Robert E. Keller

The Hand of Tharnin

Chapter 1: Promotion Day

"Less than a week to go until Promotion Day," Lannon Sunshield said apprehensively, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Lannon, Timlin, Aldreya, Vorden, and Jerret were seated in the East Tower Library. It was a badly needed rest day, as their training had been brutal recently.

As always, even in daylight hours, the Library was shadowy, the four Birlote torches failing to illuminate every corner. The Goblin statues glowered menacingly at the Squires from atop the bookshelves. One other Squire sat reading at another table-a young Birlote male named Gweskel Woodlord.

Vorden Flameblade looked up from a book he was reading. Like the other boys, Vorden, who'd turned seventeen years old recently (he was roughly a year older than the other Squires at the table) had grown taller and more muscular over his first eleven months at Dremlock Kingdom-but much about him had remained the same. His black hair was always kept neat (unlike Lannon's blond tangles), and he always conducted himself with the dignity of a young lord or prince. Yet underneath he was as wild as a wolf, always seeking something greater. He kept the other Squires on edge, leaving them constantly wondering what he would say or do next.

"I feel ready," Vorden said. "What about you, Lannon?"

Lannon shook his head. "I haven't done well at training recently. I just hope these tests aren't as tough as the Color Trials."

Aldreya Silverhawk laughed. Her striking green eyes, framed by curly silver hair, shone with amusement in the torchlight. "The Color Trials were nothing. These tests are going to be much more difficult."

"You've learned plenty of new skills, Lannon," Vorden pointed out. "Training as a Blue Squire is difficult, and you've done fine with it."

"True, but I'm fairly average," Lannon admitted. "I'm good with my sword, but nothing special. And I'm terrible with a bow."

"Just use the Eye of Divinity," said Jerret Dragonsbane. "If you did that, you could pass all the Trials with ease." Jerret grinned at Lannon, knowing Lannon would think his statement was folly. Jerret was as tall as Vorden, though less muscular. His blond hair was long and uneven in places. (Jerret cut his own hair, refusing to let any of Dremlock's barbers touch it for fear they would take too much off.)

"I can't do that," said Lannon. "It would be cheating. The Knights wouldn't allow it. Besides…"

"Besides what?" said Jerret.

Lannon shrugged. "It just wouldn't be fair." How could he explain to Jerret the deep fear he felt over the thought of using the Eye of Divinity? He couldn't even explain it to himself. The notion of summoning his power left him feeling paralyzed. Often, as of late, he would awaken sweating and trembling from nightmares he could not remember, the sensation of cold fingers on his throat. It appeared that Tenneth Bard-the Black Knight and sworn enemy of Dremlock Kingdom-had affected him deeply in some way he'd yet to recover from. Lannon felt he should talk to Taris Warhawk about it, for the sorcerer might be able to help him overcome his fear. But Lannon hadn't seen much of him lately. Taris seemed very busy and distracted, always in a hurry to get somewhere. So Lannon had decided to wait until after Promotion Day to take any action concerning the Eye of Divinity.

It had been over a month since Lannon had stood face to face with Tenneth Bard and lived to tell of it. The Knights had done well in beating back the Goblins, ever since Lannon had given them the knowledge they needed to finally kill the Goblin Lords. It looked as if Tenneth Bard's plans had been ruined. Yet shadows of doubt lingered on, hinting that the threat was not ended.

"I'm going to win the archery contest," Timlin Woodmaster said. "I'm the best in all of Dremlock." The short, skinny lad with the thin face smiled at the others' annoyed looks. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Maybe you will win," said Vorden, "but you shouldn't be so cocky about it, Timlin. And I plan to prove you wrong."

"Did you hear the latest news?" said Jerret. "The Knights retook the North Road from the Goblins, driving them deep into the Bloodlands. They reopened the Dead Goblin Inn."

"But who will keep the road maintained for travel?" said Lannon, thinking back to the horrible conditions he'd encountered on his journey to Dremlock. "I thought the Rangers vowed never to return there?"

"The Knights will maintain it from now on," said Jerret. "At least that's what I heard. I also heard that two Knights were killed in the tunnels below the Temple here at Dremlock-Hune Goldenhammer and Ellena Whitehelm."

"Tenneth Bard's minions must still be in the tunnels," said Vorden, in a low voice. "But I wonder where the Black Knight himself is? If he's dead, then why did his body vanish so quickly?"

"That's what everyone is asking," said Aldreya. "I know that's why Taris is so distracted lately. I think he has been spending all his time trying to find Tenneth Bard. I've heard that the Knights have been exploring the tunnels-going places they've never dared venture before. I'll bet a lot of Knights are going to die down there."

"They need you, Lannon," said Jerret. "You should use the Eye of Divinity to help them find Tenneth Bard."

Lannon shuddered. "Listen, Jerret, I don't want to talk about that right now. Just forget I even have the Eye."

"Why?" said Jerret. "What's wrong with you lately? You have a great ability and it should be used."

"That's enough, Jerret," Vorden said, in a commanding tone. "Lannon doesn't want to discuss it. So drop the subject."

"Fine," said Jerret, "I won't mention it again." The Red Squire glared at the tabletop, his face set in a frown.

"I'm going to get some practice," said Vorden. "Who's with me?"

"But we're supposed to be resting," said Timlin. "We're all worn out."

"I want to be ready for Promotion Day," said Vorden. "Don't you?"

"Let's all go practice," said Aldreya. "We need it."

"Practice is boring," said Jerret. "I'm going to go take a nap."

"Lazy sod," Vorden mumbled, drawing an angry stare from Jerret.

"I think I'll stay here," said Lannon. "I'm a bit sore from training. I need to rest up. I'll see you later on."

"Are you sure?" said Vorden. "Only five days left until the Trials."

"I know," said Lannon. "But right now I just don't feel up to practicing. I'm going back to my room for a while." Lannon felt a strong desire to be alone. He needed time to think everything through. He stood up, placed his trembling hands in his pockets, and left the Library.

As Lannon stepped out into the hall, he seemed to sense cold eyes watching him. It was always the same lately-whenever he went somewhere, he could feel himself being watched. Yet the hallway appeared deserted. Sunlight streamed in through two round windows-one at each end, leaving only faint shadows here and there. He stopped and listened, but the only noise he heard came from his friends in the Library. He considered summoning the Eye of Divinity to at last find out who was stalking him (if anyone) and why, but then the fear of using his power gripped him again, banishing that idea from his mind.

Lannon made his way up to his quarters and closed the door behind him. He took off his boots and lay down on the bed. A great weariness suddenly washed over him. He'd not slept well lately-with the nightmares and all-and it was finally catching up to him. How was he supposed to prepare for Promotion Day under these circumstances?

Soon Lannon drifted off to sleep, and he immediately found himself in another nightmare. He was standing somewhere underground-possibly in the maze of mines and tunnels below Dremlock Kingdom-and before him was a pit of molten lava. A shadowy figure stood on the opposite side of the pit, his arms outstretched-holding a bulky object in one hand that Lannon couldn't identify. Writings of the Deep Shadow glowed blue on the stone walls and ceiling. The shadowy figure was apparently invoking some foul sorcery. The air in the chamber was heavy with dark tension that was growing stronger by the moment.

Lannon's vision blurred and the dream began to slip away. But in its final moments he could see something dark moving in the pit, twisting about-a thing of such power and evil that it seemed nothing could stop it. Was this what the shadowy figure had summoned? It seemed too horrible to believe, for surely no one with even a shred of sanity would want to call forth something of that nature.

Lannon realized the Eye of Divinity was probing the thing in the lava pool, but his power wasn't the same as usual. This was the Eye of Dreams, a magic that could show him things the Eye of Divinity could not. It revealed truths as they occurred, and no distance was too great for its gaze.

Then the vision faded into black mist. Yet Lannon did not awaken right away, for the Deep Shadow was in his heart. Cold fingers gripped his throat again and evil laughter echoed in his mind. Two violet, insane eyes burned in the darkness before everything went completely black.

***

Over the next few days, Lannon couldn't focus on Promotion Day at all, as his thoughts kept wandering back to his nightmare. He didn't reveal the dream to his friends, preferring to suffer alone with the gloom that filled his mind. One day, he encountered Taris Warhawk on the stairs of the East Tower, and the sorcerer gazed at him piercingly and asked if anything was wrong. Lannon just shook his head and hurried past Taris up to his chamber.

When Promotion Day finally arrived, Lannon failed all five Trials-as if he simply lacked the will to try. These tests were indeed more difficult than the Color Trials, consisting of weapon skills, resistance to sorcery, and tests involving strength, agility, balance, and knowledge. Lannon should have passed the knowledge test easily, considering his love for books and history, but his mind kept going blank. He could sense others watching him, judging him because of the power he possessed, and the pressure grew nearly unbearable.

At last it was over. Once again Vorden did the best of all the Squires. In fact, the only combat-related test he was clearly beaten at was Archery (by little Timlin, who was untouchable with the bow). Timlin, Jerret, and Aldreya did well also, and Lannon's friends all received an additional ribbon on their sashes-getting them that much closer to Knighthood. Lannon, however, did not earn a ribbon and would have to wait that much longer to become a Knight (if he ever did become one).

Lannon's misery and feelings of isolation made him want to flee back to the East Tower and hide, but instead he forced himself to do the right thing and celebrate with his friends in the Great Hall.

Lannon didn't eat much of the fine dinner that was laid out before the Squires, and he sat with his head bowed in spite of the talking and laughing going on around him. He avoided making eye contact with anyone. He wondered what they all thought of him-the bearer of the Eye of Divinity, who'd performed so miserably on Promotion Day. They couldn't see the struggles going on inside him. All they saw was a lad who was supposed to have an advantage but couldn't even pass a single one of the Trials. He was certain the Squires were whispering amongst themselves about how pathetic he was.

"You should eat something, Lannon," said Vorden, who'd already cleaned two plates. "You don't want to end up as skinny as Timlin."

"Lannon did poorly," said Aldreya. "Perhaps he doesn't feel like eating. I know I wouldn't if I had done that badly at the Trials."

Lannon sighed. He knew Aldreya meant no harm, and it was simply her way to be blunt. But the words stung nonetheless.

"I don't think Lannon wants that pointed out, Aldreya," said Jerret. "It's kind of rude."

Aldreya looked puzzled. "Why is it rude? I only speak the truth."

"That's not the point," said Jerret. "You Birlotes are all kind of rude. You think you're superior to everyone else."

"That's ridiculous," said Aldreya, her green eyes flashing in anger. "I consider everyone at this table to be my friend and my equal."

Jerret shrugged. "Sorry, but that's how I see Birlotes."

"Your view is misguided, Jerret," said Vorden. "If the Birlotes act superior, it's just the way they're taught. Most of the Birlotes here, including Aldreya, have royal blood in them and were raised accordingly. And besides, Aldreya is right. You really did quite poorly, Lannon. What happened out there? With the Eye of Divinity, you should have dominated Promotion Day."

Lannon considered simply excusing himself and returning to the East Tower, but he felt obligated to explain things to his friends. "I didn't use the Eye. I haven't been summoning it lately. Truthfully, I've been afraid."

"That doesn't make sense," said Vorden. "You were getting quite good at using it, last I knew. What could you possibly be afraid of?"

"I don't know," said Lannon. "I keep dreaming of Tenneth Bard-that he's up to something below Dremlock. But that's not really why I'm afraid. I guess I'm afraid of what the Eye might show me."

"I wish I had your power," said Timlin, his eyes shining. "I would use it all the time and probe every secret."

"There are some things," said Lannon, "that you really wouldn't want to see, Timlin. Things too dark to even imagine."

"Dark things don't bother me," said Timlin. He wrung his hands together, as if suddenly agitated. "I've seen my share-without the Eye of Divinity."

"Are you talking about those scars on your back?" said Vorden, gazing with pity at Timlin. "You must have really suffered."

"That's none of your concern, Vorden," Timlin said. "Don't bring up things from my past in public. You're just as rude as Aldreya. Anyway, I wasn't talking about that. I know what you think." He fell silent and gave no indication he was going to explain that last statement.

"Well, what do I think?" Vorden finally asked.

Timlin glowered at him. "You think I was corrupted when I was younger, because of the beatings and all. Well, you're wrong. Those lashings didn't change me and never will-unless they made me tougher, which is a good thing. I couldn't care less about a few scars or going hungry all the time. That's just life, and life is tough. You're jealous because I was far better than you today at archery."

"That's nonsense," said Vorden. "Calm down. I'm sorry for mentioning your past, but you kind of opened the door for it. Anyway, let's just put this behind us." Vorden extended his hand to Timlin. "Are we still friends?"

Timlin's face was crimson, his eyes smoldering. His tiny hands were squeezed into fists. He was trembling.

"Enough!" Vorden snapped. "Calm yourself!" In spite of Vorden's harsh tone, there was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Timlin fought with himself for an instant longer and then his anger seemed to diminish. He sighed, then nodded. "Okay, just don't talk about my past. I don't care about it, so why should you?"

"I get it," said Vorden, rolling his eyes. "You don't care about it. Well, neither do I at this point. So let's forget it."

For an instant, Timlin's lower lip quivered and he looked like he might cry. Then he hunkered down, his face sullen.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Lannon felt sympathy for Timlin, but as usual, the skinny lad's strange personality disturbed him. Timlin seemed to lack a true sense of honor or even basic concern for anyone but himself, and there was no telling what he might do if he grew angry enough. Timlin reminded Lannon of a poisonous spider lying in wait for anyone foolish enough to provoke him.

"That little incident aside," said Vorden, again rolling his eyes, "I want to steer this conversation back toward you, Lannon."

"I'd rather not," said Lannon. "I just need time to work things out."

A shadow fell upon Lannon. Startled, he turned quickly in his chair-to find Taris Warhawk. The sorcerer nodded in greeting.

"Lannon, I would like to speak to you later in private," said Taris, "when you get back to the East Tower."

Lannon's heart sped up. Taris' face and voice seemed grim. "What's it about?" he asked.

"As I said," Taris reminded him, "we shall speak in private."

"I'm done eating," said Lannon, "if you want to go now." He was anxious to hear what Taris had to say.

Taris nodded. "My duties here are finished. We shall walk together outside and talk. This business is quite pressing."

***

Lannon said goodbye to his friends and followed Taris out into a cold spring night. A bright moon shone in the sky. Taris had donned his hood and now seemed little more than a shadow moving quietly ahead of Lannon. The trail that led through the great pine forest of Knightwood was deserted. A few wolf howls echoed through the crisp air. Lannon shivered-from the cold and from nervousness-and pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself.

At last, Taris halted. He glanced about, making sure the trail was deserted. "The reason I wanted to speak with you is that I have need of your skills. In the tunnels below Dremlock, we discovered a man who claims to harbor a demon inside him. He seemed to be wandering aimlessly and surrendered to us without a fight. He wore no shirt and had a ragged, half-starved look about him. I have identified a strange aura engulfing him unlike anything I have ever encountered. Also, he seems to need fire to keep himself alive."

"What is a demon?" said Lannon, shuddering for some reason he didn't quite understand. "Some type of Goblin?"

"Demons, as we know them," said Taris, "are spirit creatures that exist in nature. They are wild spirits. Some of the ancient religions throughout our continent of Gallamerth describe demons as purely evil creatures that are almost the exact opposite of the most divine gods. But here at Dremlock we are simply referring to wild spirits that never lived as mortal creatures. They can be good, evil, or neutral-but they are natural creatures of earthly origin."

Again, Lannon shuddered. Something about this topic bothered his instincts, triggering some deep fear of the unknown.

"It appears," said Taris, pausing to gaze at Lannon in the moonlight, "that this man is possessed by a truly wicked one. The demon he supposedly carries has pledged to destroy Dremlock Kingdom. It also claims that it knows just how it can accomplish the deed. It mocks us and plays games with us."

Lannon didn't like the sound of that at all, and he wished Taris had not brought this problem to him. He glanced into the shadowy forest, chills creeping over his flesh. "Is he a member of the Blood Legion?" Lannon thought back to his encounter with the group of former Knights who were sworn to topple Dremlock.

"We don't know," said Taris. "As I said, he was clad only in ragged trousers when we found him. We assume that he is, but can't verify it. Anyway, we need you to probe him with the Eye of Divinity and unlock his secrets."

Lannon shook his head. "I'm not sure I can, Master Taris. I've had a lot of trouble summoning the Eye lately. I have some kind of…" He swallowed hard. "Some kind of fear about it."

"The use of magic always invokes fear," said Taris. "The path of sorcery is a very dangerous one. But any fear can be overcome."

Lannon sighed. "I'm not sure I can do this, that I have the strength. Is there another way to learn his secrets?

Taris' face contorted with anger. With his pointy chin and ears, the Birlote sorcerer looked particularly devilish in the moonlight. "What are you saying, lad? You wanted to be a Squire of Dremlock Kingdom, and so you are. Now you are asked to do an important task, and you surrender to your fears? We are locked in a constant battle against the Deep Shadow, my young friend, unless you've forgotten. You have a sworn duty to defend this kingdom."

Lannon knew Taris was right, but he still felt terrified at the prospect of using the Eye of Divinity. "I'll do it of course, Master Taris. I know it's my duty. I just feel smothered by this fear."

"I'll stand with you," said Taris, patting Lannon on the back. "We shall go to the Deep Forge this very night, where the demon man awaits us."

Lannon had never been to the smoldering Deep Forge, where the mighty weapons and armor for the Knights of Dremlock were crafted.

Taris cleared his throat. "There is…one other detail. The man was not just clad in trousers when we found him, in spite of what I said a moment ago. He was also wearing a metal gauntlet on his right hand. The glove seems hopelessly locked onto his flesh. It is some evil and dangerous device of Tharnin. I sensed terrible power radiating from it. My guess is that the demon is fused somehow into the gauntlet and is influencing the man from there."

Lannon's legs felt weak from dread. He wanted to sit down. "And you want me to examine the gauntlet as well?"

"Of course," said Taris. "We need to learn everything we can about this bizarre fellow and the threat he might pose to us. The fact remains that there is no one else in this kingdom who can do what you do, Lannon. Forget about Promotion Day or any of that. The Eye of Divinity is what truly matters."

"If I don't get promoted," said Lannon, "how will I ever become a Knight? I don't want to stay a Squire forever."

"You're here to serve Dremlock," said Taris, "and not to worry about promotions. They will come in their own time. For now, you must focus on your duties. There are other ways of achieving Knighthood besides the Trials."

"I'll stay focused, Master Taris."

"Good," said Taris, "but be very careful. This demon man is immensely powerful. He already killed one of the Knights-Blain Broadhammer, an irreplaceable blacksmith in the Deep Forge. Somehow he broke free of his chains and choked the powerful Grey Dwarf right in front of six Knights. Then he simply smiled and surrendered again. That gauntlet of his seems to have a mind of its own, and if a demon truly inhabits it, then in fact it does think for itself!"

"I would rather not have known that," said Lannon, wincing. He envisioned a cold steel hand gripping his throat and cutting off his breath.

"Yet you must know," said Taris, "so you are aware of the danger. And you should also know that I instinctively feel the demon man is telling the truth-that he can indeed destroy Dremlock if we don't find a way to stop him."

Lannon breathed deeply, savoring the fresh, pine-scented spring air. He gazed up at the huge trees that stood dark against the moonlight-trees that concealed Dremlock and all of its secrets. Could the ancient and legendary kingdom really fall? If Taris believed it was possible, it probably was. The sorcerer was the wisest man Lannon knew. Lannon stood there in silence for a few moments, with Taris looking on, thinking of all the beauty and wonder that was Dremlock and dreading the thought of facing the ugliness that lay below in a chamber of fire.

"Can he actually destroy Dremlock?" Lannon asked, hoping Taris had misspoken somehow (though he knew it wasn't likely).

But Taris didn't answer. He simply started off down the trail.

Chapter 2: Flame and Chaos

Though he knew Taris wasn't fooled, Lannon insisted he needed his friends with him in order to use the Eye of Divinity. But that wasn't stretching the truth to any great degree, since it was possible he would require their help at least in summoning the Eye. Lannon's confidence had eroded badly over the weeks, even as his unexplainable fears had grown more potent. His friends gave him a confidence boost-especially Vorden, who always seemed so sure of himself.

Taris reluctantly agreed to allow Vorden and Timlin-Lannon's fellow Blue Squires-to go with them to the Deep Forge. "It will put them in danger," he said, "but if you feel it is necessary, I will agree to it."

Lannon lowered his gaze. He felt cowardly for endangering his friends, but he needed their support. And he knew they would willingly-even eagerly, in Vorden's case-stand by his side.

The Deep Forge was located below the West Tower. Taris and Lannon stepped from the pine forest and back into the clearing where the huge Tower of Arms stood dark and imposing against the moonlit sky. Lannon's gaze passed up the wall of the stone keep that was circled by balconies and dotted with many windows, and once again he felt like he was being watched. The tower looked like a manmade mountain beneath the moon (though it was not as large as the North Tower that the Lord Knight of Dremlock, Cordus Landsaver, resided in). Lannon wondered how far down into earth and stone the Deep Forge lay, and if it was plagued by the same evils as other areas of the mines.

Two bearded, muscular Knights stood on either side of the twelve-foot-tall iron door. They pulled it open, and Taris and Lannon entered the Great Hall that was filled with life-sized paintings of Knights. The hall was warmed by a stone fireplace, above which hung a painting of the first, and most famous, Lord Knight of Dremlock-Kuran Darkender. The Squires were still eating at tables and celebrating Promotion Day. Taris motioned to Vorden and Timlin, and the two Squires hurried over.

"What's going on?" Vorden asked.

"Follow us to the Deep Forge," was Taris' only reply.

They passed beyond a door marked Armory Entrance and into a room full of many crates and racks holding weapons that gleamed in the torchlight. They followed a stone stairway that wound down into the earth beneath the tower and took them into a tunnel full of crates, barrels, and mining gear. Typically, the mines beneath Dremlock inspired dark feelings within Lannon, but this area seemed free of that heavy gloom.

At last, Taris told Vorden and Timlin what he'd told Lannon, and he made the Squires swear an oath of secrecy. Vorden beamed with excitement, but Timlin seemed close to losing his nerve.

"A demon?" said Vorden. "They actually exist?"

"Demons are very real," said Taris. "Sorcerers of Tharnin have enslaved them in the past and forced them to serve. The most powerful demons of all tend to dwell in the Paltos Wasteland for some unknown reason, which is a foggy, rocky valley in a stretch of mountains beyond Silverland."

Timlin hesitated, his face pale. "I'm not sure I want to go down there, Master Taris. I don't like the mines, and…and I don't think I want to confront that fellow. I just don't feel ready for it."

"I understand your fear," said Taris, "but if you're ever going to be a Knight, you need to stop letting it dictate your actions. Lannon needs you, and I must insist that you accompany us."

"Lannon doesn't need me at all," Timlin admitted. "He can summon the Eye of Divinity on his own."

"Timlin!" Vorden muttered, throwing up his hands in disbelief.

"Lannon needs you, regardless," said Taris. "It's simply a matter of having his friends with him for support."

Yet Timlin still didn't move. "I just don't want to go."

His face darkening, Taris seized Timlin's tunic sleeve. "I've had enough of you succumbing to your fears! You will either accompany us to the Deep Forge or you will be demoted to the rank of Orange. Is that understood?"

Timlin's eyes widened. "Yes, it's understood."

But Taris' piercing gaze lingered on him. "I don't wish to be so strict with you, Timlin, but Dremlock is no place for cowards. Fear or not, you must learn to act. Talent is not enough. Your attitude could put lives at risk."

Timlin swallowed, and nodded. His eyes narrowed. "I said I understand. So let go of my tunic."

"I'll let you go when I feel the need," Taris said coldly.

"Better watch yourself," Timlin mumbled.

Vorden and Lannon exchanged anxious glances, thinking that Timlin had just gone way too far and was about to lose his chance at Knighthood. This was the first time they had ever heard a Squire dare to threaten a Knight-and not just any Knight, but a member of the High Council who was outranked only by the Lord Knight himself. And this was Taris Warhawk-a sorcerer of unmatched skill and the last person at Dremlock one would want to threaten.

But Taris only laughed. "You think you can intimidate me, little man? You have no clue what trials I have gone through. You can't deal with your own fears, so you try to make others fear you. You have a dark side, certainly, and you feel perfectly justified in taking revenge on anyone who provokes you. But that's not the attitude of a Knight, either. You need to work on your character."

Timlin lowered his gaze.

Taris released him. "Build your character, or your flaws will cause you, and those around you, to suffer." With that, the Tower Master started off again.

Timlin glared at him from behind, but followed. Vorden sighed and wiped sweat from his brow, giving Lannon a relieved glance.

"That goes for you as well, Lannon," Taris said. "Like Timlin, you must learn to overcome your fear. I have seen far too many Squires and Knights fail because the terror grew to consume them." He paused and turned, his eyes shining like green fire in the torchlight. "The Deep Shadow is all about fear, my young friends. It will grow in your hearts and try to break your will. You must resist it."

"I'm not afraid," said Vorden, raising his chin defiantly.

"I don't doubt your words," said Taris. "But you suffer from the opposite problem as Lannon and Timlin. You are arrogantly brave, and that could be your downfall. You Squires are a bit older and more seasoned now. It's time you started to confront your character flaws."

"I wish I was perfect like you, Taris," Timlin said, a hint of a sneer on his lips. "Maybe if I keep trying, I'll get there."

"How long have you been at Dremlock, Timlin?" said Taris.

"Almost a year," said Timlin. "Why?"

"Then you should know by now," said the sorcerer, "to always address me as Master Taris-even when you're angry at me. You will show respect!"

"Sorry, Master Taris," Timlin mumbled.

"And I'm far from perfect," said Taris. "I've made many mistakes on the path to Knighthood, some that I deeply regret. What you view as perfection is simply the result of a lot of harsh lessons-like a blade that a blacksmith has had to hammer away at to smooth out the flaws. I wouldn't wish the troubles I have endured upon anyone."

"I thought we were on an important mission," said Timlin. "So why are we standing in this tunnel discussing character issues?"

Taris turned, glowering. "You're developing quite a bold tongue, Timlin. I'm not the only one who has noticed that lately. I can be very forgiving, but rest assured that there are plenty of Knights who have no tolerance for such behavior from Squires. And my patience is almost gone."

"He's right, Timlin," said Vorden. "You're going way too far lately. You're sure to get tossed out of Dremlock!"

Timlin seemed to be fighting his usual internal battle for control, his eyes smoldering. Finally he bowed his head. "I guess I'll watch what I say from now on, Master Taris. I apologize."

"We will discuss this later," said Taris.

Lannon gazed at Timlin with pity. Clearly, Timlin was deeply troubled, and Lannon couldn't begin to fathom what was going on in his mind. Timlin seemed to dwell in some tiny, dark world that no one else could peer into.

They passed through caverns stacked with crates and lined with racks of weapons and armor. A series of stone steps then took them deep into the earth and down into more stone tunnels.

The Deep Forge was a single large, hot cavern filled with the smells of oil, leather, sweat, and smoldering iron. Olrogs-the Grey Dwarves-hammered at weapons and armor. When they weren't crafting new battle gear, they were busy repairing damaged gear. They worked vigorously amongst the furnaces and water-filled barrels, their powerful bodies seemingly tireless.

The ringing of hammers against metal vibrated in Lannon's ears, and the heat quickly made him sweat. He leaned against a weapon rack to steady himself, but Taris motioned him impatiently along.

Cordus Landsaver, the Lord Knight of Dremlock, and Furlus Goblincrusher, the West Tower Master, were gathered near a furnace, where a curly-haired man dressed only in ragged trousers was chained to the side of it. The furnace was blazing, and the heat should have severely burned him, but he seemed relaxed and was actually smiling. On one of his hands, a bulky metal gauntlet gleamed in the torchlight, the fingers twitching.

Cordus nodded to Taris, then frowned. "Why are the other Squires here?"

"Lannon needs them," said Taris, shrugging.

Lannon shrank back. The fellow in chains was gazing at him with insane glee, while his bizarre metal glove wiggled its fingers. Lannon glanced at Vorden and saw that his face was pale. Timlin's body trembled, but he held his ground.

"You've brought the little fool," the chained man said. He threw back his head and laughed, then said, "Bring him closer."

"Stay where you are, Lannon," Cordus commanded. The Lord Knight's dark, tangled hair and beard seemed particularly unkempt. His face looked tired. He wore his shining breastplate which was adorned with an image of the three great towers that made up Dremlock Kingdom, and his sword was drawn. "I'm sure Taris explained to you that this man is possessed and very dangerous."

"The fire actually gives him strength," said Furlus. "Just so you lads know, we didn't chain him there to torture him. He seemed to be dying and kept pleading with us to put him near flame." The strongest Knight in Dremlock held his heavy battle axe in one hand, and his eyes never left the chained man. Like Cordus, he wore his armor in spite of the heat. His eyes-set beneath drooping brows-smoldered like the flames of the furnace.

"I cannot understand how he resists the heat," Cordus said. "Such power seems impossible. How can one withstand fire for hours at a time?"

Lannon struggled to steady his nerves. "What…what should I do?"

"Use the Eye of Divinity, of course," said Taris, "I'll see to it that no harm befalls you." He placed his hand on Lannon's shoulder.

"Yes, use your Eye," said the chained man. "I want you to use it on me. My name is Vellera, by the way. And you're Lannon-with the dramatic Knightly last name of Sunshield. Actually, it's kind of weak. Couldn't you have chosen Skullsplitter or Bonebreaker or something?"

"So why have you come to Dremlock?" Lannon asked.

Vellera winked at Lannon. "Death and destruction."

"We've already questioned him," said Furlus, waving his hand impatiently. "He won't tell us his true purpose."

"I won't tell you, Dwarf," Vellera said. "Your ugly beard and fat belly offends me. But I find the boy to be more of what I consider pleasant company." He focused his gaze on Lannon. "I came here to destroy Dremlock-and I did reveal that. But I have another purpose as well. My purpose is to destroy you, Lannon. That's why I want you to use the Eye of Divinity on me, so I can slay you."

"Maybe you're the one who will be slain!" snarled Vorden, stepping forward and raising his sword. "How dare you threaten my friend?"

"Vorden!" Cordus growled, shoving him back. "You shall remain silent and know your place, Squire. This is for Lannon to deal with."

"I'm sorry, Master Cordus," said Vorden.

Lannon's legs weakened beneath him. Somehow, he knew Vellera wasn't lying-that he did intend to kill Lannon. He glanced helplessly at Taris.

Taris squeezed Lannon's shoulder reassuringly. "Don't believe his lies, Lannon. This Vellera is a servant of the Deep Shadow. He is no doubt terrified that you will learn his secrets, and he is trying to frighten you into giving up. You think Vellera is speaking the truth about his intentions, but bear in mind that the Deep Shadow is working through him to convince you that his words are true."

"I understand," said Lannon. He did indeed understand, but that knowledge failed to calm his terror. "So why do you want to kill me?"

"The power you possess, of course," said Vellera. "You see too much. Therefore, you must die. Once you are slain, Dremlock will fall. The demon that rules over me grants me unlimited power, as you will soon learn. The Knights of Dremlock are no match for me. I will slay them all. And then Tharnin will deal with your so-called god, that pathetic creature you call the Divine Essence."

Lannon focused on holding his ground, on acting like a Knight and not a coward. It took all of his willpower, but he managed to fight off his fears and convince himself he would use the Eye of Divinity.

"You Knights have brought terrible suffering to my realm," said Vellera, his face contorting in anger. "How many tears have been wept over the actions of Dremlock? This kingdom, with its perverse god and murderous legion of Knights, will soon pay for the centuries of bloodshed."

"You speak of the killing of lowly Goblins," said Furlus. "Mindless monsters that refuse to let humans live in peace. We have no choice but to slay them."

"You have a choice!" Vellera shouted. "You could choose to let this world be absorbed by the realm of Tharnin, and then all would be peaceful. Instead you make war on us-endless, terrible war."

The metal gauntlet clenched into a fist. Two blue stones embedded in it glowed with a cold light. "But the war is coming to an end. Know this-I have become the Hand of Tharnin. Alone, I will crush this kingdom and leave nothing but bones and rubble."

"I've heard enough of this vile ranting!" snarled Cordus. "Lannon, summon the Eye and lay bare his secrets."

Lannon struggled hard to call forth his power, and at last he felt his consciousness divide in two. The Eye of Divinity surged forth and probed Vellera, but all Lannon could see was writhing darkness. He hesitated, unsure of what to do.

"Tell us what you see!" Taris said, clutching his shoulder.

"Nothing," said Lannon, shaking his head. "Just shadows."

"You must try harder," said Taris. "Focus!"

Lannon probed deep into the man, and the shroud of darkness fell away to reveal raging flames. Vellera was burning within, a fiery presence that emanated deep hatred toward Lannon. It was like a wall of flames engulfing something too terrible to imagine.

As Lannon watched helplessly, unable to move, the metal gauntlet burst through the wall of fire and closed around Lannon's throat. The gauntlet possessed a horrific strength that should have crushed Lannon's throat with ease, but he instinctively used the Eye of Divinity to shield himself.

For a moment, Lannon struggled fiercely to keep the metal hand from strangling him, but he was quickly losing ground. He could feel the fingers tightening down, closing off his windpipe.

Then a flash of light erupted and Lannon's mind was plunged into a darkness so heavy he wasn't sure he would ever awaken.

Chapter 3: Jace the Wanderer

When Lannon awoke, he was in the Hall of Healing. He tried to sit up, but one of the healers-a lean man with wavy red hair-hurried over and urged him to stay lying down. The White Knight gazed at Lannon with concern. "You need more rest, Squire," he said, "or your legs will surely buckle beneath you. Your strength has not yet returned."

"What happened to me?" asked Lannon. He had no concept of time. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"For about a week," said the White Knight.

Lannon was stunned by the news. "An entire week, asleep?"

"Well, not asleep," said the healer, "in the sense you're familiar with. You were able to eat and drink, but your mind was in a state of darkness. You were nearly killed by dark sorcery. If it hadn't been for Taris Warhawk, you surely would have died. Sadly, Taris suffered severe burns, but he is expected to recover."

Lannon groaned. "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Yes," said the White Knight, sighing. "Furlus Goblincrusher suffered a terrible injury to his leg. He may never walk again, though it depends on his strength of will. Both Taris and Furlus are in a special area of the Hall of Healing reserved for High Council members, so you won't be able to see them without being summoned. But I assure you they are recovering."

Lannon could hardly believe what he'd just heard. Both Tower Masters-two extremely powerful Knights-had been struck down. "What of the demon man?" he asked. "The one who attacked me?"

The White Knight bowed his head. "Perhaps you should rest for now."

Lannon seized his robe. "You must tell me!"

"He escaped from the Deep Forge," said the White Knight. "The chamber filled with smoke, and when the smoke cleared, there was no trace of the man. A massive search is taking place throughout Dremlock."

"I can't believe this," Lannon whispered, the will drained from him. Suddenly, Dremlock seemed to have fallen under a shadow of despair. The Hall of Healing was supposed to be bright and pleasant, with its hanging plants, marble bricks, and beautiful fountains and pools. But Lannon's mind was choked in darkness and all he could see was ugliness.

"Perhaps a bath would improve your mood," said the healer, "and help you relax. Would you like to give it a try?"

With the help of the healer, Lannon was able to leave the bed, bathe, and put on fresh clothes. His legs were unsteady, so he returned to bed afterwards. He felt terribly restless, wanting to do anything but lay there.

"You must rest until after dinner," said the healer, "and then you can walk around some. I suspect that by tomorrow morning you should be ready to return to your quarters-though you must refrain from training for a few days."

Lannon's teacher, Garrin Daggerblood, entered the chamber and smiled down at Lannon. It was a forced smile, however. Garrin dismissed the White Knight with a wave. "And how are you feeling, my young friend?"

Garrin had been cold to Lannon lately-ever since Lannon and his friends had broken the Sacred Laws of Dremlock and were nearly expelled from the Kingdom. Garrin had also recently been promoted to the rank of Lord of the Blue Knights, when Carn Pureheart had retired unexpectedly. However, he had not yet been voted onto the High Council, and rumors spoke of him being highly disgruntled over that fact.

"Not so good," said Lannon, "all things considered."

Garrin nodded, the smile vanishing. "Quite a terrible turn of events. One thing is certain-the man who injured the Tower Masters was an amazingly powerful foe. Either that, or he knew well their weaknesses."

Garrin's gaze burned into Lannon, and Lannon looked away. Lannon could feel suspicion emanating from the Blue Knight-and perhaps blame as well. It was painfully obvious that Garrin Daggerblood just didn't like Lannon and already considered Lannon a lost cause.

"The High Council has voted to call in a failed Knight to save us all," said Garrin. "A failed Knight, of all things. And one we thought was dead. Well, it turns out he not only isn't dead, but he's an expert on magical relics-so it is said. Indeed, it seems he has found a way to extend his life by use of forbidden sorcery."

"What failed Knight are you talking about?" said Lannon.

Garrin held up two books for Lannon to see. They were The Truth about Goblins and Tales of Kuran Darkender by Jace Lancelord, ancient books that Lannon's father had bought for him. "Jace Lancelord," said Garrin, shaking his head in disgust. "A failed, expelled Knight and one who employs forbidden sorcery. He will do what you could not."

Lannon snatched the books from Garrin's hand. "Did you get those from my room, Master Garrin?"

Garrin shrugged, his lip curling into a sneer. "So what if I did? I am a highly ranked Knight. I have the right to take what I want. You, as a Squire, have no rights. Do you take issue with my actions?"

Lannon shook his head. "No, Master Garrin."

Garrin leaned forward until his bearded face was close to Lannon's. "So, as I said, Jace Lancelord is coming to save Dremlock-even though I voiced strong opposition to it. What do you think of that? The author of your favorite books, still alive when he should be dead-now playing the role of Dremlock's savior."

Lannon wasn't sure what to think. Though he loved the books Jace Lancelord had written, he had no idea what kind of man he was. And Lannon wasn't in the frame of mind to get excited over much of anything.

"This sort of thing is not uncommon," said Garrin. "Outsiders being called upon to serve Dremlock-even lowly Rangers now and then." He grimaced in disgust. "It happens all the time, sadly. But what a coincidence that this Jace Lancelord happens to be your favorite author. Don't you think?"

Lannon shrugged, completely baffled. "What are you trying to suggest, Master Garrin? It's mere coincidence. I don't know anything about the man. My father gave me those books when I was a child, and that's all there is to it. I had no other books. So I guess that's why he's my favorite author. And haven't other Knights written books? I see a lot of authors in the Library with Knightly last names."

"Perhaps," said Garrin. "But here you are, with those books-and then suddenly Jace Lancelord turns up alive and well. Oh, and he's coming to Dremlock to save us. Quite an amazing coincidence."

"Not really," said Lannon, deeply puzzled.

"Yes, really," said Garrin.

Lannon sighed and decided to keep quiet. Garrin's behavior was nothing new. Garrin had been growing ever more suspicious of Lannon, Vorden, and Timlin over the weeks, and sometimes his hinted accusations were so bizarre it was difficult to figure out what he was trying to say. He wished Garrin would go away.

"How will this Jace fellow help Dremlock?" asked Lannon, trying to steer the conversation toward something rational.

"As I said," Garrin explained, "Jace Lancelord is an expert on magical weapons and relics. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that nearly killed you. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that burned half of Taris' handsome Birlote face and crushed Furlus' fat Dwarven leg. Am I making sense here?"

Barely, Lannon thought, wondering if Garrin was simply going insane. Garrin's paranoia seemed to be growing worse every time Lannon saw him.

"Oh, and you'll be working with old Jace on the mystery," said Garrin, with a chuckle. "The bearer of the Eye of Divinity and his favorite author, working hard to save Dremlock. I'm guessing you're excited at the prospect."

On the contrary, Lannon wasn't looking forward to it at all. He wanted to retreat to his room and hide. He dreaded the thought of encountering the demon man again, especially without Taris to protect him.

"Just know this, boy," said Garrin, his eyes narrowing and shining with malice. He tapped his forehead, "I'm watching your every move."

Lannon gave a half nod, unsure of how to react.

Garrin straightened his back and adjusted his cloak. "All training shall be postponed until the issue with the demon man is settled. And that goes for Vorden and Timlin as well, since I'm sure they will be assisting you. If you have any questions for me, you know where to find me-though I suspect your training as a Blue Squire will not be nearly as important as the Eye of Divinity in this matter. Now, if there is nothing else you want to ask me, Furlus Goblincrusher has requested that you visit him in his room. Are you able to stand?"

Lannon gave it a try, and his legs sagged beneath him. Grunting, Garrin helped Lannon stand up straight.

"You'll find your legs soon enough," said Garrin. "I wish I could say the same for old Furlus. His walking days may be finished."

***

After a few steps, Lannon found his balance, and soon he stood by Furlus' bedside. Garrin excused himself, leaving the two of them alone. Furlus' left leg was heavily bandaged and his forehead dripped sweat. His face was tense with obvious pain that Lannon couldn't imagine.

Furlus seized Lannon's arm. "How are you, lad?"

"I'm fine," said Lannon, his gaze straying again to Furlus' injured leg. Furlus had always seemed invincible, a Dwarven wall of muscle and power that nothing could breech. Now he looked old and helpless, his great bulk something to only weigh him down. Lannon hated what he saw and wished he could help.

"I've seen better days myself," said Furlus. "And so has old Taris. Poor fellow had half of his face burned into ruin."

Lannon swallowed hard and could think of nothing to say.

"I called you in here to warn you," said Furlus. "I fear that Dremlock is…" His eyes settled shut and then popped open. "I fear that Dremlock is doomed. No one can be trusted anymore, not even your closest friends."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled, his heart full of pity for the Tower Master. "Just try to rest and heal up."

"No one should waste time worrying about me," Furlus grunted, looking annoyed. "I'm talking about you, Lannon! You may be Dremlock's only hope. Only the Eye of Divinity can see through the wall of shadows that conceals the plans of our enemies. Cordus and Taris didn't want to burden you with the truth. But it's time for you to understand just how important you are. The Knights of Dremlock are running out of options and resources. So we…we…" His eyes slipped shut again beneath his drooping brows.

"Rest up," Lannon whispered, and he started to turn away.

But Furlus' hand again tightened around Lannon's arm, and the Tower Master opened his eyes. "The medicine has made me tired, but I'm not finished yet. I want to say that I no longer think the Knights can protect you-not when two Tower Masters are crushed with ease. You nearly were killed down there in the Deep Forge. It took everything Taris had to save you."

"Then what can I do?" said Lannon, panic rising within him.

"You must learn to think like a Knight," said Furlus. "You've got to thicken your skin a bit and take the battle to your foes."

"I don't understand what you mean," said Lannon.

"Indeed," said Furlus, "and therein lies the problem. "You're thinking in defensive terms, but a Knight must sometimes go on the attack. Hunt down your foes-the foes of Dremlock-and destroy them before they destroy you."

Lannon shuddered at the thought of hunting down the demon man, or Tenneth Bard (if the Black Knight still lived). "Where do I even begin, Furlus? I'm still just a Squire who has to obey the rules."

"I don't know where you begin," said Furlus, shaking his head "and now that I'm bedridden I cannot help you. I'm certain I will heal from this, but it will take awhile. Regardless, you have to decide for yourself. But I feel very strongly about one thing-if you simply try to hide from your enemies, eventually they will find you and kill you. You must go to them and make them hide from you. And even then, hope may be slim at best."

Lannon sighed. "I'll do what I can, Master Furlus."

"And one more thing," said Furlus. "Don't…" His eyes settled closed. "Don't worry about anything but…" He broke into snores.

Lannon turned away, put his face in his hands, and groaned. Everything was falling apart, and his life was in grave danger. Lannon had never felt as terrified, alone, and as miserable in his entire life as he did now. His future seemed lost in darkness, his dream of being a great Knight in a shining kingdom soured into unrecognizable swill.

"Why did I ever come here?" Lannon said aloud.

"Let me guess," came a cheerful reply. "The rice pudding?"

"What?" Lannon lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall man-nearly seven feet in height-dressed in an extravagant, purple cloak with gold trim. He was clean shaven, with a smooth, youthful face and a curly black hair. His grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he puffed at a pipe.

"What?" Lannon said again.

"The rice pudding," said the stranger. "You asked why you came here, and that was my answer. Who doesn't love the rice pudding at Dremlock?"

Lannon was at a loss for words.

The stranger extended his hand. "Jace Lancelord."

Lannon shook it. "Ah, the one who wrote the books." For some reason Lannon couldn't explain, he felt instantly at ease.

"As you might know," said Jace, "I have been hired to solve the riddle of the gauntlet that nearly took your life. And you're going to help me. However, the Knights don't trust me, so two of them will be following us everywhere." He rolled his eyes. "They're outside the room right now. Charming fellows."

"Where should we begin?" Lannon asked.

"I'll actually do most of the riddle solving on my own," said Jace. "I doubt I'll require much help from you. I already suspect we're dealing with a threat that Dremlock is ill-prepared for. In fact, as one who has studied the history of this kingdom and its war with the Deep Shadow extensively, I think this could be one of the greatest threats Dremlock has ever faced. Solving the riddle of the gauntlet and the demon man is one task-but there is a larger puzzle here. I think we'll need to consult with the wisest of the wise to know how we should proceed."

"Taris Warhawk?" said Lannon.

Jace smiled. "Yes, I have heard of Taris' legendary wisdom, but that's not who I had in mind." He puffed at his pipe.

Lannon waited, but Jace said nothing. Finally he asked, "Well, who are you talking about?"

"Tell me a bit about yourself," said Jace.

Lannon was annoyed that Jace had changed the subject, but he did as the sorcerer wished-revealing much of what had happened since he'd come to Dremlock. He felt totally at ease revealing his secrets, though he wasn't sure why. Jace listened quietly, giving only an occasional nod.

Jace looked deep in thought. "Tenneth Bard, huh? I suppose it's possible he could still be alive, but that would make him far older even than myself-and I've walked this land for nearly two-hundred years, which is an amazing feat when you consider that death lurks all around us. For Tenneth Bard to have lived that long, he must be quite powerful-far beyond anything I can imagine."

Lannon shuddered, thinking of the violet, insane eyes burning in the darkness amidst a mass of shifting shadows. Some voice whispered from deep within him that if Lannon lived long enough, he would have to face Tenneth Bard yet again. It was a destiny that only death would allow him to escape. Yet the threat of the demon man seemed even more immediate and terrifying. Lannon didn't feel strong enough or well-trained enough to deal with such monstrous foes.

"There is a lot going on here at Dremlock lately," said Jace, shaking his head in amazement. "It wasn't like this way back when I was a young Knight. I've just met you, but I already fear for your future, Lannon. It's a shame that a lad like you should bear such heavy burdens. You're just a young, frightened Squire, yet Dremlock is content to shove you into danger because of the power you possess."

Lannon nodded. The two stood facing each other, and the silence grew awkward between them. Jace sighed and scratched his head.

"So what should we do now?" said Lannon.

"I don't know," said Jace. "What to do…what to do…?" He mumbled something under his breath.

Lannon fidgeted, wondering if Jace was going to make up his mind. He seemed like he had no plan.

"Have you been doing some studying on me?" Jace asked, nodding to the two books Lannon held. "You won't find much in those. I wrote them a long time ago and a lot about me has changed since then."

"Gifts from my father," Lannon explained.

"Your father must be a wise man," said Jace, winking.

Again, an awkward silence followed. Jace stood staring off into space, as if deep in contemplation, pipe smoke curing around his head. Lannon fidgeted restlessly, wanting to do anything besides stand there wasting time.

Suddenly, Jace seized Lannon's tunic in one huge hand and pushed him against the wall. "Quiet and listen," he whispered, his eyes gleaming down at the boy. "We should consult with the Divine Essence."

"What?" Lannon gasped, wondering if Jace was joking or insane. The giant sorcerer seemed suddenly menacing to Lannon. "That nearly got me thrown out of the kingdom the last time I tried it, and a Squire died down there. No one but the Lord Knight is allowed to speak to the Divine Essence!"

Jace shrugged. "Being a Knight isn't everything. In fact, I'm rather glad I'm done with the whole affair. Too rigid, with those Sacred Laws and all. I value my freedom, and so should you. Anyway, we have to break a few rules if we want to get anywhere."

Two Blue Knights stepped into the room, hands on sword hilts. They gazed at Jace with suspicion. "Is there trouble here?" one of them asked Lannon. "Speak truthfully, Squire!"

Jace released Lannon and backed away, smiling. "The boy is fine. We were just having a heated discussion. Agreed, Lannon?"

Lannon hesitated, then nodded. "Everything is okay."

The Blue Knights glanced at each other. They were lean men with sullen eyes. One of them was a Birlote. Lannon had seen them many times in the East Tower, but had never spoken to them. "Why did the sorcerer have his hands on you?" one of them asked.

"As I said, it was a heated conversation," Jace replied. "Right, Lannon?"

Lannon gave a slight nod. "He wasn't attacking me."

The Blue Knights continued to stand there watching them.

"I need to get settled in," said Jace. He learned toward Lannon and said quietly, "Tomorrow we shall act. Be prepared."

With that, Jace bowed to the Blue Knights and strode from the room. Lannon stared after him in disbelief. He wondered if the High Council members of Dremlock knew what kind of man they had hired, for Jace seemed to have lost his wits at some point in his excessively long life. It was their first brief meeting, and Jace was already suggesting the unthinkable.

Chapter 4: Altar of Blood

The next day, Lannon couldn't find Jace. He wandered around the kingdom asking about him, while two Blue Knights followed along. They were content to trail after him everywhere in silence. In fact, they didn't say a word to him the entire day. Lannon was grateful he was being guarded, but it also made him feel odd and drew many stares. But Lannon was determined to try to talk Jace out of his plan to visit the Divine Essence. However, no one seemed to know where Jace could be found. It was as if the former Knight had simply vanished from Dremlock.

Lannon searched all day long until the evening shadows grew thick, walking from tower to tower, and then finally he gave up and returned to his room, with the two Knights standing guard outside of his door. It had been a slow, boring day. Lannon sat on the bed and sighed. He missed his routine, his training, and he felt detached from everyone in the kingdom. He wondered if he would ever be allowed to go back to his lessons. He was caught somewhere in between being a Squire and a Knight. He didn’t have the experience or status to command respect, but his skills were so valuable to the kingdom he couldn’t function as a true Squire either.

Lannon hoped that wherever Jace was lurking, he'd gathered some information about the demon man's gauntlet. Vellera had tried to kill Lannon once already, so Lannon assumed he would try again at some point-and Lannon doubted the pair of Blue Knight guards could stop him. He felt the only thing that could protect him was the Eye of Divinity (though the fact that it had failed him during the last encounter with Vellera did nothing to shore up his confidence).

He noticed a folded piece of paper on the bed next to him. He hesitated, dreading the words it might contain. Then he read it.

Lannon,

When you hear me talking loudly outside your door, put some clothes under your quilt and make it look like you’re sleeping. Then, leave your room (you will find that I have distracted the guards and led them away) and meet me on the trail, in the woods, that leads to the Temple. When the guards return to check on you, they will think you’re asleep under the covers. Good plan, don’t you agree? Of course you agree! Now listen for my voice.

Jace the Wanderer

Lannon groaned. It was hardly a good plan. Would the Knights really be stupid enough to think a pile of clothes under a quilt was a person? Lannon wasn’t sure about this Jace fellow at all. Aside from being a good writer, Jace seemed to have few respectable qualities. He'd been thrown out of Dremlock, and although cheerful in personality, he was a bit odd-perhaps even insane. But Lannon had not forgotten Furlus' words-that he should take the fight to his foes if he hoped to survive. Hiding out in his room would not save him. He needed to take action.

Moments later, Lannon heard loud conversation outside his door. Reluctantly, he stuffed clothes under the quilt. Vorden and Timlin-the only Squires who shared a room with him-were asleep, but Lannon accidentally knocked a book off a stand while he was arranging the bed and woke Vorden up.

"What are you doing?" said Vorden, yawning.

Lannon motioned for him to be quiet, and Vorden gave him a knowing look. "Good luck with whatever you're planning," Vorden whispered. "Need any help?"

"Not this time," Lannon whispered back. He would have welcomed the company, but he didn't want any of his friends to get in trouble.

Lannon entered the hallway. As Jace had predicated, the guards were nowhere in sight. Lannon hurried downstairs and left the keep. The East Tower usually appeared unguarded, but Lannon knew that hidden spies were watching. However, he was not restricted to the tower, so he wasn't breaking any rules. At least not yet.

The night was very dark, aside from a scattering of stars in the heavens. Lannon had no light source, and when he entered the forest of Knightwood, he was moving along almost blindly. He knew he shouldn't be stumbling along in darkness when he possessed the Eye of Divinity, but the fear of using it gnawed at him and so he left his power buried. He was also terrified that the demon man might be lurking in the woods, waiting to ambush him.

Lannon had left the relative safety of the East Tower and exposed himself to attack because he knew he needed to do anything but hide in his room and wait to be assassinated. Yet he still felt like a huge fool.

As usual, wolves howled in the woods. A shadow momentarily blocked out the stars above-some large winged creature soaring above the forest. Knightwood held a powerful, ancient feel that was both captivating and fear inspiring. It seemed that anything could happen in that forest. The pines were enormous, with trunks as wide as cabins, their huge, knotted roots making the trail uneven.

In spite of his fur cloak, Lannon shivered in the chill spring air. He tripped over a root and skinned his knee, and in his anger and frustration, he nearly summoned the Eye of Divinity. But then he noticed torchlight drawing closer from the way he'd just come. He hoped it wasn't the guards.

It was Jace. "Ah, there you are," said Jace. The tall sorcerer was breathing hard. "I told you I would distract the guards. And I've managed to catch up to you as well. Not bad for an old man, wouldn't you say?"

Lannon shrugged. Jace didn't look like an old man. "I'm just thinking this plan isn't wise, considering what happened last time I tried this."

Jace waved dismissively. "I know the story. The Divine Essence gave you knowledge, so the venture was actually a shining success. And we need knowledge now-so very desperately, my friend. I believe if we sneak down there, the Divine Essence will speak to you again and tell us how to proceed. I think it would love to converse with you. It's silly that you cannot visit Dremlock's god. This kingdom secures its own doom with its foolish laws. But we will ignore those laws tonight and good things will come of it."

"But it's forbidden," said Lannon. "The Divine Essence created the Sacred Laws, and I'm sure it had a good reason for doing so. And I could face being thrown out of the kingdom. And you could end up in a dungeon."

Jace laughed. "Nonsense, lad. Do you think the Knights would expel someone who possesses the Eye of Divinity? Were you thrown out last time? Of course not. As for me being put in a dungeon, it wouldn't be the first time. I'm prepared to face the consequences."

Lannon hesitated. "It just seems like a wretched idea."

"You're afraid," said Jace. "I can see it in your eyes. Well, you need to swallow your fears and act like a Knight. We've been charged with solving the mystery of the demon man and his gauntlet, and we'll do what we must to accomplish our task. I'm not getting paid to fail."

"I can see why you were expelled from the Order," said Lannon. "You're kind of reckless." He knew his words would probably anger Jace, but he didn't care. Jace's plan seemed like pure folly.

Jace's eyes held a strange gleam in the torchlight. He was a towering, shadowy figure who made Lannon feel small and weak. "So you've got me figured out, lad? That's amazing, because I'm not sure I have myself figured out. Not in the least. I've lived a very long time. You have no idea what scars and knowledge lie beneath this purple cloak-the things I have seen and endured."

Lannon shuddered, suddenly gripped by fear. "I probably don't want to know. I prefer to think of you as a writer."

Jace nodded. "I am a former writer. And a former Knight. And, last but not least, a former fool who still retains some of my old flaws. Does that make sense to you? Former fool, but still a fool?"

Lannon shook his head. He was growing more certain by the moment that Jace was crazy-or worse, possessed by the Deep Shadow.

"Rest assured you will find trouble with me," said Jace. "I am the essence of trouble, and Tharnin trembles in terror at the mere mention of my name. Why? Because I'm always digging my fingers into something. Yes, I am a very dangerous man. You might find your doom under my guidance. On the other hand, you might find your doom quite easily on your own. If you don't take action, young fellow, you will be assassinated. Are you prepared to die?"

Lannon shook his head. He wasn't prepared to die-not in the least. He felt he was far too young to die. "I want to live."

"Of course you do," said Jace. "Who doesn't? The only person who wants to die is a fool who can't wait to return to that which he was granted an opportunity to leave in the first place. You're a wise lad and not about to waste your opportunity at life. Now prove me right and we shall do what we must."

Lannon knew that on some level, Jace was right. Lannon needed to take drastic action for the sake of his survival. Yet he continued to hesitate.

Jace placed his hand on Lannon's shoulder. "I've been charged with looking after you while he work on solving the mystery. The Knights know of my reputation and I have their trust. Well, some of them trust me, and a few don't. Regardless, I will take full responsibility for this venture, should we be caught."

"But what if someone saw me leaving the East Tower?" said Lannon. "There are hidden spies in there. In the absence of Taris, they report to my trainer and Lord of the Blue Knights, Garrin Daggerblood, and he doesn't like me at all. If he knows I fooled the guards, I'm probably already in serious trouble. I'm certain the spies must have told him by now!"

"I doubt Garrin knows," said Jace, "or the Knights would be out searching for you. Jace motioned toward the abandoned trail. "Do you hear or see any signs of pursuit? Obviously, you managed to slip out unnoticed."

Lannon listened, and hearing nothing but occasional animal noises, he had to agree with Jace. If Garrin knew he'd duped the guards, surely the Knights would be closing in on him.

"Furlus and Taris are wounded," said Jace. "Your famed Tower Masters-struck down. Your life is in grave danger, should the so-called demon man choose to go after you, which he probably will. The Knights can't stop him. Soon they will order a Divine Shield placed around you-a group of Knights sworn to defend your life, who will guard you night and day. They are probably choosing the members of this Divine Shield even as we speak. Soon you will lose your freedom and perhaps lose your chance at finding a way to survive."

Jace's words seemed to reach deep into Lannon's soul, demanding he obey or pay a grim price. "Okay, I'll do it," Lannon said.

But Jace had already started along the trail. Lannon hurried after him, stumbling over a root. Lannon heard a strange, fluttering noise and whirled around-to glimpse a dark shape move swiftly across the trail and into the woods. He'd caught only a glimpse of it, but it had seemed almost man-shaped. He stood trembling for a moment, chilled to the bone and wondering what he'd seen.

"Did you see something?" Jace asked casually. "The woods are full of animals. It's nothing to be concerned about."

Still, Lannon hesitated, watching the shadows of the woods.

"Are you coming?" Jace asked, sounding annoyed.

Finally, Lannon turned and followed. Yet his back felt terribly exposed, and he kept glancing behind him.

Soon they reached the huge clearing where the Sacred Temple stood, with the North Tower rising up in the distance behind it. The sound of running water from the fountains that adorned the Temple grounds was loud in the still night air. The huge bronze statue of Kuran Darkender (the greatest Knight and foe of Tharnin who had ever lived) that stood atop the temple was a shadowy bulk beneath the stars.

The Temple door was locked, and Jace motioned to Lannon. Lannon hesitated, not wanting to summon the Eye of Divinity.

Jace frowned. "Aren't you a Blue Squire? Are you telling me you don't know how to pick a lock?"

"Huh?" said Lannon. "Oh, of course." His face red with embarrassment, he took out his tools and went to work on the lock. It was a difficult task and took some time, but at last he managed to get it open.

They crept into the Temple. The smell of incense hung thick in the air, a leftover scent from daytime gatherings. Lannon marveled, as he always did, at the sacred feel of the atmosphere in the Temple. He always felt like he was under the intense scrutiny of some higher power when inside there-as if the Divine Essence itself were watching his every move and judging him. Deep feelings of guilt gnawed at him, and a voice whispered in his mind that he was violating the Sacred Laws of Dremlock. This wasn't how an aspiring Divine Knight should behave.

Jace didn't seem troubled in the least by what they were doing. In fact, he whistled a merry tune as he studied the altar in the torchlight. The lid on the altar was sealed with a new, sophisticated lock. "Looks like a tough one," he said. "I think you'll have to use the Eye of Divinity."

Lannon cringed. "Maybe we should try again later."

"Would you mind closing the door?" Jace said.

Lannon heard something quietly scrape against stone behind him and he whirled around, but the door frame stood empty in the torchlight. Lannon wondered if he'd really heard anything or if his imagination was getting the best of him. He pulled the door shut and approached the altar.

"I don't think I can handle that lock," said Lannon, though he wasn't being entirely truthful. Though it wouldn't be easy, it was certainly possible he could pick the lock. He was simply hoping Jace would give up.

Jace sighed. "Give me your tools. I know a few tricks for a complex lock like this. Tricks of sorcery. I'll see what I can do."

Lannon tossed him the bag of tools and Jace went to work. Chills crept over Lannon's flesh. He turned and saw something shining in the darkness-a pair of small, crimson lights. He moved the torch, but the glow didn't extend far enough to reveal anything. Lannon drew his Dragon sword-the powerful weapon made of bones from a rare type of Goblin.

"I need torchlight to do this task," Jace muttered.

"I see something," said Lannon. "Lights." He blinked his eyes. The red lights were gone, and he wasn't sure he'd actually seen them.

"It was your imagination," said Jace, looking uncertain. He raised his eyebrows. "The Temple door was locked, so logic dictates nothing could possibly be in here. Now give me some torchlight to work with."

Lannon started to turn, and the crimson lights appeared again-but this time they hurtled toward him with a flapping of wings. He watched, stunned, as a man-sized, bat-shaped form leapt onto him. Claws ripped into Lannon's chest as he was lifted up and flung atop the altar, the monstrosity lying on top of him. It was a Bloodfang-a type of Goblin that could shred flesh from bone in seconds.

The Eye of Divinity sprang to life on instinct, and Lannon was able to freeze the creature before it could tear him to pieces. The Bloodfang's strength was enormous, and Lannon struggled to hold it in place. He cried out to Jace for help, yet he was certain Jace could do nothing. Even though Jace was a former Knight and supposedly some kind of sorcerer, he carried no weapons and just didn't seem like someone who would be skilled in a fight.

Drool dripped on Lannon's cheek, as the crimson eyes glowered down on him with rage. Lannon gagged on its stench-the stench of its body, its breath, and its evil aura. The creature was the most hideous thing Lannon had ever seen-a bat-like abomination of claws, teeth, and insane fury. Intelligence gleamed in the beast's dark eyes, a sinister knowledge of how to kill. Its rage was so potent it seemed to break the power of the Eye of Divinity, and the fangs descended toward Lannon's throat. Lannon was certain everything was going to end on that altar.

Then Jace's huge, bony fist crashed down on the Bloodfang's skull. The Bloodfang leapt off of Lannon, let out a wounded screech, and flung itself at Jace. Jace struck it again with an astoundingly swift blow to the head while sidestepping the creature's charge.

The Bloodfang staggered, its wings quivering and dark blood pouring from its mouth. Then it finally collapsed into a trembling heap. It shuddered violently a few times and then stopped moving.

Jace rubbed his knuckles. "That kind of hurt."

Lannon sat up, gazing in disbelief at the fallen Bloodfang. "You…you killed it with your bare hand?"

Jace shrugged. "Not exactly. It's a sorcery technique." He shone the torch around, and finding no further danger, checked Lannon's wounds. "In ancient times," he went on, "the technique of the empty hand-or Shattering Fist-was common among the Knights of Dremlock. It went out of style as more advanced weapon enchanting skills were developed. Later, it was ruled forbidden sorcery for some foolish reason. Anyway, I may be the only one left who practices it."

"It seems quite powerful," said Lannon, grimacing in pain as Jace probed his chest. "How badly am I injured?"

"You could stand to pay a visit to the Hall of Healing," said Jace. He sighed. "Although…questions will be asked. A Bloodfang is not poisonous, though, in spite of what most people believe." He smiled. "Remember, I'm an expert on Goblins. I wrote the book on them."

Lannon stared at the Bloodfang, feeling sick inside. "It nearly killed me." He clutched his forehead in frustration and groaned. "It seems like someone or something is always trying to kill me lately. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I'm not sure I even want to be a Knight anymore. I'd rather stay alive."

"Sorry to inform you," said Jace, "but it's too late to consider that. Even if you left Dremlock, your foes would hunt you down. You're too much of a threat for them to ignore. You're better off under the protection of this kingdom."

"I guess you're right," Lannon said, his voice heavy with gloom.

"Regardless," said Jace, "here we have another assassination attempt, but how could the creature have gotten in here? Someone must have unlocked the Temple door, and then locked it again. But how would they have known we were planning to… Unless the creature slipped in behind us somehow." Jace wiped sweat from his brow. "I need to stay more alert. That should not have happened."

"I just want to go back to my room," said Lannon. "If, that is, you think I can heal up on my own."

"The wounds aren't very deep," said Jace. "You should be fine with some rest and meditation. Though you'll be a bit sore for a day or two. We can try again when you're feeling up to it. Just make sure to use your cloak to conceal your injuries from the guards, or you will be questioned. I'm going to stay and examine this creature. I'll meet up with you later."

"I don't have a torch," said Lannon. "The woods are very dark." He shuddered at the thought of walking the trail alone.

"Nevertheless," said Jace, "you better get going. Use the Eye of Divinity to guide you and warn you of danger."

Lannon hesitated, afraid to summon the Eye.

Jace touched Lannon's shoulder, and the lad's fear diminished. Jace seemed to harbor some strange power in his touch that could put Lannon instantly at ease. "You should fear the blinding darkness, Lannon. Not your sorcery. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must set to work on examining this foul creature."

Lannon nodded and left. He didn't feel up to much of anything beyond hiding in his room and hoping all of his troubles would go away on their own.

***

When Lannon arrived at his room, the guards gave him a stern reminder that he wasn't to go anywhere without them, but they didn't report him (perhaps to save themselves from being questioned). Once in his room, Lannon found Vorden awake and sitting on his bed. Vorden seemed relaxed and in good spirits.

"Good to see you're still alive," said Vorden.

"Keep your voice down," said Lannon, sitting on his own bed. His chest throbbed in pain but wasn't bleeding. "And I'm actually quite lucky to be alive. I was attacked by a Bloodfang. I'll likely have a few scars."

"A Bloodfang?" Vorden's dark eyes widened. "I remember the one we saw beneath the Old Keep. You are lucky to be alive."

Lannon rubbed his temples. "I don't know what to do, Vorden. Everything is in chaos. Taris and Furlus are wounded. And now I'm stuck with this crazy Jace fellow who I'm not sure I can trust. Furlus told me to take the fight to my foes, but where do I begin? I don't even know who my foes are, or where they might be lurking. All I know is that my enemies want me dead."

"You're kind of at a crossroads," said Vorden. "Things are happening all around you, but you're not sure which path to take."

Timlin sat up. "All evil seems to come from below Dremlock. Maybe you should go down there."

"I'd rather not," said Lannon, chilled at Timlin's suggestion. The dreary, Goblin-infested mining area below Dremlock was the last place he cared to visit. There seemed to be nothing down there but evil and death.

"We could go together," said Vorden, "like last time. If Tenneth Bard is still alive and behind all of this, we could finish him off." Vorden reached under the bed and brought forth a dark sword that seemed adorned with spider-web runes. It was the sword he'd found in the mines and said he'd gotten rid of. "Yeah, I still have it. And I still intend to behead Tenneth Bard with it."

Lannon groaned, overwhelmed by frustration. "Vorden, you said you'd tossed that thing down a well. Now I have this to worry about."

"That sword is evil," said Timlin. "It will destroy you, Vorden."

Vorden chuckled. "Enough with the silly doom and gloom talk. This is not an evil sword. It does bear some unknown enchantment…something very interesting. Little shadows…" He turned the blade over, and for an instant, tiny, shadowy spiders seemed to be crawling on his flesh. His face looked unusually pale. Then his appearance became normal again.

Lannon's mouth hung open. "I just saw…something."

"It's an enchanted blade," said Vorden, shrugging. "You have one of your own, Lannon. Your sword is made from the bones of a Dragon-a type of evil Goblin. I would say that your sword is potentially more dangerous than mine."

"It's possessed by the Deep Shadow!" said Timlin. "I should tell the guards."

Vorden's eyes narrowed. "You better not."

"I can't worry about this," Lannon muttered. "I have too much else to worry about. Like how to stay alive."

A bit later, the door opened and Jace strode in. He held a silver ring in his hand, one engraved with crossed swords. "Is this item familiar to you Squires?"

"That's Master Garrin's ring!" said Timlin. "How did you get it?"

Jace's piercing gaze fell on Lannon. "I found this ring on a chain that was hanging from the neck of the Bloodfang that attacked you. The ring was tucked inside a pouch-like flap of skin."

"Then Master Garrin is dead?" said Lannon. "The creature killed him and took his ring?"

"No, he is quite alive," said Jace. "I suspect he willingly placed this ring on the Bloodfang, so that if the creature failed to assassinate you, Garrin would be exposed to Dremlock as the one who plotted the assassination."

"That doesn't make any sense," said Vorden. "Why would Garrin want to be found out if his plot failed?"

"It's the work of Tharnin," said Jace. "A test of faith. Garrin had to be held accountable in case of failure. I've seen this type of thing many times before. Someone ordered Garrin to place his ring on the Bloodfang's body-to motivate Garrin to succeed in his task. But he failed, and now he is exposed as a puppet of Tharnin. And soon the High Council will know of his treachery."

"That's a serious accusation," said Lannon, glancing at the open doorway nervously and keeping his voice low. "But I'm not surprised." So the truth had finally been revealed. Garrin was corrupted and seeking to kill Lannon. Lannon's heart was heavy with grief. Once, Garrin had been a wise and kind teacher. Now, he was a monster beyond trust or hope.

"We will meet with the High Council tonight," said Jace. "All of you must attend. Jerret Dragonsbane was attacked by a poison arrow earlier this evening while walking on a trail. The arrow grazed his arm. He is alive, Lannon, but it proves that your friends are in danger as well."

Timlin's face went deathly pale. "You mean..?"

Jace's gaze was stern. "Indeed. Someone wants all of you dead. Not injured, not questioned-but dead as dead can be." He smiled. "But that doesn't mean we can't spoil their plans, now does it?"

Chapter 5: The Divine Shield

The three Squires, led by Jace and the two guards, walked the wooded trail to the North Tower. Lannon kept trying to peer into the shadows beyond the torchlight, wondering if a poison arrow was pointed his way or if another Bloodfang (or something worse) was lying in wait for him. Lannon would have preferred to meet with the High Council in the morning, as he was still sore and shaken from the attack in the Temple, but the Knights didn't like to wait when it was an issue of great importance.

They found the High Council gathered at one of the long tables in Dremlock Hall (the Great Hall of the North Tower) minus Furlus Goblincrusher and Trenton Shadowbane. Taris was present, having healed rapidly, with half of his face bearing an ugly scar from his burns. Also seated at the table were Aldreya and Jerret (Jerret's shoulder was bandaged from the poison arrow attack) and Garrin Daggerblood. Garrin's eyes smoldered with anger. A crackling blaze in the large stone fireplace made the room comfortably warm, but the atmosphere seemed cold and full of tension. Also present was a bearded, muscular, dark-skinned Red Knight named Thrake Wolfaxe. Thrake was not a member of the High Council, but he was a high-ranking and respected Knight.

Garrin glowered at Lannon, his expression promising the Squire that he would suffer greatly. Lannon looked away in disgust, hating what Garrin had obviously become. To Lannon, Garrin's eyes looked savage and evil-infested with the Deep Shadow. They reminded Lannon of Goblin eyes.

Jace motioned for the Squires to sit, though Jace remained standing-a figure that towered over everyone present. He wiped sweat from his forehead and adjusted his cloak. His curly black hair was in disarray, but his eyes were stern with focus. "I'm sure Cordus informed all of you why I have asked for this meeting." He held up the ring, which looked quite small in his hand. "The evidence is clear. Garrin Daggerblood is behind the attempt on Lannon's life."

Garrin slapped the table in outrage. "How dare you accuse me of such a crime? You, who are an outsider-a failed Knight expelled from the Divine Order. And where did this so-called assassination attempt take place? And when?"

Jace's gaze never wavered. "In the Temple. After dark."

"And what were you doing in the Temple at that hour?" said Cordus. "The Temple is locked when the daily gatherings are finished. After dark, it is a forbidden area."

"Exactly!" said Garrin. "How can this Jace fellow even be trusted, now that we know he cares nothing for the Sacred Laws of Dremlock?"

"We should not have entered the Temple," said Jace, looking a bit uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. "It was ill advised and I take the blame for it. We were seeking evidence with the Eye of Divinity. So we bent the rules a bit."

"Such behavior is not tolerated," said Cordus. "You must seek permission from a Tower Master before you enter any forbidden areas. And Lannon must be guarded by Knights at all times. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," said Jace, bowing. "It won't happen again. Nevertheless, we did enter the Temple and Lannon was attacked. Oh, and Garrin's ring was found on the Goblin. That's very strong evidence of his ties to Tharnin, wouldn't you say?"

"It is nonsense," said Garrin. "My ring was stolen from me yesterday…from my bedchamber. Someone has tried to plant false evidence, to divide the Knights of Dremlock by creating suspicion in order to weaken us."

"That explanation is plausible," said Vesselin Hopebringer, the ancient Lord of the White Knights. His wrinkled hands trembled as he sipped water from a silver goblet. His face was barely visible beneath his huge white beard. "Garrin has always been an honorable Knight and a fine teacher. Why should we now accuse him of being a liar and in league with the Deep Shadow?"

"I agree," said Krissana Windsword, the Birlote archer. "The accusation is extremely serious. We must give Garrin the benefit of the doubt. This could be, as Garrin said, simply an attempt to divide and weaken us."

"Taris, what do you think?" said Cordus, stroking his unkempt black beard thoughtfully. "You know Garrin better than anyone here."

Taris' face, which was partially concealed beneath the hood of his cloak, showed no emotion. "I suppose we have to believe Garrin, without stronger evidence against his claim. But we should investigate further."

"I feel the same way," said Cordus. "The evidence is not enough. It appears there is no need for a vote."

"I think this is a rather large mistake," said Jace, sighing. "Frankly, I'm stunned at this decision. I'm convinced Garrin Daggerblood is in league with Tharnin. He reeks of Tharnin. I have become quite adept at identifying puppets of the Deep Shadow over the many, many decades that I've been alive. All of you must bear in mind that I am very old-older even than Vesselin Hopebringer, who has seen more than one-hundred and thirty winters."

"So very old," snarled Garrin, "yet with the face of a young man. Forbidden sorcery. You have altered your body with evil."

"My ways are forbidden to Dremlock," said Jace, "but they are not the ways of Tharnin." He glanced at Taris Warhawk for help.

"Jace speaks the truth," said Taris. "His sorcery is acceptable beyond the walls of Dremlock-though extremely rare among Noracks. There are plenty of Birlotes, and even some retired Knights, who use sorcery to preserve youth-though I admit Jace has done an exceptional job of it. In no way is that an indication of the influence of Tharnin."

"I agree," said Krissana Windsword. "There are Birlotes with extremely noble hearts who live for centuries. While I find it highly unusual that a Norack can preserve his youth to such a degree, it has been known to happen."

"Jace, you may continue," said Cordus.

"What I was saying," Jace went on, "is that I have great experience in matters like these. I know a slave of the Deep Shadow when I see one."

"Yet you are reckless," said Cordus. "Your life has been one of turmoil. You have made many wretched decisions, and in spite of your age, you apparently haven't learned wisdom. You act impulsively and put everyone around you at risk. Truthfully, you seem lost in your own little world."

Jace lowered his gaze. "Fair enough. I have made my share of mistakes. And yes, I've spent far too much time with my nose buried in books." He fidgeted uncomfortably. "But I'm telling you this man is guilty!" He pointed a long finger at Garrin. "Heed my words, Council members, or face this puppet's wrath!"

"Filthy lies!" Garrin retorted.

"Enough," said Cordus. "We have made our decision. Garrin, you are dismissed. You may return to your duties unrestricted."

Garrin rose and bowed. He sneered at Lannon as he walked past on his way out, letting the Squire know he wasn't finished with him.

Lannon groaned inwardly. It didn't surprise him that the ring was not enough evidence to sway the High Council. Garrin Daggerblood was well respected in Dremlock. But like Jace, Lannon was certain that Garrin could not be trusted. To make matters worse, Garrin was a powerful Blue Knight skilled in the arts of stealth and assassination. If he wanted Lannon dead, Lannon would have his hands full trying to protect himself. Garrin knew many silent ways to kill.

"Now, I have a question," said Cordus, addressing Jace. "We're paying you a lot of silver to dig up answers, and though I admire you for finding Garrin's ring and bringing the issue to our attention, I feel a bit cheated. Is that all you have for us? What of the demon man and his gauntlet?"

"As a matter of fact," said Jace, "I do have an update on that situation." Jace pulled a leather-bound book from a pocket of his cloak. He held it up. "I found this in the East Tower Library, covered in dust in a storage room. It reveals drawings of an item similar to the demon man's gauntlet-an item called The Hand of Tharnin. It is said to be an unstable weapon, causing madness, and thus it is a forbidden device under Tharnin law. The gauntlet was wielded by a powerful Black Knight who went mad and slaughtered his fellow warriors. The gauntlet was lost three centuries ago during a great battle." Jace scratched his head. "Well, that's all I can gather so far. The book is written in old Knightly code, difficult to translate, which is probably why it was all but discarded. And I suspect it is probably somewhat inaccurate."

"Anything else?" said Cordus. "Anything a bit more useful?"

"Yes, one more topic," said Jace. "I saw the demon man. He visited me in the forest and told me to bring Lannon to the ruins of Serenlock Castle-that he would face Lannon in a duel to the death."

Gasps arose from the High Council members. Cordus motioned for silence. "Why did you not report this immediately?"

Lannon shuddered. He hoped the Knights would not agree to the demon man's request. Considering what had happened the last time the demon man had gotten close to Lannon, he doubted they would.

"It happened earlier," said Jace. "I was focused on the evidence against Garrin Daggerblood and I didn't want to distract from this issue. Bear in mind that I am not a Knight. I don't have to report anything that doesn't pertain to the issue I'm being paid to resolve. Regardless, I have now reported the incident.

"And what do you think of his request?" said Cordus. "A trap?"

"Of course it's a trap," said Jace. "But my guess is that the trap is simply that the demon man thinks he can kill Lannon in combat. I believe he is mistaken. I believe Lannon can defeat him."

Lannon gulped. "But he almost killed me!"

"I have to agree with Lannon," said Taris. "Not only was the lad nearly slain, but Furlus and I were struck down."

"Lannon wasn't ready for that encounter," said Jace. "I believe the Eye of Divinity learns and adapts, that it will be better prepared for the next encounter. I suggest a small company of Knights and myself escort Lannon to Serenlock Castle. There, we shall let the duel take place. I'm confident Lannon will defeat his foe, and then we will have the demon man back in captivity."

"It's an extremely risky plan," said Cordus. "It seems we would be doing exactly what our foes want us to do. That is not the way of the Divine Order. We should bring surprise to them instead."

The Red Knight named Thrake Wolfaxe nodded. "Cordus speaks true. It is never wise to do anything our foes wish us to do-even if it seems we can gain an easy victory. It is always better to do the unexpected."

"Knightly logic," said Jace, "is not always, well, logical. This time, the situation is clear. The demon man thinks he can kill Lannon, and he is wrong. The surprise will be when he finds himself defeated."

"I don't like this plan at all," said Lannon, hoping the Knights would agree with him. "It's way too dangerous. I don't think I can win!"

"Yet I believe you must try," said Jace. "The demon man said that if you fail to partake in this duel, he will bring Dremlock to the ground-striking from the shadows. He also said he would attack innocents all over Silverland. Surely, many people will die if you refuse. Are you prepared to let that happen?"

Lannon bowed his head and didn't answer, trying to think of a way out. Looking up, he saw that Jerret Dragonsbane was gazing at him. Jerret looked very troubled, as if he harbored some grim secret. Lannon wondered how deeply the poison arrow attack had affected him. Lannon expected Jerret to look away, but Jerret just kept gazing at him with the same disturbing expression.

"The Squires may speak," said Cordus, "for they too are at risk."

"Can't you do something, Lannon?" Jerret blurted out. "I don't want to be assassinated. You have the Eye of Divinity!"

"I don't want to die either," said Timlin, his face pale. "If someone tried to kill Jerret, I might be next!"

"I think you can do this, Lannon," said Vorden. "You have far more strength than you realize. I know you can do it."

"This is your chance to be a hero, Lannon," said Aldreya. "Better to die as a noble warrior than live as a coward. You should welcome this opportunity to prove yourself."

Lannon's face reddened with shame. Aldreya's courage made him feel terribly weak. He couldn't understand her thinking. He wanted to be a great, honorable Knight, and in order to meet that goal, he would have to confront his foes. But on the other hand, if he ended up slain in battle, he would never become a Knight anyway. It was a frustrating situation. But he knew if he refused an order to face the demon man in combat, he would be considered a coward-and cowards didn't become Divine Knights of Dremlock no matter what skills they possessed.

"Taris," said Cordus, "you know that I trust your advice more than the advice of any man alive. What do you think we should do?"

Taris sat in silence for several moments, his scarred face furrowed in thought beneath his hood. At last he shrugged. "I don't know for certain. But I agree with Jace that the Eye of Divinity can adapt-though we must bear in mind that it is a power that is not easily understood and unique to each person who possesses it. I can accompany the Knights to Serenlock. I will guard Lannon with my life. Yes, I think we should attempt this, rather than let the demon man attack us from the shadows. No matter which path we choose, there is great risk."

"I can send five Archers," said Krissana Windsword, "led by Fadar Stonebow, to follow on horseback and take position in the hills around Serenlock in case of an ambush."

"The Five Archers of Dremlock!" Aldreya said excitedly, to Lannon. "They were trained in my homeland of Borenthia before they came to this kingdom. Fadar Stonebow is the greatest Archer who has ever lived."

"Then who will guard the wall?" said Cordus, frowning. "Those Archers are essential to protecting our kingdom from outside invasion."

"We have other skilled Archers for that task," said Krissana. "Yes, the wall will be weakened in the absence of Dremlock's elite, but it will remain guarded. And protecting Lannon is vital to our kingdom."

"I don't like it," said Cordus, "but I'll trust your judgment on it, Krissana. And we do need to be alert to an ambush. We will send out the Elder Hawks to scour the land and make sure no large battalion of Goblins or Legion Soldiers is lurking along that route. If the way is clear, we will go ahead with the plan."

"I don't think I can do this," Lannon insisted. "This is a mistake! That demon man is far too powerful." He could feel his heart hammering in his chest. He couldn't believe the Knights were agreeing to Jace's mad plan.

Cordus' face hardened. "You will do as you are ordered, Lannon. And I am ordering you to do what you must to defend this kingdom. But you will not be without protection. I hereby call for a Divine Shield."

The other High Council members spoke their support.

"The Divine Shield," Cordus went on, "shall consist of Taris, Jace, and Lannon's friends and fellow Squires who share his peril." Cordus then ordered the huge Red Knight, Thrake Wolfaxe to join, along with the two Blue Knight guards, Willan Shadowwalker and Zannin Firespear. He also made Furlus an honorary member. Those present had to swear an oath to protect Lannon at all costs.

"The Divine Shield is strong," said Taris. "May our foes break against it."

Aldreya smiled at Lannon. "We'll defend you to our last breaths."

"That's right," said Vorden. "If you die, we die first."

"No enemy will get close to you, Lannon," said Timlin. He beamed. "This Divine Shield is a great idea."

"We're all in this together now," said Jerret. But he rubbed his shoulder, his face looking uncertain. The blond-haired Squire was usually cheerful and optimistic, but his eyes looked haunted. He seemed as terrified as Lannon.

Jace smiled at Lannon. "There are few men in this world who are defended by such quality warriors-and friends-as those who defend you."

Lannon did not return the smile. He was being ordered to fight a battle that seemed impossible to win. He'd felt the power of the demon man's gauntlet-power beyond any Knightly skills or even his Eye of Divinity. How could Lannon feel anything but misery when he was certain that nothing but death awaited him in the ruins of Serenlock Castle?

Chapter 6: The Duel

Two days later, the company of Knights and Squires departed on horseback for Serenlock Castle. The Squires were provided with their own horses. It was a cloudy, foggy spring morning with a light rain falling, and the road down the mountain was muddy and slippery in places. Boulders and massive pines loomed in the mist around them, providing excellent cover for an ambush. Lannon was grateful the others had sworn to protect him, but he doubted they could stop a poison arrow if one flew from the mist in his direction.

Whatever fears Lannon harbored over using the Eye of Divinity were overruled by his fear of assassination As he searched the fog for dangers, the Eye revealed many strange things about the mountain that he ignored-bits and pieces of knowledge that tried to take shape. It was a fairly weak use of the Eye, and he was able to sustain it for long periods of time without tiring.

The five elite archers-three woman and two men-rode a short distance behind Lannon's group, their green and gold clothing adorned with intricate Birlote designs. Their longbows were made of pale Borenthia oak, from the great tree city. Their leader-Fadar Stonebow-carried a green banner displaying an image of a white leaf, the symbol of the Birlote Royal Family. The sight of these magnificent archers boosted Lannon's confidence that he would be safe on the journey.

Vorden, who rode alongside Lannon, smiled at his friend. "It feels good to be out riding, doesn't it? This is why we came to Dremlock-for adventure. Sure beats training and studying with the other Squires."

"If I wasn't going to this duel," Lannon mumbled, "I probably would enjoy it. But all I can think about is that demon man. I guess I don't have the confidence everyone else seems to feel. I still can't believe we're going through with this."

"I'm with you on that, Lannon," said Jerret, who rode a few paces behind, alongside Aldreya. "When I was attacked in Knightwood, I never saw the arrow coming. I never heard a thing. It was like all my Knightly training was useless. I guess my confidence has taken a serious blow as well."

"But you're alive, Jerret," said Vorden. "That speaks well of your training. I'm assuming you did something to save yourself."

"I just got lucky," said Jerret. "The arrow deflected off a metal button of my tunic, of all things. It grazed my shoulder. It was strange. I was poisoned, but it was such a small amount the White Knights managed to cure me. I'm still kind of dazed over it. It's like…I can't seem to forget about it." He sighed and ran his fingers through his tangles of blond hair. "I just keep seeing it in my mind-how close I was to death. I know it's cowardly, but I can't forget it."

"It's not cowardly," said Lannon, who knew exactly how Jerret felt. "You were close to death. That's not an easy thing to deal with."

"Knights face death all the time," said Vorden, shrugging. "It's just something we have to get used to."

"We're not Knights," said Jerret. "We're Squires-and not even grown men. We're not ready to face death, but we've been forced into it by circumstance."

"I'm ready," said Vorden. "More than ready."

"I feel the same," said Aldreya. "It's an honor to die in the service of my kingdom, if it comes to that."

Aldreya's unyielding courage was beyond Lannon's comprehension. He decided that Birlotes in general were beyond his comprehension. The Tree Dwellers were very proud of their ways and seemed to know their place in the world. Lannon, on the other hand, felt detached and uncertain. Vorden didn't have Aldreya's upbringing, but he was never at a loss for confidence and Lannon envied him as well. Vorden and Aldreya seemed born to be Knights.

"Stay alert, Squires," Taris called back. "And I want Willan and Zannin to flank you whenever possible, Lannon, with drawn blades."

Lannon's friends moved away, and the two Blue Knights took position on either side of him, their weapons drawn. They were sullen, quiet men, lean of build and adorned with leather armor. Both held swords, and their dark eyes shifted about constantly as they scanned the mist.

"Those Blue Knights are two of Dremlock's best, Lannon," said Taris. "I want them close to you because I believe we're going to face an ambush."

"Why do you think that?" Lannon asked, his heart beating faster. He'd been letting the Eye of Divinity wane a bit, but he sent it out with renewed vigor. He knew from experience that Taris was seldom wrong about such things.

Taris ignored him and rode on. The Birlote sorcerer's grey cloak seemed to blend with the fog. He looked small compared to the towering figure of Jace who rode next him. Thrake Wolfaxe rode at the head of the group, battle axe in hand.

Suddenly, Lannon glimpsed something in a grove of pines about thirty yards away-an unknown menace that appeared to him as an evil, crouching shadow. The shadow seemed to consist of squirming, smaller shadows-as if the being were made of writhing serpents. The distance was considerable and Lannon couldn't seem to summon the strength to determine exactly what manner of foe was hiding amongst the trees. At last he called out a warning to Taris.

"What do you see?" Taris asked, drawing his stone dagger.

Lannon pointed at the pines. "I'm not sure what it is."

Taris motioned to Thrake Wolfaxe and the two rode into the grove of pines. Lannon waited, hardly daring to breathe. Moments later, Taris and Thrake returned, their faces grim.

"Whatever was there," said Thrake, "departed rather quickly. We found the remains of a deer, and it looks as if the creature was feasting. It could have simply been a stray Goblin from the Bloodlands-or perhaps even a wolf or bear."

"My instincts tell me otherwise," said Taris. "I could feel a lingering aura of evil in the air-the stench of a powerful Goblin."

"It wasn't a natural animal," said Lannon. "It was something dark and strange-something that was plotting evil. I could sense that much, at least."

"The demon man?" asked Jace.

"I don't think so," said Lannon. "It was like nothing I've ever seen or felt, like a creature made of smaller creatures."

Jace frowned, as if puzzled. "If it's a Goblin, then it's one I've never heard of. Or perhaps I've forgotten. There are so many…"

The company rode on. Lannon caught no more glimpses of danger, and he started to relax a bit. The Greywind he rode seemed to know exactly where to go, and Lannon let the horse keep its own pace.

But as they neared the bottom of the mountain, along a stretch of the trail where no houses stood-just trees and rocks-a dark figure slipped from the mist and blocked their path. The figure seemed to be a mass of shifting darkness with two yellow eyes. It was clearly some kind of Goblin, but Lannon had never seen anything like it. The Eye of Divinity seemed to falter and shy away from it.

"Halt!" Jace cried out to the company. "Do not move a muscle!" Jace's voice was tense-almost desperate sounding.

The riders came to a stop. "What is it?" asked Taris, his stone dagger burning with the green fire of sorcery.

"I think this is a Host Goblin," said Jace. "If I'm right, it will use smaller Goblins as projectile weapons. Beware of flying objects!"

The shadowy creature simply stood in the trail watching them, its flesh squirming as if in agitation. Lannon tried again to focus the Eye on it, but again he was turned away. He suspected the creature was shielding itself from him somehow. He could sense great danger, but the Goblin didn't look very powerful. In fact, it looked small and weak, hunched over as if with age.

"No one must move except to defend," Jace called back. He signaled to the archers to hold back. "If you move, you will be attacked. Taris and I will handle this. The goal is to flank the creature. I'll move closer and allow myself to be attacked. Then Taris will move closer. And slowly we will close in on it!"

"I hope it can't understand speech," said Taris, rolling his eyes.

Jace didn't reply. He guided his horse toward the Goblin. Immediately, the Goblin hurled something at Jace with blinding speed. Jace batted the projectile away-a shadowy centipede that landed unharmed and scuttled off into the fog. He slowly wiped sweat from his brow. "Taris," he said, "move around to its right side-just a couple of yards for now. Be prepared."

Holding his burning dagger in front of him with one hand, Taris prompted his horse forward. Immediately, the Goblin plucked a squirming Centipede off itself and threw it at him. The projectile's speed was arrow fast, but it struck the dagger's green flames and disintegrated.

"Excellent," Jace said calmly. "This is going very well." His face was tense, sweat dripping from it. Jace started forward, but this time he was a bit too slow in blocking the Goblin's throw. A Centipede struck him in the face and knocked him off his horse into the mud.

Lannon's heart sank, but he dared not move to help Jace. He felt terribly helpless, like a prisoner confined to the saddle while his friends faced death.

"Hold your position-all of you!" Jace called from where he lay. A moment later, he jumped up and batted aside another Centipede projectile. His face was streaked with blood.

"How badly are you injured?" asked Thrake Wolfaxe. The Red Knight held his battle axe in one shaking hand-clearly growing tired from holding the heavy weapon in that position.

"I'm fine," said Jace. "I removed the Centipede before it could poison me-though it was a very close call. Taris, keep moving in."

Taris guided his horse closer-and blocked another squirming projectile that flew at his face. In spite of being blocked, this one hit with such impact it nearly threw him off his horse, but he remained in the saddle. His eyes smoldered with anger. "Vile creature!" he muttered.

Jace stepped around his horse, but the Goblin hurled a Centipede at Vorden this time. Somehow, Vorden's spider sword rose in time to slash the projectile from the air. Vorden cried out in triumph.

"Well done, Squire!" Jace called out, grinning. "Now, continue to hold your ground. We'll get through this."

But Timlin wasn't listening. The attack on Vorden drove him into a panic, and he leapt from his horse and ran for a boulder. The Goblin threw at him and barely missed-though the Centipede hit Timlin's horse in the neck and stuck there. The Greywind reared up, whinnying, and then collapsed in death. The Centipede scuttled away from the horse and vanished behind a pine.

Taris groaned in frustration. "Timlin, you cowardly wretch! Now you've lost a fine horse!"

"Did I not say to hold your ground?" Jace called out, his voice weary. "Fleeing will do no good. We must be patient."

Taris moved in. This time, the Goblin hurled a Centipede at Aldreya. The young Birlote sorceress had her own burning dagger in front of her. She screamed, even as the Centipede disintegrated against the blade, and toppled from her horse.

"I've had enough of this!" Taris said.

"Wait!" Jace insisted. "If we rush in, some of us will die!"

But the Tower Master ignored him, clearly enraged. Taris' stone dagger burned so hot the others couldn't look at it, the green fire becoming almost white in hue. The creature shrank back, blinded. But then the Host Goblin launched a flurry of projectiles at the company, even as Taris leapt in and struck with his dagger.

Taris drove his dagger into the Goblin three times, causing the creature to erupt into green flames. As the Host Goblin crumbled to the ground, burning, a cry of agony arose from near Lannon. One of the Blue Knights had thrown himself in front of Lannon to block a flying Centipede-and it had struck him in the throat. His howl was choked off as he lay in the mud, and soon his body went still.

Reacting on instinct, the Knight had leapt onto Lannon's horse to shield him. But he'd been too slow in raising his sword to block the projectile. The Centipede had poisoned him on contact, and he'd died in a matter of seconds from the sorcery-infested venom-perhaps even before he hit the ground.

Lannon stared down at the fallen Knight in shock. The Eye of Divinity revealed the Knight's spirit, departing from his body in death-like a luminous mist uncoiling into the air. Lannon looked away, not wanting to know the path of the dead. He wondered if he could have stopped the projectile with his power, if the Knight's death had been needless.

With a cry of sorrow and anger, Lannon seized the Centipede with the Eye before it could escape and crushed it into ruin. But the damage was done, and not even the great Eye of Divinity could change that fact.

Taris bowed his head, as he stood over the Host Goblin's remains. He didn't turn around. "Check on the fallen Knight, Jace."

His face somber, Jace did as ordered. "Zannin Firespear is dead, Taris."

"Wretched Goblins!" Thrake Wolfaxe bellowed.

Willan Shadowwalker, the other Blue Knight of the company, knelt by the body and groaned. "He was my friend, and I fought with him through many battles. I thought he would live forever."

"I should have listened to you, Jace," said Taris. "My impatience got the best of me, and now a Knight is dead."

"Perhaps," said Jace, "but this could have happened regardless. Or even more could have died."

"It might not have been necessary," said Lannon, feeling horrible inside. "I could have saved myself. The Eye would have protected me."

"Don't ever speak such words," Taris said, whirling around, his scarred face twisted in anger. "Zannin swore an oath to protect you, and he fulfilled that oath. You should feel nothing but gratitude over his actions."

Lannon nodded. "I just didn't want this to happen." He hadn't known Zannin, but that didn't make the burden any easier to bear.

"He did what he felt he needed to do," said Jace, shrugging. "Don't blame yourself, Lannon. Things like this happen."

"Willan, you will take his body back to Dremlock," said Taris. "I will replace you at Lannon's side."

"Afterwards, I will return and fulfill my vow," said Willan.

"No," said Taris. "You will remain at Dremlock and mourn your friend. You can fulfill your vow later."

Willan nodded, his eyes haunted by his pain.

Taris started to say something more, but then his eyes glazed over. He reached up and touched the scars that covered half of his face. His legs sagged beneath him and he collapsed to one knee.

Jace grabbed his shoulder. "What ails you?"

"My wound is not fully healed," said Taris.

Instinctively, Lannon focused the Eye of Divinity on Taris' face. He could see creeping shadows, like tiny serpents, slithering over Taris' scarred flesh. These fragments of dark sorcery caused pain and doubt, but somehow the sorcerer hid it well most of the time. Taris was fighting a fierce battle of wills with the evil sorcery that was still trying to burrow deeper into his being. Lannon was appalled at how much pain Taris was experiencing-and he was amazed at the sorcerer's endurance. The injury was terrifying, and it made Lannon all the more reluctant to engage in his forthcoming duel.

Taris took Timlin aside and chastised him for fleeing. Lannon couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see that Timlin's face was red with shame. At one point, Timlin turned and started to walk away, but Taris seized his tunic and whirled him around, obviously not finished with the lad.

The mood was somber as the Knights lit a pyre for the fallen horse. The grim faces told the tale-that everyone was thinking of the slain Knight. Taris knelt before the fire and bowed his head, as if in prayer. The others did the same, except for Jace, who stood leaning against a tree and smoking a pipe.

When the ritual was finished, they resumed their trek down the mountain. A steady spring rain began to fall, adding to their woes. They passed a few inns where they could have taken refuge-including the Knights Lore Inn, where Lannon had stayed during his initial journey to Dremlock. But the company was determined to ride on and make the most of daylight. By the time the terrain leveled off, they were soaked to the skin and splashed with mud.

Lannon sat hunched in the saddle, rain dripping from his face, the death of Zannin weighing heavily on his heart and the dread of the impending duel haunting his mind. It seemed utterly foolish to ride out and abandon Dremlock, as if they were content to blunder into an obvious trap that had already cost the life of a Knight. He wanted to complain to Taris about it, but he knew Taris would only react with anger. He was on his way to the duel and that was that.

Lannon noticed, however, that Taris kept glancing his way. Lannon ignored it at first, too sullen and miserable to question the sorcerer. But at last he muttered, "Is something wrong, Master Taris?"

"You saw deeper into my wound," said Taris, running his fingers over the scars on his face, beneath his hood. "You glimpsed my pain, my struggle."

"I saw…shadows," said Lannon, shrugging.

"It struck fear in your heart," said Taris, nodding at his own words. "You can't accept the fact that we are forcing you-a mere Squire of Dremlock-to fight in what could be a duel to the death."

"I don't understand it," said Lannon, grateful for a chance to voice his feelings. "I don't feel ready for this."

"You are training to be a Divine Knight," said Taris. "Both Knights and Squires are sometimes called upon to fight duels. There is nothing unusual about this. We have fought duels against the Blood Legion for centuries, and we have solved many disputes that way. You must bear in mind that ours is a holy kingdom that serves the Divine Essence. We are sworn to protect Dremlock at all costs. Serving our god is more important even than living, and if we can serve it better by sacrificing our lives in combat, then that is what we must do."

Lannon nodded, but he wasn't fond of Taris' words. Lannon didn't want to die for any reason-even for the Divine Essence. "You're right," he mumbled. "It is my duty, of course."

"But you don't believe I'm right," said Taris, smiling. "You wonder why you should risk your life for a shattered god that looks like a lump of crystal-a god who you're not even allowed to cast your gaze upon. Do not lie to me."

Lannon sighed. "I guess you know me well, Master Taris."

"I know what I see, lad," said Taris. "But let me tell you that a real Divine Knight is not born from study and training. When the time comes, you will do what you must do. The fact that you ride with us now is proof of that." Taris winked at him. "If I were to call off this journey, you would question me. And if you thought calling it off was a bad decision, you would press me to continue on."

Lannon considered Taris' words, but he wasn't as sure about them as the sorcerer seemed to be. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," said Taris. "You have far more courage than you know."

"Not as much as you have," said Lannon.

"Yes, my wound runs deep," said Taris, his face darkening. "It threatens my mind-evil sorcery that bites into my flesh, again and again. In all my years, I have never experienced anything this terrible."

"You shouldn't be on the journey," said Lannon. "You need rest."

"I will rest soon enough," said Taris. "When I retire."

Lannon's eyes widened. "Retire? You can't retire!"

"I certainly can," said Taris. "I have earned the right. And I am weary to the core. The agony I suffer is taking quite a toll on me, young Squire. I'm not the same man who rode with you to Dremlock."

"There must be a way to heal you," said Lannon, struggling to imagine Dremlock without Taris Warhawk. "What about the Eye of Divinity?"

"The Eye does not heal," said Taris. "It gains knowledge and moves objects. I have never heard of the Eye being used as a healing method."

"But the dark sorcery is like an enemy," said Lannon. "Maybe I could seize it and…and get rid of it somehow."

"No," said Taris, "it is more like a disease that requires special healing. If the White Knights of Dremlock cannot cure me, I am finished as a Divine Knight. I'll retire to my forest kingdom of Borenthia, where my pain can be managed. And there I will live in peace and let my body age naturally until death ends my suffering. My body cannot endure much more, and soon I will be forced to ride to my homeland and seek the council of the Birlote Wizards."

Lannon nodded. He hated the thought of Taris leaving Dremlock, but he understood the sorcerer's reasons. "We'll find some way to cure you, Master Taris. I know we will. I need your guidance."

"If we can obtain the gauntlet that inflicted my wound," said Taris, "and study it, there might be a chance of finding a way to rid my body of this infection. Now, do you still want to end this quest and return to Dremlock?"

Lannon found, to his surprise, that he wanted to continue on. He wanted to help Taris at all costs. "No, I'll find some way to win that duel, and we'll claim the gauntlet."

Taris smiled. "There is some of that courage I mentioned. Now you're ready to risk everything-because I've made it personal." He leaned a bit closer and whispered, "That is real courage, my young friend. It comes from the heart. I've seen many Knights who seemed to have unyielding honor and courage falter or become corrupted. And I've seen some like you, who doubted whether they had any courage at all, do whatever needed to be done when the time came. Dremlock and the god below it mean little to you at this point. But people mean everything to you, and that is all you need to be a great Knight."

Lannon was grateful for Taris' encouragement. He knew that it was Taris' duty to keep the Squires from losing confidence in themselves, but the sorcerer's words left Lannon sitting a bit taller in the saddle. He found himself anxious to get on with the duel, as he knew Taris was in constant torment. He realized that Taris seemed to know Lannon better than Lannon knew himself at times.

Suddenly, Timlin cried out a warning and pointed at the sky. Lannon gazed upward, using the Eye of Divinity, but even with his power he could see nothing through the rain but grey clouds. Raindrops battered his eyeballs, and the Eye of Divinity faltered. Instinctively, Lannon threw up his arm protectively, wondering what new threat Timlin's keen vision had spotted.

"I see it!" Taris said, shielding his eyes as he stared upward. "A Vulture, I believe-circling high overhead. The rain does not trouble it. Well done, Timlin. You have taken a step toward redeeming yourself."

"Timlin has sharper vision than a Birlote," said Aldreya, moving wet, tangled hair from her eyes. "It's too bad he lacks courage."

Timlin's face reddened, and he seemed about to say something. But then he glanced at Taris and lowered his gaze.

Jerret shook his head. "You know I love you, Aldreya. But that's not a nice thing to say to a fellow Squire."

Aldreya's looked confused. "You love me?"

"As a friend and fellow Squire, of course," said Jerret, winking at her. "But Timlin doesn't need to hear that right now. He just lost his wits back there. It could happen to any of us. I thought about fleeing too."

"Silence, Squires!" Taris commanded.

"Could be just a stray Goblin from the Bloodlands," Jace called back, sounding impatient. "Vultures are not an uncommon sight in this region."

"Perhaps," said Taris, "but my instincts tell me it's a spy." He signaled to the archers, and they fired arrows toward the heavens.

Moments later, a dark shape fell to earth-a Goblin Vulture with a very humanoid head and a mouth that resembled a bloody gash. Lannon shuddered. The creature's black eyes seemed fixed on him, even in death.

"Either way," said Taris," one less Goblin to haunt the land."

But then two more Vultures appeared, diving toward Lannon through the rain. They erupted into bloodcurdling screeches as they descended, their claws stretched out to rip at his flesh. The archers killed one of the beasts, and Timlin shot the other. The Vultures flopped around in the mud before going still.

Lannon turned and waved to Timlin, grateful the little fellow was watching his back. Amongst the Squires, Timlin was the best archer at Dremlock. Lannon realized something wasn't right, however. That had been a weak attempt on his life-too weak to be considered anything but a prelude or a diversion.

And sure enough, seven Jackal Goblins leapt from the fog and charged at Lannon, their long teeth and claws like jagged knife blades. They moved with tremendous speed and agility as they bounded over the earth.

Jace leapt from his horse and tackled one of them, bearing it to the ground. Man and beast rolled around in the mud. Meanwhile, Timlin caught one of the Jackals in the shoulder with an arrow, but the Goblin kept charging. Taris and Vorden rode in front of Lannon to protect him, their weapons drawn.

The archers, unable to get a clear shot, held back with their arrows ready. But Timlin kept firing. He shot another Jackal in the neck, and this time the beast went down in a mass of flailing arms and legs.

Taris hurled green fire from his dagger and burned a Jackal to ash. Another Jackal charged at Vorden but then bounded over him, knocking Lannon from his horse. With the others engaged in battle with the remaining Goblins, and the archers left with no clear shot, Lannon was forced to fend for himself.

The thought of Taris' suffering filled Lannon with anger, and he seized the Jackal with the Eye of Divinity and shoved it off him. He drew his Dragon sword and ran the creature through. Unable to move, the beast was an easy target for a well-trained Squire like Lannon. The Dragon Sword seemed to fly right to the Jackal's heart. Lannon hated killing anything, but as a Squire of Dremlock, it was unavoidable. His life was destined to be one of combat and bloodshed, though he remained determined to avoid killing whenever possible.

Meanwhile, Jace rose from the mud, gripping in one huge hand the Jackal he'd been fighting with. The Jackal was limp in death, and Jace cast it aside-his gaze focused intently on Lannon.

Thrake slew two of the Jackals from horseback-his axe smoldering with crimson fire as he struck. The blade seemed webbed in red and black, pulsating veins. The huge, dark-skinned Red Knight drove into his foes with terrible impact, his axe burning through thick Goblin hide and crushing stout Goblin bone with ease. The mystical fire erupted on contact, throwing up sparks and bits of smoldering hide. Hot coals bounced off Thrake's bald head and some got caught in his bushy black beard, but he casually brushed them away.

Aldreya cast green fire from her dagger onto a Jackal's hide, where it quickly spread. Completely engulfed in flames, the beast ran howling into the fog, leaving a trail of black smoke. Aldreya cried after it in triumph. Lannon knew that she found Jackals particularly revolting.

Taris and Vorden dispatched all but one of the remaining Goblins. Vorden suffered shallow claw wounds to the arm, but overall he displayed the combat skills that made him the top Squire in his age group at Dremlock. He fought like a fully trained Knight, carving up his foe with deadly precision. Taris' sorcerous fire seemed to burn hot with rage, incinerating the Goblins it touched-as if the pain from his wound was causing him to lash out viciously at his foes.

The remaining Jackal got around the two defenders and charged at Lannon, only to stagger and collapse-impaled with three arrows from the archers, who had ridden closer and found an opening. The beast tried to rise again, its muzzle curled into a snarl of rage, but another arrow pierced its eye and finished it off.

With the ambush seemingly ended, they burned the bodies of the Jackals before moving on. Lannon wondered how many more attacks they would have to fend off before they reached Serenlock Castle. Obviously, the demon man had chosen an arena that was far enough from Dremlock that multiple ambushes could take place. With one Knight dead already, it seemed their foes were trying to wear them down. Lannon wondered if the demon man actually intended to have a duel or if he was simply planning a series of attacks and assassination attempts.

The rain held steady as the day wore on. They rode swiftly in spite of the weather and the need to stay alert, and soon they found themselves in the Northern Hills, also known as the Elder Lands. Tall, grassy hills sprawled as far as the eye could see, some displaying crumbling stone ruins. The thick pine forests of the Firepit Mountains had given way to mostly open country, with occasional lone pines or wooded groves here and there.

As they worked their way down the long, steep, muddy slope of a hill, Taris suddenly toppled from his horse. Ordering the company to halt and hold position, Thrake Wolfaxe-the second in command-leapt down from the saddle and knelt by the sorcerer. Thrake tried to lift Taris, but Taris pushed his hands away. The sorcerer's eyes smoldered with anger and frustration.

"I can stand on my own," Taris insisted, trying to rise.

"Let Thrake help you," Lannon said, stunned at what he saw.

"Yes, let him help you," Aldreya said, her eyes wide.

"I'm fine," Taris said. "I just need a moment. My mind… It grew weak and clouded. I gave in." At last, he struggled up from the ground and managed to climb back onto his horse. He seemed to be gasping for breath in the saddle.

Lannon hated to see the Tower Master in such a feeble condition. "Maybe you should return to Dremlock, Master Taris."

"No!" Taris interrupted, his devilish face twisted with disgust at the thought. "I will press on, and I will be fine. And none of you shall speak of what you saw. If word gets around that a Tower Master fell off his horse…" His face turned crimson with shame.

"We should call this off," said Thrake. "A Knight is dead, a Knight has returned to Dremlock bearing the body, and we are weakened and weary. This was a foolish venture to begin with. Riding out into seemingly endless ambush with only a small company of Knights…"

Taris nodded. "Perhaps, but I will give Lannon the choice. He is the one who must partake in the duel. What say you, Lannon?"

Lannon sighed, wishing the burden was not his to bear. If he decided to continue, more Knights-or even some of his friends-could die. But if he didn't continue, they would not gain possession of the demon man's gauntlet, and Taris could not be cured. Lannon feared for Taris' life.

"I don't know," said Lannon, shrugging helplessly.

"You must make a firm decision," said Taris.

"I say we press on," said Vorden. The dark-haired lad seemed eager for combat, his hand locked in a fierce grip around the hilt of his bizarre spider sword.

"I agree," said Timlin. "I want to kill more Goblins!"

"It's your decision, Lannon," said Aldreya. She gazed at Taris with fear in her eyes. "But maybe we should turn back."

"I think we've had enough," said Jerret, who looked terrified. "This seems to be an ill-fated quest."

"I'm all for turning back," said Thrake. "What about you, Jace?"

"I think we should continue on," said Jace, "if Taris thinks he can endure it. We came this far. The ruins of Serenlock are near."

"You have heard the others," said Taris, "and myself. Now, Lannon, what is your decision? You alone will bear the responsibility."

Lannon felt a twinge of anger. Why was Taris placing such a huge burden on a mere Squire? "I guess we'll keep going for now," said Lannon. "We're almost there. And I guess it's our duty to see it through."

Taris gazed at him sternly. "Then you're prepared to fight this duel?"

Lannon nodded, wondering if he'd lost his wits.

"Then we ride for Serenlock," said Taris.

"Maybe not," Jace said casually. "We might not have to go there." Jace pointed at a nearby hill. A dark figure stood atop it, watching them. "My eyesight isn't the greatest, but I do believe that is our demon fellow."

Taris squinted. "Yes, it is him! Ride!"

With that, the Tower Master rode off through the wet grass. The others followed, the Greywinds leaping over rocks and bleached logs that were barely visible in the tall grass. The figure on the hilltop stood motionless, but once the company started up the hill, the figure turned and fled.

When they reached the top, they found themselves gazing down into a valley of dead pines, ash, and hardened lava-called a Fire Reach. Through the center of the dead forest, winding like a crimson snake, was a swirling river of lava that never cooled. Rain hissed as it landed in the river, causing jets of steam to rise. What kept the lava in molten form was not known, but such eternally smoldering rivers were unique to Silverland. The demon man stood by the crimson river below, motioning to them with his gauntlet-covered hand. The two blue, glowing crystals in the glove beckoned them with a cold light.

"A Fire Reach!" said Thrake. "Very dangerous. This is a region sacred to Tharnin. It is certain to contain a well-guarded shrine."

"We ride on," Taris insisted, starting down the hill.

When the company reached the blackened river bank, the demon man had already fled deeper into the dead forest. Lannon had never been in an area as strange as the Fire Reach. It had the same holy feel as the Temple of Dremlock-but it also had a sinister and evil aura. This seemed to be a place of profound suffering and sacrifice. The huge dead pines were like charred bones rising from the lava-encrusted earth. The horses' iron shoes made loud clopping noises on the hard, black forest floor. Unsure of which way to go, they simply followed Taris along the river. In spite of the cool rain, the heat from the molten lava made them sweat.

At last they spotted a shrine through the trees. It was an arch with a pillar on either side-and it seemed to be made of hardened lava. The pillars and arch were lumpy with the shapes of skulls and bones. Also on each pillar was a large, demonic face. At the base of the shine were urns filled with ash.

Standing below the arch was the demon man, flanked by two Goblin Lords. The Goblin Lords held dark, twisted staffs, and crimson runes were painted on their foreheads. These were Priests of Tharnin-extremely powerful and intelligent Goblins who commanded sorcery. Their black eyes were filled with evil. The demon man still wore no shirt, and his bare chest was marked with ash runes. His gaunt face and bony ribs made him look half starved. He'd shaved his head bald, but had left a few crude patches of hair in the process.

"Welcome!" said the demon man. "I grew a bit impatient and decided to meet you here." He grinned at Lannon. "Are you ready for the duel?"

Lannon nodded, struggling to hide the terror he was feeling. This area made him feel weak, like an intruder in a sacred realm who must surely be destroyed. He felt like he was committing a grave wrong by being there.

"The Goblins must stand aside," said Taris. "If they try to interfere, my archers will make quick work of them."

"They tend this shrine," said the demon man. "They have no interest in interfering. We are the intruders here. These urns contain the ashes of those who have died fighting for the Lords of Tharnin. In this case, members of the Blood Legion who sacrificed themselves. Fallen Knights. Dremlock considers itself a holy kingdom, but it's really a fortress of despair built around a feeble creature that calls itself a god. Real gods dwell in the Realm of Tharnin."

"We didn't come here to be lectured," said Taris, "especially by a slave like you. We came for the duel."

The demon man laughed. "Well, this slave scarred your face and left you a weak, sickened man. Does that enrage you, Birlote? Have you come to see me destroyed, so you will have revenge?"

Taris didn't reply, though his face twitched.

A hint of a smile appeared on Jace's lips. The demon man glanced toward Jace and hissed. "What amuses you, Knight?"

"I'm not a Knight," said Jace. "And I'm amused by your weak personality. You remind me of a simple Goblin-like your priests there. The gauntlet you wear-this Hand of Tharnin-is an awkward fit for you. I'm convinced it could not have chosen a weaker host."

"You speak nonsense," said the demon man. "How dare you mock me? I'll kill you for that insult!"

"Listen to yourself," said Jace, with a chuckle. "You're not capable of intelligent conversation. You might as well just hiss like a snake. The gauntlet has failed miserably to enhance you and would probably just as soon be free of you. And that's precisely why Lannon will defeat you."

Lannon wasn't sure if it was wise for Jace to enrage the demon man, but he suspected Jace had some strategy in mind.

"Send the priests away," said Taris. "Then the duel can begin."

"Of course," said the demon man, waving them away. "As I said, they will not interfere unless the shrine is threatened."

The priests moved off amongst the trees, but stood watching. The archers trained their arrows on them.

Lannon glanced at Taris for instructions, but Taris simply motioned him toward the demon man. Slowly, Lannon dismounted and approached him, until the two foes stood about five feet apart in the rain. The demon man held up his gauntlet, so the two blue stones were facing Lannon. The light that the stones emitted was cold, but the air suddenly felt warped with heat. The Eye of Divinity revealed that the Fire Reach was an appropriate name, for the soil and air were infested with a fiery type of dark sorcery. These flames of evil were drawn into the gauntlet, enhancing its power. The demon man's face displayed a leer of supreme confidence-like the hideous faces sculpted on the pillars of the shrine.

The rain hissed as it made contact with the demon man, steam rising from his flesh. The air grew so hot the others-save for Taris-moved back a bit, protecting their faces. Lannon used the Eye of Divinity like a shield against the heat. Flames rose from the blackened earth, and the shrine pillars grew red hot.

"So this is where it ends," said the demon man. "You should never have been brought to Dremlock. You are not even a grown man yet. I hate to have to slay a child. It is rather unbecoming of a warrior like me. But I am left with no choice. The Knights, however, are to blame for your death."

Lannon said nothing, struggling to stay focused and block out the raging heat. He had no idea how Taris was able to withstand it, but the sorcerer sat rigidly in the saddle, stone dagger in hand. The scarred region of Taris' face seemed darkened by shadow, with his left eye gleaming yellow.

The demon man licked his lips. "The Eye of Divinity versus The Hand of Tharnin. What a grand duel that would be, were you not a pathetic and unskilled lad who was never fit to be a Knight to begin with."

Lannon realized the demon man might be trying to tire him, as Lannon had to keep protecting himself from the heat. The demon man undoubtedly expected Lannon to keep listening to his boasts and wait for him to make the first move.

"Your death will very painful," the demon man went on. "You will be roasted alive. Before all is said and done-"

Lannon seized him with Eye of Divinity, squeezing with all his might. He hoped to catch the demon man off guard and simply crush him-and be done with the whole affair. He hated the thought of killing a man (even a man as vile as this) but he was desperate to end the duel quickly. And for an instant he thought he was succeeding brilliantly. The demon man's eyes sprang open wide and his flesh gave way beneath the power of the Eye. But then the blue stones in the gauntlet shone brighter, and the Eye was pushed back.

The demon man snarled in rage and the heat grew more intense. Lannon thought his clothes and hair might burst into flames. The metal glove turned red hot, with the blue stones contrasting it. Slowly, the demon man began to move toward Lannon, the gauntlet turning and the fingers opening like claws. The smell of scorching iron was strong in Lannon's nostrils.

Lannon fought back fiercely, but his panic began to disrupt his focus. He could only watch in horror as the fingers reached for his throat. Then the Eye seemed to strengthen, and he shoved the demon man away.

With a snarl, the demon man lifted a rock with the gauntlet and flung it at Jace. The projectile nearly caught Jace off guard, but he ducked at the last instant and it missed his head by inches.

"The duel is broken!" Taris cried.

The demon man charged at Lannon, but again the Squire seized him with the Eye and froze him, while intense heat again threatened to overcome Lannon. And then a dark blade hurtled past Lannon and stuck in the demon man's shoulder-Vorden's spider sword, thrown like a spear. With a howl, the demon man staggered, clutching at the weapon. The flames and heat died down.

Weakened, Lannon fell to one knee. Taris jumped from his horse and attacked the demon man with his burning dagger, but the demon man knocked the weapon aside with his gauntlet and shoved Taris into a tree. The sorcerer fell to the ground and lay still, clutching his head with both hands.

The demon man hurled Vorden's sword aside, and then three arrows from the archers struck him-but the arrows glanced off an invisible shield. Hissing in fury, the demon man hurled a fireball from his gauntlet at the archers, scattering them. Timlin rode off to one side, preparing to shoot, and the demon man turned to face him. Timlin fired two arrows with astounding speed, but both were deflected as if they were simply annoying twigs.

Then Jace leapt from his horse and charged the demon man. When the demon man glimpsed the fact that Jace was unarmed, he sneered in contempt, not bothering to guard himself. Jace smashed his hand down on the fellow's head. The demon man stared at Jace, looking dazed. Jace smashed him twice more on the skull, and this time the demon man's eyes rolled back. He grabbed Jace with the gauntlet and hurled the huge man onto some rocks.

Thrake charged the demon man from horseback, slamming his smoldering axe down for the kill. But the demon man smashed the powerful axe aside with his gauntlet, causing an explosion of fire and sparks, and Thrake was thrown from his horse. The Red Knight landed with a clatter of armor.

The demon man turned back toward Lannon, deflecting more arrows and flame from Aldreya's dagger. But he couldn't seem to focus. He staggered, his eyes still showing their whites from the blows Jace had inflicted.

Lannon managed to regain some of his strength, and once again he seized the demon man with the Eye of Divinity. This time he squeezed the man's throat-and found little resistance. He easily choked the man until he was unconscious, and then quickly released him, hoping he hadn't killed him. But the Eye revealed that Lannon's foe was alive and not critically wounded.

Groaning, Jace rose from the rocks and rolled the demon man over. "Vorden, fetch the coil of Birlote rope from my horse."

The archers leapt down from their horses to tend to the fallen Knights. Thrake stood up on his own, having suffered a small gash to the head, but Taris was unconscious and had to be awakened and helped up.

Once Jace had bound the demon man securely, his face broke into a grin. "We've got him now, my friends! This Birlote rope cannot be burned and is immensely strong-stronger than iron. Soon the mysteries of this Hand of Tharnin will be solved!"

As Taris was helped onto his horse, the ever-alert Tower Master mumbled, "Beware of those two priests, who are still lurking nearby."

But the priests never showed themselves.

Chapter 7: Kingdom Under Siege

The company rode quickly for Dremlock, refusing to camp-though they stopped to rest now and then. The weather cleared during the afternoon, the clouds parting to reveal blue sky. As evening fell across the land, a few bright stars were visible, along with the pale moon. They encountered no more ambushes. The demon man remained unconscious and slumped over a saddle, bound securely in the Birlote rope. Lannon kept glancing at him, amazed they had succeeded in defeating him and wondering if the rope could really hold him should he happen to awaken.

At one point, Taris ordered the company to halt so they could discuss the situation. "I had a bit of time to think about this," said Taris, "and it may be in our best interests to try to remove the gauntlet while the demon man is unconscious and sink it deep into a bog somewhere-to be rid of it forever."

"But don't we need to study the device?" said Jace, looking dismayed at Taris' suggestion. "Imagine the secrets we can learn about the Deep Shadow from it. Furthermore, you have an illness that might never be cured unless we unlock the mysteries of this Hand of Tharnin. Your life may depend on it."

"My life means nothing," said Taris, "when all of Dremlock is at stake. I am willing to take my chances with my illness, just to be rid of the device. Of course, it would be very dangerous to try to free the gauntlet on such short notice, without having our blacksmiths study it."

"We could remove the gauntlet safely," said Thrake, his eyes narrowing. "One swipe from my burning axe, and the wound would be sealed instantly. The man would lose an arm-but gain his freedom."

Vorden started to speak, but Taris motioned for him to be silent. "This is for the Knights to decide alone. We will bear this burden."

"If we remove the gauntlet," said Thrake, "we can dispose of it in some deep, secluded place where it will never be seen again. The threat to Dremlock will be ended and the demon man will be free of his curse."

Lannon wanted to voice his opinion-to tell Taris that he couldn't let a chance at a cure escape him. He felt it was unfair that he had no say, considering he'd gone ahead and faced the demon man in combat. But a Tower Master of Dremlock was not to be questioned by a Squire, so Lannon kept quiet.

"Rest assured," said Thrake, "the cut would be swift and painless. It is indeed a grim task, but I'm sure he would feel nothing but gratitude later upon awakening-if in fact his mind has been enslaved by the device as we suspect."

"I hate to bring harm to Vellera," said Taris. "Especially if he is truly an innocent puppet of Tharnin. However, we find ourselves in a perilous situation. I believe we should go ahead and remove the device."

"But the gauntlet is part of him, in a way," said Jace. "To remove it by force might kill him. The sorcery is in his very blood."

"What are the chances," said Thrake, "that he will awaken and escape his bonds? That alone should be the deciding factor."

"My blows caught him off guard," said Jace. "I believe they did significant damage to his ability to remain conscious. I suppose it depends on how fast he is able to heal. But Dremlock hired me as an expert on magical relics, and I'm giving you my expert opinion. This man could very well die if we remove the device by force, leaving us with no chance to question him. It would be a terrible waste of an opportunity-and a waste of an innocent life."

Taris bowed his head in thought. At last he said, "Very well, Jace. I will trust your wisdom in this matter. I too want to see Vellera live. However, if the demon man begins to awaken, can you put him to sleep again?"

"I would have to strike a defenseless man," said Jace, raising his eyebrows "and I'm not very fond of that notion. Not in the least."

"It's either that," said Taris, "or Thrake must do his grim work and remove the gauntlet. We simply cannot risk the demon man breaking free."

"Either choice is barbaric," said Jace. "If I were to strike him too hard, or release too much sorcery, I could cause him to suffer permanent madness-or I might even accidentally kill him. Sadly, I don't have a great deal of control over my attack method. It just doesn't work that way. Besides, Birlote rope is very stout. With his hands bound, he might not even be much of a threat."

"I'm afraid you must choose one of the two options," said Taris. He took a step toward his horse and winced, holding his ribs. "And choose quickly, for I am growing quite weak. I don't like this anymore than you do, Jace. But the demon man could awaken at any moment, and I'm not convinced the Birlote rope can hold him. He is simply too dangerous to be taken lightly."

Jace muttered something under his breath, then said, "I suppose I will watch over him, and if he begins to awaken, I will attempt to carefully send him back to sleep with a tap on the head. But it will be a risky move."

"I don't like it either," said Thrake, looking troubled. "But what choice do we have? If he awakens, he could destroy Dremlock. We were lucky to defeat him once, and we don't yet know the full power of the gauntlet."

"When Dremlock is at stake," said Taris, "we do what we must. Life doesn't always present us with a clear, honorable choice. Sometimes every path is ugly. As old as you are, Jace, you should know this."

Jace swung onto his horse, his face sullen. "I can only hope he doesn't awaken, then," he said, glancing over at Lannon. "I firmly believe Vellera is an innocent victim, and I may already have wounded him beyond repair."

Lannon nodded, but said nothing. His primary concern was helping Taris. He was still appalled at the level of suffering he'd glimpsed within the sorcerer-suffering that would have brought a lesser man to his knees. He understood why Taris' patience seemed worn so thin. He also wondered if Taris was still thinking clearly or if the dark infection that raged within him was affecting his mind.

As they traversed the steep trail and pine slopes of the Firepit Mountains, the wolves were hunting in vast numbers, their howls filling the air. Occasionally they would run across the trail in front of the riders. The Knights ignored them. The white wolves-huge, vicious predators (rumored to be descended from Goblins) with oversized teeth-lived in harmony with the Knights of Dremlock. It had been that way for centuries. Knight did not fear wolf, and wolf did not fear Knight. However, the presence of the demon man seemed to have put the wolves on edge.

When the company reached the gates of Darkender Tunnel, that led through the stone wall that shielded Dremlock from invasion, the guard met them with wild excitement in his eyes. He was a short, stocky Red Knight with a smooth and youthful face, and he looked on the verge of panic.

"Dremlock is under siege!" he cried, addressing Taris. "The North Tower has been taken by Goblins! The High Council is being held hostage! We sent a messenger on horseback. Did…did you meet with him?"

"No," said Taris, grimacing. "He must be dead. Open the gates!"

***

A vast company of Knights was gathered before the North Tower in the moonlight, weapons drawn and torches blazing. Some carried banners displaying the crest of Dremlock. Lannon had never seen anything like it. A feeling of extreme tension hung in the air. It seemed as if all of Dremlock was gathered for battle. Off to one side, a host of archers stood facing the tower.

The sea of Knights encircled the entire fortress. Various siege engines, including huge catapults, stood at the ready-weapons Lannon had never seen before. Elder Hawks-spies of Dremlock-circled above the tower, their shadows passing across the courtyard in the moonlight. And if all that wasn't enough, twelve enormous white wolves-trained servants of Dremlock-were present with their Knightly masters, sniffing at the bushes in the courtyard for hidden dangers.

Shennen Silverarrow, the famed Blue Knight, and Trenton Shadowbane, the Investigator of Dremlock, strode over to the company, their faces tense. Trenton held a Birlote torch, his silver hair neatly combed as usual and his rugged face bathed in the crimson glow of the torch's gem. He seldom smiled and usually looked grim, so his expression really wasn't any different than normal.

"What's going on here?" Taris demanded, his eyes wide. "It seems that half of Dremlock is present! Who ordered this gathering?"

"We have been betrayed," Trenton said coldly. "It was Garrin Daggerblood. He has taken the North Tower, leading a company of Goblins. It seems he was planning the attack for quite some time. He caught the High Council by surprise. Our Lord Knight is among those being held hostage!"

Lannon couldn't believe what he was hearing. He'd never imagined one of the three great towers of Dremlock falling to the Goblins. Panic surged through him. If one tower could fall into enemy hands, perhaps the other two would be taken as well. And what would happen then? He imagined the Knights and Squires being rounded up and enslaved or killed-the fall of legendary Dremlock Kingdom.

"This should never have happened," said Taris. "The North Tower is well defended. What has become of our kingdom to allow this? Garrin must have had other help-more traitors to Dremlock."

"It happened from below," said Trenton, "from the escape tunnels that lead through the mines. It was a very well organized attack. Some type of mind possession was used on the Wheel Masters, and they were forced to open the gates. Any Knights who resisted were slain."

"Mind possession?" said Taris, frowning. "I haven't heard of Tharnin employing that technique for sometime, outside of the slow possession that the Deep Shadow inflicts. The laws must have changed yet again. This does not bode well for the survival of Dremlock, if minds can be controlled in an instant."

"That's all I know," said Trenton. "I learned that from a survivor who escaped into other tunnels. He was missing an arm-torn off by an Ogre."

Thrake Wolfaxe cursed. "Those tunnels below our kingdom will be the doom of us. We should have permanently sealed all of them."

"And left no escape route in case of invasion?" said Trenton, his lip curled into a sneer. "You're none too clever, Red Knight."

"Our escape routes are too well known," said Thrake. "Too many dangers lurk below. Seldom is Dremlock attacked from outside its walls. Lately, all of the attacks come from beneath us."

"We can debate this later," said Taris. "Nothing can be done about it right now. Our first order of business is to take back the North Tower."

"This is unbelievable," said Trenton, "that a high-ranking and respected Knight like Garrin could betray us like this. It wasn't mind control. Garrin gave in to the desires and will of the Deep Shadow. He allowed it to happen!"

"Of course he did," said Jace. "I warned the High Council, but they chose to ignore me. I knew Garrin was a man of weak character-just the type to fall victim to the promises of Tharnin."

"But what does he want?" said Taris.

Trenton pointed at Lannon, his eyes gleaming with what looked like malice. Trenton didn't seem to like Lannon. "He wants this Squire. He told us that if Lannon returns alive, to send him to the North Tower."

"No more duels," said Taris, shaking his head.

"He doesn't want a duel," said Shennen. "He claims he simply wants to meet with Lannon and give him a message. I'm thinking there will be an assassination attempt on the Squire, however."

"Why not storm the tower?" said Thrake, his voice quivering with rage. "With all the Knights gathered here, surely the Goblins would fall quickly. Our Lord Knight would prefer to die in battle rather than be killed as a hostage."

"If we storm the tower," said Trenton, "Garrin has promised to kill the High Council members. As the highest ranked Knight present, I have ordered our fighters to hold off. Of course, I now defer authority to Taris."

"You did well, Trenton," said Taris. "We cannot risk the lives of the High Council members. Lannon shall meet with Garrin alone."

"That's seems like folly," said Thrake, scowling. "Sending the Squire in by himself-into an obvious trap?"

"Yes," Taris mumbled, "but it shall be done."

Trenton glowered at Taris. "I find that to be a rather strange plan, Tower Master. Are you sure you're thinking clearly on this matter?"

Taris glowered back. "Are you questioning my judgment?" He touched his scarred cheek. "You think the Deep Shadow is working its will through me. Is that correct, Investigator?"

"Perhaps," said Trenton. "You bear some kind of infection of dark sorcery. As the Investigator of Dremlock, I could declare you temporarily unfit to command. I find this order very strange indeed!"

"I agree with Taris," said Jace. "We should send Lannon in alone. Except that he will not be alone. Isn't that right, Taris?"

Taris sat stoically for a moment, and then nodded. "There is a spy in the North Tower who likely remains undetected. I can say no more. If things go badly for Lannon, rest assured we will be alerted. Then we will attack."

"Tell me more about this spy," insisted Trenton. "Why was I never informed of this? Is it a Knight, or some type of creature?"

"Only Tower Masters know of this," said Taris. "And Jace too, apparently, though I have no idea how he acquired that knowledge. We have no time to debate this. Lannon, enter the North Tower!"

Trembling, Lannon dismounted. His friends all looked quite unhappy as they gazed down at him from horseback-especially Vorden. Lannon nodded to them reassuringly, but his throat was dry with fear at the thought that, in spite of all these Knights, he was being forced to confront Garrin and his Goblins alone. It seemed utterly pointless. However, the determined look in Taris' eyes told him that arguing would be equally pointless.

Lannon made his way through the gathering of Knights to the keep's front door. The massive North Tower loomed over him in the moonlight, suddenly very sinister in appearance. It seemed like a dark lair of death, where his foes waited to close around him and cut him off from all hope.

Two Knights started forward to help with the huge door, but Lannon motioned them to stay away, fearing for the hostages inside. He tried seizing the door with the Eye of Divinity, but he couldn't seem to connect. Something about the design of the door resisted his efforts. For a moment, his fear of using the Eye overwhelmed him and his power almost failed completely, but he forced himself to regain his focus, remembering what was at stake.

Feeling embarrassed for having refused the Knights' offers to help, Lannon grabbed the door handle with his hands, pulling with all his might. The door wouldn't budge. He channeled the Eye into his muscles in an effort to generate the power necessary for the task. It was a strange way to use the Eye, but slowly the door opened, and Lannon stepped inside.

Dremlock Hall was filled with Goblins-mostly Jackals, but there were two Goblin Lords and an Ogre as well. Chairs and tables were overturned, and Goblins were devouring meat and bread. The Ogre was gnawing on a side of raw beef, his huge teeth crunching through bone. His huge head, with black eyes, lifted when Lannon walked into the room. He stood up and started toward the Squire, the claws from his long, crooked arms dragging on the stone floor.

But the Goblin Lords stepped in front of the Ogre-more Priests of Tharnin carrying dark staffs. They regarded Lannon with what appeared to be amused looks. Lannon was sickened by the sights in Dremlock Hall. The Goblins had gotten into everything, with no regard for the priceless treasures of the North Tower. Ancient paintings of famous Knights had been torn from the walls and damaged. The Sacred Water of Dremlock-water blessed by the Divine Essence and stored in crystal flasks for rituals-had been pulled from shelves on the walls and scattered across the floor. One of the Jackals was lapping some of it up with his long tongue.

The Goblin Lords pointed at the stairs that led up through the tower. "Go to the fifth floor," one of them hissed. "Garrin waits for you there, in his chamber. He will provide you with further instructions."

Lannon started up the stairs, and the priests followed. Lannon probed behind him with the Eye of Divinity, making sure they didn't attack. But he sensed no such intent. They simply plodded along in their soft leather boots up the stone steps, until the trio reached the fifth floor and the Lord Knight's chamber, the entrance to which was a large oaken door at the end of a hall.

Lannon felt a surge of anger that Garrin had decided to make Cordus Landsaver's chamber his own, and it dulled his fear a bit. He probed the door for traps, and finding none, entered the room

Garrin sat on a large bed with a wooden frame carved with Birlote runes. He was smoking a pipe. A flask of wine sat on a stand next to him. The large bedchamber was bathed in lantern light, revealing two statues of Knights that stood on either side of a large, shuttered window, and more paintings.

"Close the door, Lannon," Garrin said. "You have nothing to fear. I'm alone in here and just want to talk to you and offer you some wine."

Lannon did as instructed. Then he walked to the bed and stood before his former master. "Why have you done this, Garrin?"

Garrin smiled and blew out some pipe smoke. "Done what? Claimed this tower as my own? Enslaved the useless High Council? I haven't done anything wrong. The North Tower finally has a real master within it-a powerful and wise master, unlike that useless drunken oaf Cordus. Oh, did you know he has a problem with wine? Yes, he drinks it every day, which is a violation of the Sacred Laws' demand for moderation. By evening he has usually lost his wits. It's an embarrassment to the High Council, yet they do nothing about it. And he's seeing a lady friend who lives farther down the mountain. Your great hero Cordus is one who has no regard for the so-called Sacred Laws. And here you thought he was so perfect."

Lannon's anger boiled over at Garrin's words. "I don't believe you. Why should I trust the words of someone possessed by the Deep Shadow?" But Lannon remembered that Cordus often had bloodshot eyes in the evening and that he frequently journeyed down the mountain on mysterious errands. Considering the immense pressure the Lord Knight was under, Lannon could forgive him for a few lapses in judgment. But Garrin's words couldn't help but tarnish Cordus' image in Lannon's mind.

"But who cares what that fool does?" said Garrin. "He is the worst Lord Knight Dremlock has ever had. I would have killed him already, except I need him alive to keep the Knights-those puppets gathered around my tower-at bay. And I am certainly not possessed by the Deep Shadow. I have chosen to serve Tharnin willingly. Why? Because Tharnin offers me the promise of wealth and power far beyond what this pitiful kingdom can offer. I would never have been made the Lord Knight here, because my color is Blue, and Blue means assassinations. Blue Knights receive a type of scorn that other colors do not suffer. It's unfair. But I've always been a man driven by power. I simply hid it well. The Knights thought they had me right where they wanted me, wandering around that wretched East Tower training fools like you in the arts of stealth and murder, wasting my life. But, as you can see, that was never my destiny. My skills are tremendously useful to Tharnin."

"I still think you're possessed," said Lannon. "You've changed a lot since I first met you. I respected you a great deal once."

"You just want to believe that," said Garrin. "But the truth is, I haven't changed one bit other than to grow more determined to rise above my challenges. I never actually liked you, Lannon. In fact, I hated your miserable hide from the first day I met you. I did my best to sabotage your training, which is why the other Squires have advanced beyond you. Unfortunately, I couldn't make you fail completely. Not with other trainers on hand-and that wretched power you possess."

Garrin's words hurt Lannon deeply, but he didn't let it show. "It doesn't matter anyway. You wanted to see me, so here I am. I defeated the demon man and he is a prisoner. So if you're relying on him, don't bother."

"I don't need him," said Garrin. "He is in league with the Blood Legion-a puppet of theirs. I serve Tharnin directly, under the command of a great master. You know him as Tenneth Bard. I command an army of Goblins!"

"What do you want from me?" Lannon asked. "And if you really serve Tenneth Bard, then what does he want from me?"

Garrin laid his pipe aside and sipped some wine. "I won't speak for my master. But as for what I want-perhaps I just want you to watch while my Jackals tear apart your precious Lord Knight. We've got him in a cell in Dremlock Dungeon. Perhaps I want to reason with you, to persuade you to join with us and use your power for a noble cause."

Lannon shuddered. "Never."

Garrin hurled the wine flask against a painting of Kuran Darkender. The flask shattered, and red wine ran down like blood from the greatest Knight who had ever lived. "You think you're so noble, Lannon Sunshield. It disgusts me. You don't realize how the world has changed, how good and evil are not so easily defined anymore. Your silly notion of a shining kingdom filled with heroic Knights is nothing but an illusion. Those types of heroes do not exist."

"What do you want from me?" Lannon repeated.

"You were trained to cut throats and stab backs," Garrin went on. "Trained for assassin missions. How does that make you feel? How would it feel to creep up on a young warrior from the Blood Legion-a young man like you with concerned parents waiting for news of his welfare-and run your blade across his neck?"

Lannon shook his head. "I won't do that."

"Then you'll never be a Knight!" shouted Garrin. He glared at Lannon, and then smiled. "To be a Knight, you must enjoy killing. I know I did. I've killed many Goblins…and many men. And I enjoyed killing the men more than the Goblins. Men beg to be spared. Goblins do not."

"Either tell me why you've brought me here," said Lannon, "or I'm leaving. I won't stand here and listen to this."

Garrin hurled a book against the wall, knocking a painting down. "You'll do whatever I tell you, or Cordus Landsaver will die in agony. I have only to give a shout and the cruel deed will be done. Is that understood?"

Lannon looked around again. There was no one else in the room. He focused his gaze on Garrin, probing him with the Eye of Divinity.

Garrin's eyes widened. "You wretch of a Squire! You hope to use your vile power on me, because we're alone? I trained you! I shared great secrets with you!" He leapt off the bed and drew his long, curved dagger-his Flayer. "I brought you here so we could talk peacefully-to ask if you would surrender yourself to Tharnin so your precious Lord Knight can be spared. Yet now I see a shadow of menace in your gaze, as if you dare to…to threaten me."

Lannon stepped toward Garrin. "You're not going to kill Master Cordus, or anyone else for that matter. You're the one who'd better surrender." His legs were weak with fear, but he gazed at Garrin sternly. It was clear that Garrin had underestimated Lannon's maturity level and confidence, that he'd never expected Lannon to turn the Eye of Divinity against him.

Garrin's hand trembled as he held the Flayer. "And what if I don't surrender? Will you murder me where I stand?"

"No, but I'll take you prisoner," Lannon said, and he seized Garrin with the Eye, hoping to freeze him motionless. He caught Garrin off guard and pinned his arms to his sides.

Garrin's face burned crimson with fury. His eyes shone with a yellow glint as he fought to break Lannon's hold. Slowly, his hand came up, the curved dagger gleaming in the lantern light.

Lannon realized that he lacked the strength to stop Garrin from stabbing him. Either Garrin possessed some fanatical strength of will or Lannon was still weak from his duel with the demon man. Regardless, the dagger was charged with powerful dark sorcery, a spiteful energy that desired only to shred Lannon's flesh. In moments, it would strike Lannon's heart and the battle would be over.

Reacting on instinct, Lannon unleashed the full power of the Eye upon Garrin, shoving him backwards with vicious force. Garrin struck the wooden window shutters and smashed them into splinters, his scream echoing into the night air. And then he was gone from the fifth-floor window.

Drastically weakened, Lannon collapsed to the floor and lay struggling to catch his breath. Moments later, the sounds of shouts, howls, and clanking weapons came from below. The Divine Knights had chosen to invade.

Lacking the strength for battle, Lannon simply lay there and listened, praying the Knights would dispatch their foes swiftly. Regardless, his mind was haunted by a grim realization.

"I have killed my master," he whispered, groaning.

Chapter 8: The Fate of Timlin Woodmaster

The battle was over quickly. The Knights dispatched the Goblins and freed the High Council with no further loss of life. Some of the Goblins fled below the keep into the mines, but a company of Knights was waiting to put an end to their escape. The Goblins had tried to execute the High Council members, but somehow Cordus Landsaver had broken free of his ropes and slain the would-be executioners. He'd suffered a deep claw wound to the cheek and a broken wrist, but otherwise was unharmed and in good spirits.

That the Goblins had underestimated Cordus was not a surprise, for the Lord Knight of Dremlock possessed many deeply hidden secrets that made him extremely dangerous and difficult to imprison. In his arrogance, Garrin had believed he knew all of Cordus' secrets and that his plan was flawless.

But now Garrin was dead, his broken body sprawled in a bed of flowers beneath the window from which he'd been flung. In the days that followed, Garrin was stripped of his Knighthood yet still given a burial in Dremlock Cemetery in an area reserved from those who had fallen to the charms of the Deep Shadow. The Knights who had died in the tunnels below the North Tower-as well as Zannin Firespear-were given a grand funeral followed by a huge feast. The damaged treasures of the North Tower were repaired, and security was tightened in the mines.

Lannon was deeply troubled over what he'd done, even though it had been an act of self defense. In spite of receiving a new ribbon for his sash and lectures from some of the Knights on how he should be proud, he felt terrible inside. Even Taris, with his deep wisdom, couldn't console Lannon. And Jace-who remained Lannon's closest companion-seemed to dismiss the incident as if it were not worth mentioning, whenever Lannon brought it up.

An equally troubling situation arose when Timlin Woodmaster once again earned the wrath of the Knights-this time for allegedly stealing an ancient, jeweled dagger from the North Tower. The dagger had been torn from a display case by a Goblin, and Timlin had been seen removing it from the Goblin's corpse and concealing it in his tunic. In spite of appearing deeply contrite and apologetic, Timlin had pushed Taris too far. The Tower Master ordered Timlin imprisoned in Dremlock Dungeon until his fate was decided by the High Council. A meeting was scheduled where evidence would be heard concerning Timlin and where a plan concerning the captured demon man would be discussed.

Lannon, Vorden, Jerret, and Aldreya were granted permission by Taris to visit Timlin in the prison below the North Tower. It was a somber affair in the musty, shadowy hall that lay underground. The Dark Knights of Dremlock-Grey Dwarves, mostly-who guarded the mines paced around with the clanking of armor and weapons, their faces grim. The guards moved away from the cell at Lannon's request to give them some privacy.

The four Squires entered Timlin's cell and sat down on a bench. Lannon looked at Timlin and then lowered his gaze. The small Squire was curled up on a dirty cot, his hands wrapped around his bony knees. He looked thoroughly miserable. Lannon couldn't help but pity him.

"You want to know why I did it, right?" said Timlin, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why would little Timlin throw away his chance to be a Knight?"

"Of course we want to know," said Vorden, his face furrowed in concern and anger. "We're friends. We've trained and fought together."

"What you did was dishonorable!" said Aldreya, leaning against the stone wall and looking almost dazed. "I still cannot believe it."

"You shouldn't be surprised," said Timlin. "I'm not honorable at all. I'm a thief, and I should never have come to Dremlock because I can't control myself."

"Timlin, why would you do it?" said Lannon. "Over a silly dagger? Did you think you could sell it somewhere?"

"I didn't think anything," said Timlin, his eyes narrowing. "I just saw it and wanted it, so I took it. I have no idea how I was caught. There was absolutely no one watching me."

"Taris said something about a spy in the North Tower," said Vorden. "It doesn't matter, Timlin. A Knight doesn't steal!"

"I'm not a Knight," said Timlin.

"And you'll never be one now," said Aldreya. "They're going to banish you from Dremlock. I'm certain of it."

"Well, I'm not so certain," said Vorden. He stood up and paced. "Lannon is in control here. The Knights do whatever he tells them."

Lannon shook his head. "I can't do this anymore. You chose your fate, Timlin. The High Council will have the final say." In spite of his pity for Timlin, he was weary of Timlin's total disregard for Dremlock's Sacred Laws.

Timlin sat up, sneering. "Fine words coming from someone who killed Master Garrin! I don't think I can ever forgive you for that!"

Lannon looked away, stung deeply by Timlin's words.

"That's not fair, Timlin," said Vorden. "Lannon had no choice, and he feels terrible about it. I know you loved Garrin like a father and he really seemed to like you as well. But he betrayed everyone, and he got what he deserved. Like it or not, that's the way it is."

Jerret Dragonsbane stood up and leaned against the cell bars, his hands in the pockets of his tunic. His long blond hair hung partially in his eyes. "Timlin, you just keep making trouble. Taris has gone out of his way for you."

"Who cares what you think, Jerret?" said Timlin. "I never liked you."

Jerret smiled. "I don't care what you think, either. And since you've stated your true feelings, then I'll state mine. You're nothing but trouble-to yourself, everyone around you, and this entire kingdom."

Aldreya bowed her head. "Sadly, Jerret speaks true, Timlin."

"If you all hate me," said Timlin, "then why did you come down here? All my life people have hated me, and I've got the scars to prove it. I've never had any real friends and I don't need any now."

His face turning crimson with anger, Vorden seized Timlin's tunic. Vorden was huge compared to the little Squire, muscles rippling down his arms. Timlin shrank back. "Don't you dare say I'm not your friend! I'm the best friend you could ever have, Timlin!"

Timlin nodded, looking startled. "Fine, you're my friend. And Lannon is my friend. But these other two are not. Especially Jerret."

The color fading from his face, Vorden released Timlin. "We're all your friends, even Jerret. And we're going to help save your chance at Knighthood. There is simply no way I'm going to give up on you."

Lannon sighed. "And how will we do that, Vorden? Timlin was seen stealing a sacred dagger, which he doesn't deny."

"It's a very serious situation," said Vorden, smoothing back his neatly trimmed black hair and adjusting his black tunic. "Very serious. But we are not ordinary Squires. Aldreya is Taris' most prized pupil and a member of some Birlote royal house. I am-with no attempt to be vain in saying this-the most talented Squire at Dremlock. And you, Lannon, are the most valuable of anyone at Dremlock. We can get this done and give Timlin one more chance."

For an instant, Timlin's eyes lit up with gratitude. Then he slumped down on the cot and bowed his head. "It won't happen. I'm finished."

"I do regard myself as your friend, Timlin," said Aldreya. "I also respect your amazing skills with the bow. You shoot as well as the best of the Birlotes. I want to help you. But you must promise that you will never break the Sacred Laws again for any reason."

"I can't promise that," said Timlin. "I already told you that I can't control myself. My life is not very enjoyable. The nightmares never let me get a peaceful sleep. And I always feel like I want to punish myself."

"Timlin, what happened to you as a child?" Aldreya said softly.

Timlin's body trembled. He hunkered down further. "I don't know. Different things. Wretched things. I keep trying to forget and move on, but I know I won't let myself. It's like I'm trying to get thrown out of Dremlock."

Lannon rubbed his temples in frustration. "That's what I can't understand. You have a bright future here. You have way more talent than I do. You could do many great deeds and retire as a wealthy Knight. Why can't you just relax and let things happen, instead of ruining everything?"

"I don't know," said Timlin. "It doesn't make any sense. I guess I'm stupid or evil. What else is there to say?"

"You're neither of those things," said Vorden. "You're still just finding your way. In time, you'll learn to behave like a Knight."

"I doubt it," said Timlin. "I have something wrong with my thinking. Nobody understands that or listens to me. The Knights only understand acting like this or acting like that. And I know they speak the truth, in a way. Yet…I don't know. Something just ruins everything I try to do."

"You think about it too much," said Vorden. "I had a rough childhood, but I don't let it bother me. I just do what I need to do."

"That doesn't work for me," said Timlin. "I always do something stupid, no matter how hard I try to avoid it."

"You need to live like a Knight every day," said Aldreya. "Then many good things will come your way."

"What do you know, Aldreya?" said Timlin. "You grew up in some shining Birlote kingdom and had a great life. It's easy for you to live like you were taught. For me, though…" He turned away and wiped his eyes. "I can never explain it, so why try? I want to talk about what happened, but…"

"You should never talk about it," said Vorden, patting him on the shoulder. "You should just block it from your mind and move on."

"I agree," said Aldreya. "Whatever haunts your mind is best forgotten, Timlin. Just let it go and concentrate on the present."

"Bad idea," said Jerret, sitting down on the bench.

Vorden glared at Jerret. "Why is that a bad idea?"

Jerret shrugged. "It just seems like a bad idea for him to forget his past, or he'll be doomed to repeat it or something. I don't know. Maybe I'm not making sense. What do you think, Lannon?"

"I don't know," said Lannon, being truthful. "But I do know that Timlin has a knack for getting in trouble and I just don't see that changing."

"Just go on and forget about me," said Timlin. "All of you."

"I told you that's not going to happen," said Vorden.

"So you can't promise to obey the Sacred Laws, Timlin?" said Lannon.

"I can't promise to obey them," said Timlin. "Sorry."

"Then I'm not going to try to help you," said Lannon. "Honestly, it's not worth it. You have to make your own fate, Timlin."

"It will be a bad fate," Timlin whispered.

Lannon rose, concerned by Timlin's tone and grim expression. "What does that mean?"

"You heard me." Timlin's eyes smoldered. "If you don't believe me, use your Eye of Divinity and look into my soul. See for yourself what's in there. Look deeper than before, deep into my past."

Lannon's eyes widened. "For what purpose?" He was afraid to look too deeply into Timlin's soul. He sensed something terrifying.

"To understand me," said Timlin. "Because I can never tell you, and no one ever listens anyway. If you're my friend, at least do that much. Then you will understand me. I want someone to know what happened. I need someone to know."

Lannon gazed at Timlin, considering Timlin's request. It seemed pointless and frightening. "I've seen the scars on your back. I know it must have been terrible. What does it matter if I know the details? "

"It matters," said Timlin. "I don't know why, except that it's like I'm in a prison of silence or something."

"This is foolish," said Vorden. "You're playing games again, Timlin. You just need to start acting like a Knight."

Aldreya just looked on with pity and uncertainty.

Jerret frowned and scratched his head. "If I had that Eye of Divinity power, I would do it. And I don't even like Timlin."

Lannon hesitated, seeing the intense, hopeful gleam in Timlin's eyes. Slowly, he reached out with the Eye and saw anguish and bitterness-a Squire in constant torment. But that was only the very surface. He probed a bit deeper and heavy gloom washed over him, merged with hopelessness and terror. And still Lannon felt that Timlin's secrets ran much deeper-into a place he feared to look.

Lannon broke contact and turned away. "I don't see the point, Timlin. If you have problems, we can work on them. We can…"

Lannon turned toward Timlin again-to find he'd curled up on the cot and was now facing the wall. And Timlin would not speak again during that encounter.

***

The meeting took place that evening in the North Tower and consisted of the same people as before-with the addition of Trenton Shadowbane, the Investigator of Dremlock, and the absence of the deceased Zannin Firespear. It was another cold spring night and the fireplace was raging. The faces of those gathered at the table were tense. Taris first addressed the condition of Furlus Goblincrusher, revealing that Furlus was recovering steadily after suffering a setback that had nearly taken his life-a vicious infection. But Furlus had managed to fight it off with his strong will and the healing arts of the White Knights, but the West Tower Master was still spending most of his time in bed.

The second issue to be addressed was Vorden's spider sword. Jace had been in possession of the blade for the past two days, and now he laid it on the table for everyone to see. "I have tested it thoroughly," Jace said, "and found that it's not cursed by Tharnin. Rather, this is a Knightly sword-though a very strange one. I couldn't find many references to it in the Dremlock records, but I did find some clues that seem to indicate it may have belonged to one of the Dark Watchmen. I'm still researching that, so I can't yet produce a name."

"It is clearly a very powerful blade," said Taris. "It struck a stout blow to the demon man." Taris' face was shockingly pale, and he seemed to be trembling slightly. The sickness from his facial wound was clearly growing more potent, yet still Taris sat up straight and with an aura of power and dignity. He gazed sternly at Vorden. "And had it failed to strike such an impressive blow, we might not have noticed it, since Vorden never saw fit to mention it."

"I never thought it was evil," said Vorden, his eyes fixed on the sword. "I agree that it's a strange weapon. But it feels right in my hand. I'm sorry for keeping it a secret. That was wrong, and I have learned my lesson."

"It is made of Glaetherin," said Jace, tracing a long finger over the blade. "But molded to an astonishing degree. I've never seen Glaetherin molded or engraved with such detail. Also, there are veins of Birlote crystal that run across its surface creating the spider design. These veins likely contain powerful energy. This sword was designed in similar fashion to the blue stones in the demon man's gauntlet in that some form of energy was bound in Birlote crystal-which is the same crystal used to make Birlote torches and other fine items. However, unlike the demon man's gauntlet, it harbors no demonic intelligence or malice. Anyway, the sword is absolutely magnificent. Aside from being virtually indestructible, it possesses its own sorcery that I'm sure makes it very formidable in combat."

"Can I have it back?' Vorden asked, leaning forward and looking anxious. "I mean, when this meeting is done?"

"Do you deserve it?" said Taris. "You kept it a secret. It could have been a dangerous weapon of Tharnin that ended up possessing you. Give us a good reason why you-a mere Squire-should own such a blade."

"This is actually not a violation of the Sacred Laws," said Trenton Shadowbane, "or even of minor rules. Squires are allowed to carry whatever weapons they prefer. They are not obligated to report carrying a specific weapon unless they feel it might be cursed by Tharnin. So the real question is whether or not Vorden believed it was cursed. Or his fellow Squires, if they knew about it."

"They didn't know," Vorden said quickly. Seeing skeptical looks from the Knights, he added: "What I mean is that I assured them the sword was not cursed and they took my word for it. It just never felt cursed to me. Anyway, if I must turn it over to the High Council, so be it. But considering that my attack broke the demon man's defenses and possibly saved lives, it's clear I've already put it to good use. In light of that, I ask that it be returned to me."

"A bold request," said Krissana, nodding with respect. "You showed heroism and believe you should be rewarded." She fell silent for a moment, then said, "That is good enough to claim my vote. I agree that you should have the sword."

"I disagree strongly," said Cordus. "The Squire should have reported it, rules or not. And that sword is clearly a powerful artifact from Dremlock's history. It should be preserved and put on display for all to see."

"On the contrary," said Taris, "it should be used. Why place such a fantastic blade under glass to be merely gazed upon? With some reluctance, I agree that Vorden should have possession of the sword."

"I agree as well," said Trenton. "The Squire did nothing wrong. And in fact he fought well with the blade."

"Jace," said Cordus, "you're the most knowledgeable among us concerning magical items. What is your opinion on the matter? And what of our own experts? Was the blade tested by the White Knights?"

"The sword should pose no danger to the Squire," said Jace. "It could be used for evil, but it is not evil by nature. It's certainly not any more evil than Lannon's Dragon-bone sword, which possesses dulled and harmless sorcery of Tharnin. In fact, it should react the same way that bone sword reacts-in that will take on the personality of its master, good or evil." Jace chuckled. "It seems the Squires possess two of the most well-crafted and expensive swords at Dremlock."

"Lannon's sword was a gift from Taris," said Cordus. "A rather extravagant gift, yes, but known to the High Council. Vorden simply found his blade by chance and then avoided mentioning the fact."

"Jace is correct, though," said Vesselin Hopebringer, the Lord of the White Knights. "We tested it thoroughly. It contains no trace of dark sorcery."

Cordus frowned. "Very well. We have more pressing matters to concern ourselves with. Vorden, take the sword and use it with honor. Such a blade should only be carried by one worthy of carrying it. You are strictly forbidden to give it away or sell it without consulting with the High Council."

Vorden snatched the spider sword off the table and sheathed it. He bowed and sat back down. "Thank you. And you won't regret it."

"Now," said Cordus, "on to the issue of Timlin Woodmaster. We're all aware of his crime and he does not deny it. We can move straight to deciding on his punishment."

Timlin sat with his head bowed, with his wrists free of irons. He'd been released from the dungeon a few hours before the meeting. The Squires shot each other grim looks, and then Vorden raised his hand.

Cordus sighed. "Speak, Squire."

"I just want to say," said Vorden, "that Timlin is very sorry and he promises never to steal from Dremlock again or break any Sacred Laws."

"Then why are you speaking for him?" said Cordus. "If Timlin is sorry, then let him speak in his own defense. What say you, Timlin?"

Timlin looked up, his eyes red. "I say you might as well toss me out. I am sorry for what I did, but I can't promise it won't happen again."

Trenton Shadowbane scowled. "The lawbreaker has said enough for me. He should be banished from Dremlock immediately!"

Cordus slammed his fist down on the table. "Yes, I've seen enough disrespect from this Squire, talented or not!"

"I do not agree," said Taris. "I believe Timlin has great potential, if we can free his mind of its burdens. I suggest we temporarily strip him of rank and place him with the White Knights, who can work on his mind and perhaps bring healing to him. It is clear to me that he has suffered greatly in life and it is corrupting his behavior. He needs our help."

"Taris speaks wisdom," said Krissana. "Timlin's crime is grim, but not unforgivable. His talent with the bow is unmatched among the Squires-greater even than the young Birlotes. I suggest we send him to the Hall of Healing. And Timlin is one of Lannon's trusted friends."

"We may be able to help the lad," said Vesselin Hopebringer. "If his mind is sick, it can be healed. But it might take time and considerable effort. The question is whether or not such effort is worth it."

"It's worth it," Vorden said. "Tell them it's worth it, Lannon."

"Silence!" Cordus commanded. "I don't want to hear from any Squires right now. Jace, you're not a Knight, but you are a wise man. What do you think?"

"About what?" said Jace, his eyes distant. He seemed to snap back to reality. "Oh, yes, the Squire. Hmm…what to do? Toss him out, I guess. Being a Knight is not for everyone. You have to have strong moral character to begin with. But don't actually toss him out. Send him to the Hall of Healing and give him some help. Get him started on a new way of life." Jace smiled, his eyes twinkling. "Give him a merry bowl of Dremlock's finest rice pudding."

Cordus nodded. "I wholeheartedly agree. We should demote him to the rank of Orange and send him to the care of the White Knights."

Taris nodded. "While I hate to lose his talent, I too can agree with that. My main concern is making sure he receives the healing he needs."

"Agreed," said Krissana.

"Good enough, I suppose," muttered Trenton.

Vorden opened his mouth to speak, but a glare from Cordus caused Vorden to close it again. Vorden sighed in defeat.

"I won't accept that," Timlin said. "Orange is a disgrace. Just banish me instead and get it over with!"

"Timlin, you are no longer a Squire!" Cordus snarled. "Remove your sash at once. If the High Council disagrees, let them speak. We can have a vote."

No one spoke.

Timlin flung the sash aside and rose, his eyes blazing. He held his chin up defiantly. "So now what?"

"Now," said Cordus, "you can either go to the Hall of Healing, or you can leave Dremlock. But either way, you're finished as a Squire."

Vorden groaned and put his head in his hands. Lannon, Jerret, and Aldreya exchanged unhappy glances.

"I'll go to that stupid Hall of Healing!" shouted Timlin. "They will find out they can't cure me. And then maybe I'll stick my dagger in someone's back before all is said and done!"

Cordus' face turned crimson with anger. He pointed toward the door, where two Red Knights stood. "Just get out of Dremlock! You're finished here. You will never set foot in this kingdom again, as long as I'm the Lord Knight!"

Timlin hesitated, then reached into his tunic and pulled out a red candle. He sat the red candle on the table. His eyes gleamed with malice. A gasp arose from the Knights, though the Squires looked confused.

Timlin drew his Flayer, and it smoldered with the fires of sorcery. He held it near the candle. "Look upon this, Lord Knight!"

Cordus face went from crimson to pale.

Taris only bowed his head, a sad look on his face.

"You've left me no choice!" Timlin said. With that, he lit the red candle and said: "I may be banished from Dremlock, but I will be a Knight!"

Cordus' voice lowered to a menacing growl. "And know that if you join with our foes, your blood shall stain this land in the name of the Divine Essence! Now walk until Dremlock is behind you and do not look back. For once you pass beyond these walls, your fate is sealed!"

With a sneer, Timlin turned and strode from the room.

With a shaking hand, Vorden reached for Timlin's candle but Cordus motioned him to leave it be. "Let his candle burn and seer our hearts and minds, so that all may remember that Timlin Woodmaster has betrayed Dremlock. He has made his intentions clear-he is now our sworn enemy."

"He's just being foolish!" Vorden cried. "He'll soon realize it was a mistake. Timlin has a good heart. You have to believe me!"

"We shall take a break," said Cordus. "I need time alone." His head bowed, the Lord Knight left the chamber. Krissana, Thrake, Willan, and Trenton left as well. Taris simply continued to sit quietly, gazing at the table.

Jace lit up a pipe, took a puff, and blew a poorly constructed smoke ring. "Hmm…I've never quite mastered that skill. Anyway, looks like our young friend won't be getting any of Dremlock's rice pudding after all."

Lannon glared at Jace, thinking Jace didn't seem to care about anyone. But Jace merely smiled back at him. Lannon looked away.

They simply sat and waited for Cordus and the others to return.

Jace drummed his fingers on the table. "I do hope we can wrap this up soon. I'm getting rather hungry."

"I'm worried about my friend!" Vorden snarled. "Not food."

"Of course you are, Squire," said Jace, winking at Vorden. "But I, however, am not. I'm too old to worry about people the way you do. People do all kinds of bizarre things, you know. They have and they will, simply because they can."

"You don't look old at all," said Aldreya.

"But I am old," said Jace. "And when you get to be my age, something funny happens. You stop caring so much about what people do and merely accept it as part of life. You actually do care…but you don't take it so personally when people make bad choices. It's hard to explain. But age definitely has its benefits."

"Cordus cares," said Taris, lifting his head. "And quite deeply. He is a very emotional man. Right now he feels betrayed and hurt. In all his years, Cordus had never been presented with a red candle from a Squire. It is a shame that our Lord Knight had to witness a young hopeful turn against Dremlock."

"What will become of Timlin?" said Lannon.

"The Blood Legion may take him in," said Taris. "Timlin will then plot against Dremlock. If it comes to it, we will have to kill him."

"I won't kill him!" Vorden said, his eyes wide. "He's still my friend. And I can't believe that lighting a stupid candle matters so much."

"The red candle is an ancient ritual," said Taris. "Sometimes the red candle is left with a note. Sometimes it is presented to the Lord Knight by a messenger. Regardless, the red candle is symbolic of a Knight's intent to join the Blood Legion."

"But Timlin needs help," said Vorden. "We all agreed on that."

"It doesn't matter now," said Taris. "Timlin has chosen his fate."

"I just need to talk to him alone," said Vorden. "I know I can convince him to abandon this nonsense."

Taris shook his head. "No, Vorden. He is probably lost to us forever. He swore an oath that Dremlock takes very seriously. He must have planned for it…studied it. Rumors will soon spread across Silverland of Timlin's oath, and the Blood Legion may seek him out. Aside from being highly talented, he is also Lannon's friend and knows some of Lannon's secrets. The Blood Legion will at least be interested in questioning him-and they might even accept him as a member."

"Then why didn't we take him prisoner?" said Lannon.

"The Laws allow for him to leave the kingdom," said Taris. "He is granted that one chance to change his ways. But he won't likely change. He will find the Blood Legion, or their Soldiers will find him. I'm certain of it."

***

After the rest of the High Council had returned, Cordus said, "The issue with Timlin Woodmaster is done with. He has chosen his fate and we shall not speak of it again. Now we shall discuss the issue of the demon man."

"Of course," said Jace. "He is once again in the Deep Forge, bound to a table with Birlote rope. He is being administered a powerful sleep potion. At this point, he is quite harmless. But there is still a great danger. His gauntlet-this Hand of Tharnin-is very difficult to remove. If a mistake is made, it will release a blast of fire that can kill anyone who is near it. Also, the gauntlet chooses its master, and it favors men or women of great knowledge. That being the case, I suggest the attempt to remove it be made by someone younger, such as a Squire. But not Lannon. Lannon's power will greatly tempt the gauntlet. Regardless, it will be very dangerous."

"I will do it!" Aldreya said eagerly.

"Let me do it!" said Vorden.

Jerret said nothing, looking a bit sheepish.

Jace considered the requests. "While I admire your courage, Aldreya, you are quite talented in the use of sorcery. That too could draw the gauntlet to you. I would favor Vorden in this case, as his sorcery is probably much weaker."

"What about another Squire altogether?" said Taris. "There are plenty of highly ranked Squires we can choose from."

"But I want to do it," said Vorden.

"Vorden might be a fine choice," said Jace. "He's not old enough to bear much knowledge, yet he's quite large and strong for his age. It will take considerable strength and lock picking ability to remove the gauntlet."

Cordus nodded. "I suppose that makes him almost the perfect choice, then. But Vorden is a very talented fighter. Won't the gauntlet find that appealing?"

"I highly doubt it," Jace said. "I should think it would be far more interested in magical ability than simple combat skills. My guess is that it would find Vorden quite unappealing."

"But that's a mere guess, correct?" said Taris.

"Well, yes," said Jace, looking uncertain for a moment. Then he smiled reassuringly. "Look, my friends, no matter who we pick, there is a danger. If you know of a younger Squire that possesses Vorden's strength and lock picking ability, then we can use him. It matters not."

Cordus shrugged. "Vorden seems to meet the requirements, and he seems to have no fear of the task. I think he will do fine."

"He showed great heroism," said Krissana, "when he attacked the demon man and pierced his defenses. I think he's earned the chance to do this task."

"He doesn't seem to fear the demon man," said Trenton, "whereas most of the Squires I've chatted with seem terrified of him."

"I'm not afraid of him in the slightest," said Vorden.

"Yet some fear is a good thing," said Taris.

"I'll be very careful," said Vorden.

"Very good," said Cordus, sounding impatient. "So is the High Council satisfied that the three issues have been resolved? Vorden shall keep his sword and he shall attempt to remove the demon man's gauntlet. And Timlin Woodmaster is stripped of all rank and forever banished from Dremlock. Does anyone want to vote on these issues, or are we all in agreement?"

The High Council was in unanimous agreement on all three issues.

Chapter 9: The Hand of Tharnin

It was decided that Vorden would be accompanied by Jace, Taris, a highly skilled Olrog blacksmith named Hench Ironfingers, and Lannon, who was instructed to use his Eye of Divinity from a distance to alert Vorden to danger. No one else was allowed inside the stone chamber where the demon man was bound to an iron table. Jace showed Vorden and Hench drawings of the gauntlet's locking mechanism, and they discussed what needed to be done. Finally, Hench provided Vorden with some advanced tools that he'd forged just for the task. Vorden beamed with pride and confidence.

Lannon was still reeling from what had happened to Timlin, but he couldn't help but look with admiration upon Vorden. The lad from the city of Gravendar was becoming an important figure at Dremlock. Lannon was certain that Vorden was going to become one of the greatest Knights ever to serve Dremlock. While Vorden was a bit reckless and didn't mind breaking a few rules, he had a noble, courageous spirit. The Knights seemed to treat him almost as an equal-perhaps due to his size, which had increased significantly since he'd been training at Dremlock, but also because of his unmatched confidence.

The room was small, and Lannon stood in a corner as far away from the demon man as possible. Jace, Taris, and Hench also stood as far back as possible. Thanks to a smoldering furnace, the room was quite hot. The heat was for the demon man's benefit, as he seemed to weaken drastically-to the point of being near death-when deprived of fire. The Knights didn't want to kill him, if possible. Rather, they wanted him free of the gauntlet's possession so they could question him.

Slowly Vorden approached the demon man and knelt beside him. He glanced at the drawings, muttered something too low for the others to hear, and set to work. Lannon reached out with the Eye of Divinity and probed for danger. He saw that the demon man was asleep and the gauntlet was dormant, the magic subdued. The device did not seem to be aware of Vorden's presence.

"What an amazing young Squire," Jace whispered.

"Indeed," Taris whispered back. "The most promising I've seen in ages."

"The boy has a stout heart," whispered Hench.

Sweat dripped from Vorden's face, and he had to keep pausing to wipe it away. "It sure is hot in here," he mumbled more than once. He was trembling from anxiety and excitement, eager to prove himself once again.

"Just take your time," Taris said. "There is no hurry at all."

"It's a very tough lock," said Vorden. "It's almost like it…it tries to elude me. Like it moves or something. Very frustrating."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Maybe it does move."

They waited for nearly a half hour while Vorden worked at the lock. Finally, he groaned in frustration and stood up, stretching his muscles. "I just can't do it. I'm certain the lock is resisting my efforts. As soon as I start making progress, the whole thing changes. It's impossible!"

"You need to keep trying," said Taris.

"Perhaps Lannon can assist you, Vorden," said Jace. "Lannon, use your power to seize the lock and hold it, if possible."

"That could be dangerous," said Taris.

"I doubt it," said Jace, though he seemed a bit uncertain. "It should work well, actually."

Lannon glanced at Taris, and Taris nodded. Lannon reached out with the Eye and probed the lock. He discovered that Vorden was right-the lock was capable of changing shape. Lannon seized the lock and froze it. It squirmed beneath the grasp of his sorcery, but he held on. The entire gauntlet surged to life in a blaze of sorcery, but with the demon man unconscious, it made no move.

Vorden worked at it furiously. "I've got it now!" he said. A loud click arose and the gauntlet shuddered. "That was one section of the lock. Just three more to go and then the gauntlet will be released."

"Don't talk," said Taris. "Just stay focused!"

Vorden was utterly soaked in sweat, and he kept rubbing his face on his arm. He muttered to himself as he worked the tools. "I definitely have it now!" Another loud click arose, and again the gauntlet shuddered. "Just two to go!"

Jace and Taris smiled at each other, and Hench grinned in amazement. Lannon was filled with pride to have Vorden as a friend. Soon the gauntlet would be free and there would be hope for Taris once they learned its secrets.

There was one more loud click, and Vorden turned to grin at them. "Only one more to go, my friends." He started to turn back when yet another loud click arose. The gauntlet split open in a hiss of steam.

"What in Tharnin?" Vorden muttered. "That shouldn't have happened yet." He reached for the gauntlet.

"Don't touch it!" Jace cried.

The gauntlet moved like a living creature with a speed that Vorden couldn't match. In an instant, it had locked itself onto his hand and arm. Vorden gazed at it in disbelief. "No, this can't happen!"

Vorden turned and stared at them, his face pale and his eyes filled with an emotion that he seldom displayed-terror. "Help me!" he yelled. "It's got a hold of me! Do something! Lannon, get it off my arm!"

Lannon tried, but his power was shoved aside.

Jace groaned. "Oh, this is very bad."

As they watched, a shadow seemed to fall over Vorden's face. His eyes shone with a yellow fire. He held up the gauntlet, the two stones glowing blue. The air burned hotter and seemed filled with an aura of crushing power that radiated from the gauntlet.

"Now this is a nice fit for me," Vorden said, his voice a low rumble. He threw back his head and laughed.

Jace flung himself at Vorden and a flash of light erupted from the gauntlet, blinding everyone for several moments. When they could see again, Vorden had fled from the chamber.

"Put Dremlock on full alert!" Taris cried. "Sound the warning!" He took a few staggering steps and then collapsed to the floor.

***

The Knights launched a massive search for Vorden, while blocking all known exits from the kingdom. They even had Lannon searching areas with the Eye of Divinity. But no trace of Vorden was found. The Knights speculated that perhaps Vorden was using the gauntlet's power to conceal himself somehow. Taris Warhawk ended up in the Hall of Healing and was unable to assist with the search, though he was in good spirits in spite of his weakened state.

The kingdom seemed plunged into despair, with grim faces everywhere. Soon everyone knew that one of the most talented Squires at Dremlock had fallen under the spell of the Deep Shadow and, even worse, wielded the Hand of Tharnin. Lannon and his remaining friends were thoroughly miserable, having lost Vorden and Timlin to evil almost at the same time. Lannon blamed himself, wondering what he could have done differently to prevent the ill turn of events.

But with Vorden remaining unfound, life had to go on at Dremlock. Shennen Silverarrow-one of the most trusted and decorated Blue Knights-was added to the Divine Shield to replace Vorden. His addition gave Lannon a badly needed confidence boost, as Shennen's skills at detecting danger were unmatched. Trenton Shadowbane also requested he be assigned to guard Lannon, but he was refused by the High Council. The Investigator of Dremlock was a strange man whom many didn't trust.

One evening, Jerret and Aldreya met with Lannon in his chamber. Jerret brought a pack with him and shoved it under Vorden's bed. "I'm moving in with you," he announced, "by order of Taris Warhawk. I am also to be trained as a Blue Squire henceforth."

"Taris ordered that?" said Lannon. "But why?" Lannon realized he wasn't extremely fond of Jerret. Jerret had been Vorden's friend, and by that connection he had been Lannon's friend. Yet he seemed a bit cowardly and lazy, and he had a tendency to cast an eye on the female members of Dremlock-which was strictly forbidden. Lannon didn't fully trust him.

"I don't know," said Jerret. "I think the Knights believe we're close friends and they want you to have a trusted Squire with you. Or something like that. Who can figure out their minds?"

"Taris is just trying to boost your spirits, Lannon," said Aldreya, who was sitting on Timlin's bed. "He realizes you're suffering over the loss of Vorden and Timlin. It's quite obvious this whole kingdom has been concerned with your comfort. They want to make sure you have trusted friends around you."

Lannon nodded. He wasn't in the mood for talk, his mind still reeling from the recent events. He wanted to be alone.

Jerret patted the bed next to him. "Why don't you sit by me, Aldreya?"

"I'm fine where I am," said Aldreya, her voice cold.

"This mattress is comfortable," said Jerret, winking at her. "That one you're on looks a bit lumpy. Isn't that reason enough to sit by me?"

Aldreya simply gazed at Jerret with a curious look.

Lannon didn't like the sly expression on Jerret's face. "She seems comfortable where she is, Jerret."

"I know," Jerret said, smiling, "but I think she would be more comfortable sitting by me."

Aldreya turned away from Jerret and gazed at Lannon, her face stony. "So how are you feeling?"

"Terrible," said Lannon, grateful for a change of subject. "I still feel responsible for everything that has happened. When Timlin asked me to use the Eye of Divinity to help him, well, I guess I should have helped him. And I was supposed to alert Vorden to danger when he was trying to remove the gauntlet from the demon man, but I lost focus for a moment."

"You can't blame yourself, Lannon," said Aldreya. "Timlin had a dark spirit that was bound to lead him to trouble. And Vorden knew the risks. Take heart in the hope that Vorden can still be saved."

"Except we can't even find him," said Jerret. "Day after day goes by, and no one even catches a glimpse of him. The Knights think he might be in the mines or that he fled the kingdom altogether. I say he's probably hiding in the woods, plotting to kill us or bring about Dremlock's doom. I'm telling you-I'll bet he is in Knightwood somewhere. It's just a feeling I have."

"We've searched Knightwood extensively," said Lannon. "They even brought wolves to seek his scent. I doubt he's hiding in there."

"We still have hope," Aldreya insisted.

"I'm thinking Vorden is beyond hope," said Jerret. "It was just luck that the gauntlet was ever removed from the demon man to begin with. And I hear the demon man is actually a weakling with no combat skills. I think Vorden will be a far more dangerous foe, especially with all of his abilities. It was foolish of Jace to pick someone as skilled as Vorden to try to unlock the gauntlet. That decision could be the doom of Dremlock."

Lannon shrugged. "I don't know. I just have to find a way to save him. I know he would do the same for me at all costs."

Jerret sighed and rubbed his knees. "I'm going to have to be honest here, Lannon. I didn't really want to move in with you and train as a Blue Squire. Vorden had a lot of influence over me, but without him around, I'm just not that interested in being part of all the trouble that you're part of. Does that make sense?"

"Yes, it does," said Lannon. "You would rather be off training with the other Squires and socializing and not risking your life every day by being drawn into my miserable little world."

"Jerret, that's cowardly," said Aldreya, her green eyes flashing with anger. "You came to Dremlock to be a Divine Knight. Now you were asked to be at Lannon's side and give him friendship and support, and you would shun that?"

"Well, yes," said Jerret, shrugging. "If I was allowed to."

"I find that attitude repulsive," said Aldreya.

"Of course you do," said Jerret, glaring at her. "You're a Birlote snob. I've tried hard to…to warm up to you. You're a beautiful girl with a kind heart, yes. But you are also quite clueless."

Aldreya's mouth dropped open. "How dare you insult me?"

"I'm not trying to insult you," said Jerret. "But what happened the other day, when I asked you for a kiss in the trail?"

"I slapped your face, of course," said Aldreya.

"Yes, you slapped my face," said Jerret, looking hurt. "No one was watching, and I just wanted a friendly kiss."

"I should have reported you," said Aldreya.

Jerret rolled his eyes. "Why? Because a man wants a little attention? It figures you would be against that."

Aldreya rose. "Listen here, Jerret, I'm not as clueless as you seem to think. I know the type of attention you want from female Squires. You're just as bad as Timlin in that you seem incapable of acting like a Knight."

Jerret looked genuinely surprised. "You think so?"

"I do," said Aldreya. "You have no manners or respect. Do I speak the truth, Lannon?"

"She speaks the truth," Lannon mumbled, his mind on other topics.

Jerret looked appalled. "You're supposed to side with me on this, Lannon. By the Divine Essence, we're both men!"

"The Sacred Laws are clear," said Lannon. He lay back on the bed, not caring much about the issue between Jerret and Aldreya. He kept thinking of Vorden-how terrified his friend had looked when the gauntlet bound itself to his hand. He couldn't seem to shake the image from his mind.

"I'm sorry, Aldreya," said Jerret. "I'll try to behave more like a Knight." He extended his hand. "Do you accept my apology?"

"It matters not," said Aldreya. "Your actions will determine whether or not you are truly sorry." Yet reluctantly, she took his hand. "However, I accept your apology regardless. This time."

Jerret gazed at her smooth, copper-colored hand. "Thank you, fair lady. You have a beautiful heart." Then he kissed her hand.

Aldreya slapped his face. Then she strode back to Timlin's bed and sat down, her eyes betraying no emotion.

Jerret rubbed his cheek, looking dismayed. "Unbelievable."

Jace strode into the room, closing the door behind him. His huge form seemed to fill up the chamber. The demon man was with him-now dressed in a green robe and looking very small next to Jace. "This is Vellera," said Jace, to Lannon, "whom you've never actually met."

Vellera nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Lannon."

Lannon hesitated, feeling revulsion at the sight of the former demon man. Then Lannon nodded in return. "So is there any news on Vorden?"

"None," said Jace, sighing. "The reason I brought Vellera here is so you can understand that anything Vorden does-anything evil-is by no fault of his own. The gauntlet takes complete control of whoever wears it."

"This is true," Vellera said in a shaky voice. "My sons and I attacked a group of Goblins near our farm. We killed them, and found the gauntlet in their possession. Foolishly, I put my hand in it and my mind was overcome. I fled from my farm and was driven by the desire to do evil. That desire led me to the Blood Legion, who took me in. Together, we formed a plan to kill you, Lannon. I knew what I was doing, but I was powerless to stop it. Rest assured that your friend Vorden cannot control his actions."

Vellera was shaking as he spoke. Tears rolled down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry that happened to you," Lannon said. His revulsion faded and was replaced by sympathy.

"That's a terrible story!" said Aldreya.

"Even though I had no control over my actions," said Vellera, "I blame myself constantly. It may be a long time before I can learn to forgive myself."

Jerret stood up, looking uncomfortable. "I'm going to wander around a bit, stretch my legs."

Jace turned a piercing gaze toward Jerret. "Is everything okay, Squire? You have a troubled aura. Don't forget you are part of Lannon's Divine Shield. And until the Shield is dissolved, you are required to guard him at all times. If you need a break, you must ask a Knight."

Lannon looked away in disgust, knowing Jerret was eager to abandon him. He didn't want Jerret as one of his defenders.

"What about me?" said Aldreya, looking agitated. "I can't very well share a room with these boys. It's not allowed."

"Of course not," said Jace. "You will continue to sleep in your own room at night. But during the day, you should be at Lannon's side. Taris was disappointed to hear that you two have not been fulfilling your oath, which is why he gave the order for Jerret to move into Lannon's room."

Aldreya looked horrified. "But I didn't know I was supposed to be with Lannon all the time. I just didn't think about it. No one told me!"

Jace chuckled. "Well, now you know. To be a Divine Knight, you can't wait for people to tell you everything. You need to ask questions, read books-take action. You can't expect everyone to do everything for you. This is a good lesson for you Squires. Make the most of it, and you will impress the Knights."

"Very well," said Jace. "You can have your food, but don't wander outside the tower-for your own good. No one is guarding you, Squire, and an attempt on your life has already been carried out by an assassin who was never caught. The safest place you can be is by Lannon's side, under heavy guard. But go if you must. And bring me back a bowl of rice pudding."

"I will do better next time," said Aldreya.

"Me too," Jerret mumbled. "So, um, can I have a break? I didn't know I was going to be stuck in this room, and I need to take care of something important. It won't take much time."

"I'm not a Knight," said Jace. "However, I am a member of the Divine Shield who has a bit more freedom than the rest of you, since I am also conducting an investigation that Dremlock's own fine Investigator is ill-equipped to handle." He smiled. "I will take over for you. How long do you expect to be gone, and what is your purpose?"

"Just for an hour or so," said Jerret. "I want to get some food. I didn't eat enough at dinner."

"Certainly," said Jerret, hurrying out of the room.

***

Once Jerret was in the hall, he breathed a sigh of relief. He felt persecuted by Lannon and Aldreya, misunderstood. He thought Aldreya was beautiful, but her heart seemed frozen. Because he couldn't understand Birlotes, he found himself experiencing a growing dislike toward them, but he felt that if he could get Aldreya to shed the icy armor that seemed to cover her from head to toe it might restore his faith in the Tree Dwellers. And Lannon, in spite of his Eye of Divinity, seemed clueless about Jerret's true personality. Jerret was deeply saddened by what had happened to Vorden, but because he was inept at expressing it, Lannon wrote him off as an annoying Squire who only cared about himself.

Shennen and Willan stood guard. Blue Knights always struck fear in Jerret's heart. He knew they were assassins who could kill in the blink of an eye, striking unseen from the shadows. They usually wore blue or black outfits, with only a bit of lightweight armor, so they could sneak around and hide themselves more easily. Jerret hated the East Tower because it was filled with Blue Knights and Birlote sorcerers. It seemed like one huge death trap.

But something even more disturbing nagged at him. He could hear whispers, which he immediately realized were only in his mind. The whispers were so faint he couldn't tell if it was a male or female voice or what any of the words were. He wondered if the strain he'd been under recently, and the constant fear, was getting the best of him. That was the troubled aura Jace had noticed.

"I'm off to get some food," Jerret told the guards. "Is that okay?"

Willan said nothing, but Shennen approached him and looked him up and down. "You will be subject to a search when you return."

"A search?" Jerret said in disbelief. "Who ordered that?"

"I have ordered it," said Shennen. His eyes narrowed in annoyance. "I am the highest ranking Blue Knight in Dremlock right now, and with Taris at the Hall of Healing, I am the Master of this Tower. Is that understood, young Squire?"

"Yes, perfectly," said Jerret. "I just want some food."

Shennen stood motionless for a moment, a shadow in the hall, while Jerret fidgeted nervously. At last Shennen said, "Willan, you will accompany Jerret to the Dining Hall."

"Of course, Master Shennen," said Willan.

"It's not really necessary," said Jerret, chills creeping over his flesh at the thought of a Blue Knight walking beside him. "I'm just going straight there to eat, and then coming straight back."

Shennen said nothing.

"So…is it okay if I go alone?" Jerret asked.

Shennen stood as still as a statue.

Fearing he was pushing the Blue Knight too far, Jerret hurried to the stairs. He was about halfway down them when he realized that Willan was behind him, moving silently down the stone steps. Jerret cringed and kept moving.

The Dining Hall was empty save for a chunky, bald-headed Orange Squire named Breld Shieldbreaker who, in spite of his heroic Knightly last name, was doomed to spend his days at Dremlock making sure everyone was well fed. And Breld never seemed to get over the fact that he would never be a Knight. He complained endlessly about how he at least deserved the rank of Brown.

"Greetings," he said to Jerret and the Blue Knight, as he was prying open a crate. "Is there anything I can help you fellows with?"

"Some leftovers from dinner," said Jerret. "And a bowl of rice pudding."

"I'm all out of rice pudding," said Breld. "I've got stew, but it's cold. I can heat you some if you'd like. And what about you, Willan?"

"I'm not hungry," said Willan. "But I'll have a mug of ale."

"A bowl of stew and a mug of ale-coming right up," said Breld. Whistling a merry tune, he disappeared into the kitchen.

The whispers grew more frantic in Jerret's mind-a voice commanding him to flee the tower. He slumped against the wall, clutching his head and struggling to fight off the whispers. And he was winning the fight. The whispers couldn't claim him from a distance if he resisted. He knew the voice of the Deep Shadow could only claim someone if they allowed it. He'd been taught that by his parents long before coming to Dremlock. But who was trying to get into his head and why?

Willan seized his tunic. "What troubles you?"

"Nothing," Jerret said, afraid to admit the truth (that in all likelihood Tharnin was trying to recruit him). "Just a bad headache."

Jerret nearly had banished the whispers, when he heard Vorden's voice in his thoughts. It was begging him to give in and listen. Jerret hesitated, thinking it was a trick. But Vorden sounded so terrified and helpless that Jerret felt he had to act. He lowered his guard and let the voice take control

An evil laugh filled Jerret's mind. Suddenly, Jerret didn't care about anything except obeying his master. Vorden's voice became a sinister, inhuman-sounding hiss that could never be refused-as if a serpent was close to his ear. It commanded him to strike a blow to Willan.

Willan leaned closer. "I think we should-"

Jerret drove his fist into Willan's head, a perfect blow that knocked the Blue Knight unconscious. It was such a swift and sudden move that even the alert Blue Knight never caught a glimpse of it. He dropped like a stone.

Jerret felt like some force had moved his hand. He gazed down in amazement at Willan's unconscious form. But Vorden's voice insisted he flee the tower, and so Jerret had no time to contemplate what he'd done.

He fled from the Dining Hall, while Vorden's voice warned him that an invisible spy was watching him and he needed to flee with all the speed he possessed. Jerret was athletic and fast to begin with, but some powerful force enhanced his speed as he raced from the tower and into the woods. Moments later, he heard the Divine Alarm sound-a series of horns that blew out from the towers and along the wall that partially encircled the kingdom.

Jerret was astonished at how quickly his crime had been reported. But he also knew it would take sometime for the Knights to organize a search and then carry it out. As he stumbled between the massive Knightwood trees, where the shadows of evening hung thick, Vorden's voice drove him onward.

At last he came to the bank of a small stream. A stone statue of some ancient, heavily armored Knight stood on the opposite bank, covered in moss. This was a spot Jerret was familiar with, as he'd come here to fish during the brief periods of rest between training sessions.

Vorden stepped out from behind the statue. Although the woods were shadowy, with a few bright stars burning in the evening sky, the blue stones in Vorden's gauntlet cast the area in a pale glow. Vorden's eyes gleamed yellow. He grinned at Jerret. "Glad you could make it, my friend."

"Yes, Master Vorden," said Jerret, wanting only to serve.

Vorden frowned. "Enough of that."

The voice departed from Jerret's mind, and he was free. Terror surged through him, and he considered fleeing-but Vorden's stern gaze warned him against it. Instead, he stood trembling, wondering why he'd been summoned.

"Since Dremlock is searching for you," said Vorden, "we don't have a lot of time to talk. So I'll get right to the point. I'm going to be leaving Dremlock this very night. I will be heading far north, to the very edge of Silverland. There, in the frozen peaks of the Bonefrost Mountains, I will join with the Blood Legion in the fortress called Dorok's Hand. So you will tell the Knights that if they want me, I'll be waiting there with an army of Legion Soldiers. If Dremlock doesn't come to me, I will return and I will invade. Do you understand?"

Jerret nodded, relief flooding through him at the thought that Vorden only wanted him to deliver a message.

"After you give my message," said Vorden, "why don't you ride north? You could fight by my side. The Blood Legion does not turn away good fighters-even lazy and undisciplined ones like you."

"I'll consider it," said Jerret.

Vorden smiled. "You'll consider it, huh? You'll do whatever is best for you, Jerret. Like you always do."

Jerret's gaze was fixed on the gauntlet-the glowing blue stones that seemed to draw him in. He desperately wanted this meeting to end, but he sensed Vorden wasn't done with him. Vorden had delivered his message, but he wanted to play games. And games could lead to Jerret's death.

Vorden held up his gauntlet. "You like this? Apparently, since you can't take your eyes off it. I've never possessed power like I do now. I feel invincible-like I could tear this kingdom to the ground. Do you envy me, Jerret?"

"Yes, very much," Jerret lied, hoping he was saying what Vorden wanted to hear. He was certain that Vorden could easily change his mind about using Jerret as a messenger and simply kill him.

"You are a liar," said Vorden. "You think I'm hopelessly possessed, my mind overcome by the demon. Yes, I am possessed, but I'm also the same person I always was. I know perfectly well what I'm doing. I have just been shown a new way-a better way. I embrace it willingly. I was a fool to want to be some heroic Knight battling the forces of Tharnin. I now realize this world is ugly and evil compared to the world of Tharnin. Now I am truly a Divine Knight!"

Jerret said nothing, fearing that any words at this point would work against him. He found he couldn't look Vorden in the eye, for the evil there was too terrible. Vorden was overflowing with dark sorcery.

"You fear I will kill you," said Vorden. "But that's not my goal. Yes, you are a pathetic excuse for a friend, but you are still my friend-until you betray me. Lannon and Timlin are my friends as well."

"What about Aldreya?" said Jerret.

Vorden hissed, and Jerret shrank back. "No Birlote is a friend of mine, least of all a member of the royal house! The Tree Dwellers are the enemy of Tharnin and all that is sacred. Do not speak her name again."

"Sorry," Jerret said. "I promise I won't."

Vorden sneered. "You're a wretched coward. You just do whatever I tell you. You can't stand up to me or think for yourself."

Jerret nodded. "I'm afraid."

"Of course you are," said Vorden. "You're trapped in a kingdom full of misguided fools. Lannon bears a great power, but he wastes it in the service of some filthy beast lurking below Dremlock that some call a god. You should be afraid. I was afraid too, though I hid it well. Not anymore. I fear nothing! I have a clear purpose, a grand purpose-to bring justice and peace to this world. Now I want an honest answer. If you lie to me, I will kill you. When you have delivered your message, will you ride north and join us in our cause?"

Jerret hesitated, certain that a wrong answer would mean his death. So he simply didn't answer.

With a scowl of rage, Vorden reached out with the gauntlet and seized Jerret's throat, the metal fingers locking down tightly and partially cutting off his air. "I will crush your throat! Now give me an answer!"

Jerret squirmed under the iron grasp, struggling to breathe. The grip loosened a bit so he could talk. His fear gave way to sudden anger. "The answer is no. I'll never betray Dremlock or join the Blood Legion. Yes, I'll come north. You bet I will! I'll be riding with the Divine Knights into battle!"

Jerret couldn't believe what he'd just said. He was astounded at his own courage. He believed he was about to die for his words.

Vorden's eyes widened, and then he nodded. He shoved Jerret to the ground. "Bold words. Honest words. I like that. Give the Knights my message, and then get out of Dremlock. I don't want to have to kill you."

Still overcome by anger, Jerret said, "I came here to be a Knight. And I'm going to be a Knight, if I can help it. So save your words, Vorden!"

Vorden raised his gauntlet, and the air grew so hot Jerret had to shield his face. "I guess I will kill you after all!" Vorden bellowed. Flames rose up around him as the gauntlet descended toward Jerret.

Jerret cried out in dismay, but the Hand of Tharnin paused in its descent. Vorden threw back his head and laughed. "Just kidding, my friend. But I'm deadly serious when I tell you to flee Dremlock. Tell Lannon to do the same. The end of the Divine Knights is coming soon. I hope not to see you again, unless you've chosen to fight by my side. And I wish you luck, as weak and lazy as you are!"

"I wish you luck as well," Jerret said. "I hope you can free yourself and come back here. I hope you can still be a Divine Knight."

"I have already freed myself," said Vorden, smiling. "Actually, the Hand of Tharnin has freed me. At last, my heavy burdens are lifted. Maybe you'll come to understand what I mean. Eventually." With that, Vorden turned and strode off amongst the trees.

"Don't count on it," Jerret muttered. He rose to his feet, and drew his sword. The gleaming blade caught the starlight from above the river. Jerret was shaking with rage, and he continued muttering aloud to himself. "I'm not the coward I thought I was, Vorden. The Knights were right when they recruited me as a Squire. You should have killed me. In fact, Tharnin will come to regret that my life was spared, and so will you!"

Chapter 10: The Dark Mothers

When Jerret delivered Vorden's message to the Knights, another meeting was immediately called in Dremlock Hall, with the same members present as before (with the addition of Furlus Goblincrusher and the absence of Taris Warhawk, who was still too sick to get out of bed). Furlus entered the chamber slowly, leaning heavily on a cane, but he seemed in good spirits. Willan Shadowwalker displayed a black eye from Jerret's blow, his face bearing a sullen expression in the torchlight. Cordus Landsaver seemed upbeat and determined, but his eyes were bloodshot and he smelled strongly of wine. A jug sat on the floor beside the Lord Knight.

Lannon was pleased to see Furlus up and walking again, cane or not. However, he was concerned with Cordus, remembering Garrin's insistence that Cordus was drinking too much. It was clear there had been some truth to Garrin's words. Lannon had simply never noticed it until Garrin had pointed it out.

"We have confirmed," Cordus began, "that Vorden has escaped into the mines through a forgotten shaft in the mountain. The shaft was sealed with bars of Glaetherin, but our foes tunneled around them at some point. It is my opinion that we should send a search party down there to find him."

Furlus scowled. The Grey Dwarf looked like he'd aged a year or two since his ordeal, but his body still retained its huge, muscular bulk. "Vorden will be long departed by then. Everyone knows the mines lead out of Dremlock in spite of our efforts to seal all the exits."

"Yes," said Cordus, "but Vorden may simply choose to hide down there and then ambush us later. His message to Jerret about journeying north to the Bonefrost Mountains could have been a lie."

"I agree," said Krissana Windsword. "The battle for Dremlock always takes place in the mines. We seal them off, yet more tunnels are dug. It's an endless war. There is no reason to assume Vorden won't plan an attack from below."

"Jace, what is your opinion?" asked Cordus.

Trenton Shadowbane scowled. "What about my opinion? I am the Investigator of Dremlock, not Jace. Jace isn't even a Knight. I'm not sure why you value his opinion so highly, Lord Knight. Perhaps…you've consumed a bit too much wine."

Cordus glared at Trenton. "I can handle a bit of wine, Investigator. That is none of your concern." He softened his expression. "Yes, I value Jace's opinion. He is an expert on the ways of Tharnin. And so are you, Trenton. Your skills are invaluable to Dremlock. Thus, I seek the opinions that both of you hold."

"My opinion," said Trenton, "is that we should launch an immediate search of the mines. Make no mistake, Vorden will be lurking down there."

"I disagree," said Jace. "I think Vorden meant what he said-that he wants us to ride north. I think he intends to stain the snows in Knightly blood. The Blood Legion would love to battle Dremlock in their territory, where they would have the advantage of knowing the terrain. And with Vorden on their side, they would feel confident they could score a great victory. It makes perfect sense to me."

"May I speak?" said Willan.

Cordus nodded. "Speak freely, Blue Knight."

"I want to apologize for my failure," said Willan. "I allowed Jerret to catch me by surprise. I am very disappointed in myself."

"It was all my fault, actually," Jerret said, sighing.

"No," said Willan. "You were under Vorden's control, Jerret. I take full responsibility. I am deeply ashamed."

"And you should be ashamed," said Shennen Silverarrow. "That should never have happened-a mere Squire rendering a fully trained Blue Knight unconscious. What an embarrassment! You lowered your guard like a fool. However, I'm not going to strip you of rank, Willan, considering what you've been through recently. I expect you to do far better from this point on."

Willan nodded, his face gloomy. "I will not disappoint you again, Master Shennen."

Cordus smiled. "You are wise and lenient, Shennen. Now that you are Lord of the Blue Knights, I am certain you will end up on the High Council with us. I know you have my vote, at least."

Shennen bowed. "Thank you, Master Cordus, for the kind words."

"I would second that vote," said Furlus, winking.

"I need a sip of water," Cordus mumbled, and he drank deeply from the jug. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. The smell of wine was strong in the air. Krissana and Trenton exchanged an embarrassed glance. Furlus lowered his gaze.

Jace smiled. "So I assume a search party is headed into the mines. Very well. That's Knightly business, of course. But I would like to discuss my status. My investigation was successful and the gauntlet was removed from the farmer Vellera. I have done what I was paid to do. Unless there is any further need of my skills, I will move on and seek employment elsewhere."

Cordus frowned. "Yet the gauntlet remains with our foes, on the hand of a valuable Squire no less."

"True," said Jace, "but you understand how to remove it now. Your blacksmith, Hench Ironfingers, knows everything I know."

"You are part of Lannon's Divine Shield," said Cordus. "You swore an oath to protect him when you accepted that duty. Are you planning to break that oath?"

"Of course not," said Jace. "That is why I would first ask to be set free of the oath and for someone else to replace me. Unless…"

"Unless we pay you," said Cordus. "You want to be compensated for protecting Lannon or be released from the obligation."

Jace shrugged. "I have to earn a living, Lord Knight. I will be willing to guard Lannon and use all the skills I possess to protect him, but I must be paid for it at the current rate. My services are seldom free. Are the Knights of Dremlock not being compensated for their services too?"

Cordus nodded. "Does anyone object to Jace being paid to remain a member of the Divine Shield?"

"I object," said Trenton. "And I have a note from Barlow Whitesword stating his objection as well. As everyone knows, Barlow is still in seclusion at the Hall of Healing for reasons we will not discuss in front of those who are not members of the High Council. But, yes, he sent along a note."

"Wonderful," Cordus muttered. "Of all the things he could have chosen to send a note about, he chooses this topic. His note will be added to the Records. However, he must vote in person or his vote doesn't count."

"Barlow is aware of the rule," said Trenton. "He just wanted to voice his objection. He is a very wise man."

"Do we need a vote?" said Cordus. "Or are we all in agreement? Trenton?"

"So we can't protect Lannon ourselves?" said Trenton. "We need an outsider to come in and do it for us? What does that say about Dremlock, when we have to rely on a failed Knight to guard one of our Squires?"

"I vote that we pay Jace," said Cordus, taking another drink from his jug. "Jace is a good man, a wise man, and Lannon is safer with him around."

"That is my vote as well," said Furlus. "Though Jace carries no weapon, he is a stout warrior. There is no harm in having another guard."

"Jace has proven himself worthy," said Krissana. "We have no issues with hiring Rangers to fight for us when needed. So why not hire a man of Jace's skill and knowledge?"

"I can see that I have lost this debate," said Trenton. "With some of the High Council absent, I don't feel the vote is fair. But very well. Let the record show that I oppose the decision to hire Jace for guard duty on the grounds that it makes us look foolish in that legendary Dremlock Kingdom is unable to protect a Squire with its own Divine Knights!"

"I'm not trying to steal your job, Trenton," said Jace, smiling. "I'm just here to earn money and enjoy the fine food. And maybe seek a bit of adventure. You will still be the Investigator after I have departed."

Trenton glared at him. "You think I'm jealous of you? Ha!"

"Meldan," said Cordus, addressing an Orange Squire who was recording the meeting, "make sure Trenton's protest is carefully noted."

"Thank you," muttered Trenton.

"Moving back to the more important topic," said Cordus, "I think the search party should consist of Lannon, his Divine Shield, and three Dark Knights who are familiar with the mines. Does the High Council find this acceptable?"

"I object to the idea," said Trenton. "Why send Lannon down there? He is too valuable to be put in danger needlessly. We can search the mines without him. The Eye of Divinity is not the only power we possess."

"Yet the Eye is a great asset," said Cordus, "when searching for someone. Also, Lannon's sorcery offers some protection against that gauntlet. I don't want to put Lannon's life at risk, but I don't want some of my best Knights to be slain, either. We recruited Lannon for missions like this one, and we're going to use him if I have my say. He has learned quickly, and he is well trained."

Trenton nodded. "I suppose I can agree with that. We must be careful, though. We are not likely to find another Squire who has use of the Eye, which means Lannon is irreplaceable. I believe the High Council has been reckless with this boy-sending him off to face the demon man in a duel and then sending him alone into the North Tower when it was crawling with Goblins. Foolish!"

"I agree," said Cordus, "that sending Lannon into the North Tower alone to face Garrin the Traitor was a bad decision. It was Taris' choice and I'm sure he had his reasons. But this journey into the mines is nothing extraordinary and a perfectly valid reason to make use of Lannon's power."

"And I am making another request to join this Divine Shield," said Trenton, "or at least be allowed to accompany the search party. I am the Investigator, and this is an investigation of the mines. I am weary of being restricted!"

Cordus frowned. "Yet you handle the investigations above ground, here in the kingdom. If you go below, who will take over for you?"

"Kline Skyhammer," said Trenton. "He is the Enforcer of Dremlock and supposed to conduct investigations in my absence."

"Of course," said Cordus, stroking his unkempt beard thoughtfully. "Well, I'm sure Kline is up to the task. Shall we vote on this?"

"I must object yet again!" snarled Trenton. "I know I will lose the vote, as I did previously when I asked to join the Divine Shield. So I'm opting not to ask for that. Instead, I believe it is my sworn duty to investigate the mines. I know the High Council doesn't trust me. Ever since I unlocked my…special ability I have been treated differently, treated like some slave of Tharnin. It's not fair!"

"It's not that we don't trust you, Trenton," said Furlus.

"Is that so?" said Trenton. "Well, then what is it?"

Furlus scratched his head and hesitated. Finally, he said, "The situation with Lannon is delicate. Those who surround him have been examined very carefully. Their ways are known and trusted."

"You trust an outsider like Jace over me?" said Trenton, his eyes wide. "Jace, who was expelled from the order for dabbling into forbidden sorcery, which he uses quite freely now with those oversized hands? Jace could be an assassin sent to kill Lannon, for all we know."

"That's ridiculous," muttered Jace.

"Yet entirely possible," said Trenton. "And here I am-a member of the High Council and an Investigator who has weeded out many traitors at Dremlock, and Jace is more trusted than I am? That is folly!"

"I would trust Jace with my life," said Cordus, "though I'm not going to go into detail as to why that is so. Just accept what I say."

"Yet you wouldn't trust me with your life?" said Trenton. "This is very shoddy treatment of a respected and loyal Green Knight. Therefore, I am insisting I accompany the party into the mines as part of my sworn duty. You can vote the decision down, but I will call for a Reading of the Sacred Laws."

Cordus sighed. "A Reading will not be necessary and is not what Dremlock needs right now in our time of great troubles. We need unity. Therefore, do what you must, Trenton. You're a good man and a good Investigator."

Lannon didn't like the notion of going down into the gloomy, Goblin-infested mines below Dremlock. In fact, that was always the last place he wanted to go. But he could see the Knights were going to go through with it. And Lannon was certain that Trenton secretly hated him. He could see it in the Investigator's malicious gaze. Trenton seemed like a cold-hearted man who nobody liked, at best, and at worst he was possibly aligned with the Deep Shadow and the Blood Legion.

***

The search party set out that very night, entering a mineshaft in the mountain. The torchlight revealed rusted mining gear and wooden splinters from barrels and crates along a tunnel that sloped downward into the earth. Lannon found himself missing Vorden and Timlin, whom he'd lived with and trained with the entire time he'd been at Dremlock. He felt alone in spite of the crowd that surrounded him-alone and gloomy. The mines were infested with the evil aura of the Deep Shadow and the stench of Goblins, stirring dark feelings. Lannon probed the shadows with the Eye of Divinity, trying to ignore the bizarre knowledge that was revealed to him from ages past-as some hidden truths were better left buried.

Shennen stayed by Lannon's side, while Thrake and Willan scouted ahead for danger. Jace also flanked Lannon. Trenton, who was accompanied by two white wolves, was next, followed by Jerret and Aldreya. The three Dark Knights guarded the rear. It was a small yet formidable group, typical of the way Dremlock operated. Each member had their own unique skills and could contribute something. Yet Lannon also found himself missing Taris' wise, confident presence. In no way was Trenton Shadowbane a comforting replacement. Lannon had never actually seen Trenton fight, but the Investigator was slightly below average in size for a Knight, and his weapon of choice was a slender sword.

"This tunnel looks barely used," said Shennen. "Aside from Vorden's obvious tracks in the dust, it looks like no one has passed this way in a long time. The detour around the bars must have been dug years ago."

Using the Eye, Lannon was able to confirm Shennen's observation. "This tunnel has been neglected for decades, Master Shennen."

"That's rather strange," said Jace. "You would think our foes wouldn't neglect a perfectly good route into Dremlock."

"The presence of the Deep Shadow is exceptionally strong here," said Shennen. "And the stench of Goblins is overwhelming. Yet there is no sign of Goblin activity. I suspect this might be some sort of trap or ambush."

"How could it be a trap," said Jace, "if there is no sign of activity? You said yourself that it looks as if the tunnel has been abandoned."

"I don't understand it," said Shennen, shrugging.

Lannon reached out with the Eye as deep into the tunnel as he could go, but he couldn't see any dangers. He reported his findings.

"I suppose we can go a bit farther," said Shennen, "in light of that news. I trust the Eye of Divinity over my instincts."

"I say we continue on," said Jace. "Lannon can keep checking the tunnel. With the Eye of Divinity on our side, we shouldn't fall into any trap."

"It is my decision," said Trenton. When everyone kept moving, he snarled, "Halt! I am still pondering the situation!"

The company halted, while Trenton stood silently in the torchlight flanked by his wolves. With his silver hair, lean body, and dark eyes, he looked almost wolf-like himself. At last he said, "I guess we will proceed with caution."

"Thank you, Master Trenton," said Shennen, sounding slightly sarcastic. "We shall do our best to stay alert."

Trenton seized Lannon's shoulder, causing the Squire to shudder at the Investigator's icy touch. "You just keep searching for danger, lad," said Trenton. "Death lurks in this tunnel. Make no mistake."

"Okay," Lannon mumbled, chills creeping along his spine. He didn't like Trenton following so closely behind him, especially when all of Lannon's focus was directed ahead.

The tunnel began to narrow to the point where they could barely fit through. Jace, the largest of the bunch, had to practically crawl. Armor scraped on stone, and there were occasional muttered curses whenever an elbow or a knee banged against rock. As a Blue Squire, Lannon wore lightweight, leather armor which didn't hinder his movements. He slid easily and silently along the tunnel. Jerret, however, shuffled along clumsily in his chain mail-almost carelessly. It annoyed Lannon that Jerret was so poorly trained, and equipped, for stealth.

"This tunnel was carved for Dwarves and not giants, obviously," said Jace. "Must have wanted to keep Ogres out or something."

Lannon caught a glimpse of danger ahead-a serpent-like root that was lying in wait to snare someone. He cried out a warning, but he was a moment too late. He heard Thrake bellow a curse.

"It has seized Shennen!" Thrake growled. "Looks like a nasty tree root. It has wrapped itself around his mouth so he can't speak!"

"It must be from a Dark Mother!" Jace called back. "Hack through it before it chokes the life from him!"

"I can't find him!" Thrake said, panic in his voice. "The tunnel has given way to a huge cavern!"

The party surged forward into the cavern, waving torches around. Lannon sensed terrible danger in there and yelled several warnings that went unheeded. The Knights were too intent on saving Shennen.

Black, warty-looking tree roots closed in around them, completely blocking off the tunnel mouth. Bloated Mother Trees filled the cavern, rooted deep into the stone-the reason why the mineshaft had been abandoned. The Dark Mothers had taken over, a menace to every life form except young, nursing Goblins.

The roots moved with terrible speed, winding around the Knights and Squires with a crushing grasp. Jerret-who was not exceptionally strong for a Squire and who possessed very little sorcery-took immediate damage, screaming in pain as some of his ribs cracked beneath the pressure. The others managed to resist by means of muscle or sorcery but were still immobilized.

Lannon was weak from prolonged use of the Eye, and could barely manage to hold the roots in place that were trying to crush him. Aldreya's eyes were closed as she focused on protecting herself. Jace tore his roots free and nearly broke loose, before they closed around him again. The others were wound up tight and struggling just to stay alive. The two white wolves had held back from entering the cavern, and they stood inside the narrow tunnel, whining and pacing. The three Dark Knights had also been cut off, and they hacked at the roots-but their weapons did little damage and the roots kept shifting into new positions.

"Lannon, get yourself free and go get help!" Jace grunted.

Lannon struggled fiercely, but couldn't summon the strength to escape. "I'm too exhausted. It's not going to happen."

"These are very ancient trees," said Jace, wearily. "Difficult to kill.

Thrake bellowed and shook with rage, but to no avail. The roots were too strong even for the massive Red Knight to escape.

They heard Shennen groan somewhere beyond the torchlight. "I'm alive," he called out a moment later. "The trees cannot crush us easily, but will instead seek to wear us down and weaken us. Do not give up the fight!"

"I think my ribs are broken!" Jerret called out. "The only thing saving me is my armor!"

"Focus your mind, Jerret," Shennen said. "Use it to shield your body."

"I'm not trained at that very well," said Jerret. "But I'll try."

Once again, Jace tore himself loose and dove for the passageway, but the roots were too fast, winding around him and lifting him off the floor. "Well isn't this wonderful," the giant muttered, panting from the strain. "If I didn't know any better, I'd think they have no intention of letting us go."

"We're hopelessly snared!" Thrake said bitterly. "We can't use our weapons. We've blundered into the worst trap possible."

The trees began to shift around, dragging the captives with them in an effort to separate them. Jace, Shennen, and Thrake were pulled far off into the darkness, their voices growing a bit fainter. The others were pulled deeper into the cavern in another direction-into a thick maze of warty, writhing trees. At last, the movement ceased, but the attempt to crush them continued.

"I'm getting tired," said Trenton, in a muffled voice, his face half covered by a root. "But I might be able to free myself…if left with no choice." He still held a torch in one hand, and in its light, his face looked ghastly pale.

"We don't have many options," Lannon said, wondering how Trenton could possibly break free. "So if there's something you can do…"

"My sorcery is weakening," said Aldreya, her face tense from the strain.

"Do something, Trenton!" Jerret moaned. "My ribs are caving in!"

Trenton sighed. "It seems I must. The trees will never let us go. They will crush us and devour us so that we become milk for young Goblins."

Lannon's power slipped, and the root squeezed him more tightly. "Trenton! I'm losing ground here!"

"Very well," Trenton muttered. "But you Squires must swear an oath never to reveal what you're about to see. I'm very serious about this. If you break that oath, you will pay a grim price."

The Squires swore not to reveal it.

"It is done, then," said Trenton. "You just swore an oath to a Green Knight. If you break that oath, you could be expelled from the Order and imprisoned."

"Just get on with it!" Jerret whimpered. "I'm dying!"

Trenton fell silent, and a chill seemed to sweep through the chamber. A feeling of rage permeated the air. As Lannon watched in horror, Trenton's face began to change in the torchlight-becoming covered in shifting shadows. His flesh bubbled and cracked open, and then coarse black hair sprouted all over it. His nose and mouth stretched into a long, wolf-like muzzle. His fingers warped into wicked claws. His eyes gleamed with pure malice.

Trenton Shadowbane was gone-replaced by some sort of wolf-like monster. The beast ripped the vines apart that held it, attacking with mindless fury. Even as the roots tried to retreat, the creature pounced on them and tore them into pieces. Soon lots of severed and twitching roots lay in piles, leaking black blood.

The beast then seemed to focus its evil, rage-filled eyes on Lannon. The Squire trembled as the creature approached him, but the wolf monster merely tore the roots away from him. As the roots tried to retreat, the beast dispatched them into bloody pieces. Soon all of the roots drew back, and the Dark Mothers moved away, leaving a path through the cavern.

"We must save the others!" said Lannon, but the wolf beast ignored him and started off through the cavern.

Having no choice, the Squires followed. The Dark Mothers continued to avoid them, allowing them to escape. At last they entered another narrow tunnel and the cavern with its bloated trees was left behind.

Shifting shadows crawled over Trenton's flesh in the torchlight, revealing the human form of the Investigator-fully clothed and without a mark or stain. Trenton still looked weary, however-mentally if not physically. "Well, now you know, Squires, that I am more than just a man."

The Squires stared at him in shock. If the Squires had feared Trenton before, they now found the Investigator to be utterly terrifying. Trenton barely seemed human, and he certainly didn't seem like a Divine Knight-but more like some creature of the Deep Shadow. Lannon could understand why the High Council didn't trust him. What manner of bizarre sorcery could turn a man into a raging beast? Lannon had never heard of such a thing and would not have believed it could exist. Furthermore, he found it hard to believe such sorcery was permitted at Dremlock.

"We have to save them!" said Aldreya, referring to Jace and the missing Knights. "They might still be getting crushed in that cavern!"

"I agree," said Lannon, though he shuddered at the thought of venturing back into the lair of the Dark Mothers.

Jerret held his ribs and groaned. "I need a healer."

"We dare not go back," said Trenton. "The Knights are capable of defending themselves, and it would be far too dangerous."

"What about…" Lannon dared not finish his statement. He wondered why Trenton couldn't simply transform again into that beast.

Trenton's lips tightened. "I know what you are hinting at, Squire, but it isn't possible right now. A period of rest is required before I can make the transformation again. And bear in mind that you swore an oath not to speak of it. We shall try to find a way back to the surface, so we can return with a large company of Knights and make a full assault on the Dark Mothers."

"But they might be dead by then!" said Aldreya.

"Do not question me!" snarled Trenton. "I am weary of Squires with bold tongues. Just do as I command."

Aldreya bowed. "Yes, Master Trenton." She exchanged an unhappy glance with Lannon.

Lannon scanned the tunnel with the Eye of Divinity. Although weakened, the Eye revealed traces up ahead of Goblins and humans that had been through there recently. As they went a bit farther, the tunnel split in two around a large pile of iron ore. At the foot of the ore heap Dwarven bones and skulls were strewn around. Lannon could sense danger in both tunnels, but he couldn't tell which tunnel was safer. Yet the others stood watching him, waiting for him to lead the way.

"We should go right," he said, as if he knew what he was doing. Without hesitation, Trenton led the way into the right tunnel.

They heard a thump behind them and whirled around to find an enormous Ogre staring at them. The creature filled the tunnel with its bulk. It stood motionless, its black eyes shining in the torch fire.

"Flee, Squires!" Trenton cried.

The company ran down the tunnel, with the Ogre lumbering after them. They could hear it scraping against the stone walls and smell its foul stench. It was so close they could feel its hot breath as it panted.

Then it stopped-as if the Ogre had suddenly given up. But the company continued to flee along the tunnel. Jerret stumbled over a loose stone and fell hard to the floor, crying out in pain. Trenton hauled him to his feet.

"I can't go on," Jerret groaned. "Too much pain."

"Act like a Knight," said Trenton, scowling. "The Ogre may have abandoned us, but we can't stay here forever. And I refuse to carry you."

Wincing with each step, Jerret started off again, holding his ribs. Aldreya lent him some support.

A growing terror began to build in Lannon's mind, and the Eye of Divinity retreated inside him. It was the same old frustrating fear that kept him from using his power-only it seemed much stronger now. He felt that the truth behind the fear was about to be revealed, some dreary and evil truth that he wanted no part of. He said nothing about it, because he wasn't sure what to say. He didn't know if what he was feeling was a legitimate warning of danger or just a phantom terror.

But Trenton seemed to catch on somehow. "What's wrong with you, Squire? Your face had gone deathly pale."

"I'm just afraid," said Lannon. "I don't know why. I don't sense any danger, but…" He shook his head. "Something is bothering me."

Trenton frowned. "Well, unless we want to battle that Ogre, we can't go back." He waved the torch ahead and squinted. "I have no idea where we are beneath Dremlock. My sense of direction is hopelessly lost."

"I think we should turn back," Lannon said. His words were unexpected and startled him.

"And confront an Ogre?" said Trenton. "I'd rather not."

"Do you see something with the Eye?" asked Aldreya.

"It's a feeling," said Lannon.

"Well, feelings are just feelings," said Trenton, "and matter not. If the Eye isn't speaking to you, we must move on."

Lannon nodded, but the fear was so strong it seemed to be choking him. He could almost hear whispers in his mind, and when he closed his eyes, he could just barely glimpse crimson runes flowing downward, as if some evil sorcery was at work in his mind. The runes seemed to drain his strength and will-to smother his ability to call upon the Eye-and leave only fear.

Trenton seized Lannon's arm and practically dragged him along. The tunnel soon widened, with pillars hewn from the stone that displayed Olrog runes. Stone coffins stood in chambers on either side, smashed open with bones strewn around as if from Goblin activity. The mines were said to contain many Olrog tombs, as the Grey Dwarves were known to bury their dead in caverns deep underground, but they were usually sealed off. This tomb stood wide open, the extravagant coffins proudly displayed-perhaps once guarded by Olrog warriors.

Trenton turned and glanced at the Squires, a nervous glint in his eyes. The Squires felt the same fear the Investigator was feeling as they glanced at the broken coffins. Olrog skulls seemed to gaze at them with empty eye sockets. Trenton read aloud an inscription on a stone pillar:

The Gates of the Mountain

Baltan's Way

The Way of Warriors

The Restless Dead

The Second Temple

"The Second Temple," Trenton repeated. "There are three temples dedicated to the Divine Essence at Dremlock. The Sacred Temple, the Temple of Oracles, and the Temple of Radiance. The Temple of Oracles was abandoned long ago thanks to excessive Goblin attacks and the fact that Dremlock stopped using oracles due to unreliable predictions."

"What does this mean?" Lannon asked.

"Obviously," said Trenton, "we stand at the gates of a temple that was abandoned to the Goblins long ago, a temple that stands at an exit tunnel from the mountains. I have no idea what to expect if we continue on. We might do better to go back and confront that Ogre. It's almost as if the Ogre wanted us to come this way, to send us into some foul snare."

"I agree," said Jerret, "let's go back. I can't keep wandering around. I need to get to the Hall of Healing."

"We can deal with the Ogre," said Aldreya. "Right, Lannon?"

"I don't know," said Lannon. "The Eye of Divinity is very weak right now. In fact, I'm not even using it." That was a half-truth, since it was actually his strange fear that was preventing him from summoning it.

"I too am quite weak," said Trenton. "Drained and weary. I think we'll have to continue on and take our chances. We could potentially escape the mountain through the temple, and from there it would be an easy journey to Dremlock."

They proceeded along the tunnel, which widened into a large cavern. Tall pillars created a path that led them to the entrance of the Temple of Oracles. The torchlight revealed a half-dome building carved from the stone of the mountain, with a sculpture of a wolf's mouth forming the entrance. The temple was very intimidating, almost gloomy or evil in appearance-vastly different from the Sacred Temple that stood above ground.

"Well, in we go," mumbled Trenton, stepping into the wolf's mouth with the others following reluctantly.

The temple's stone door stood open wide. They slowly and cautiously made their way through the interior, passing between iron benches toward the altar. A statue of a White Knight-an Olrog healer in a long robe and holding a thick book-was suddenly revealed in the torchlight, so lifelike it startled the Squires. The White Knight's eyes seemed to regard them sternly, making them feel like intruders.

"The door is probably beyond the altar," Trenton whispered. "It should take us into a long tunnel that will lead into open air."

But as the torchlight fell upon the altar, the companions gasped in shock. Standing before the flat, rectangular stone was Vorden. The former Squire seemed at ease, his arms folded across his chest, with the large gauntlet reflecting the torch flames. His eyes gleamed yellow. "Welcome, Lannon," he said," his gaze fixed on the Squire. "I've been waiting for you."

"Vorden!" Jerret gasped. "What are you doing down here?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Jerret?" said Vorden. "I said I was waiting for Lannon. Well, and finishing up a little business."

"What do you want with me?" said Lannon, struggling fiercely to summon the Eye. But his fear and weakened will would not allow it.

"I just wanted to give you a stronger warning," said Vorden, "than what Jerret could deliver. Abandon your quest for Knighthood, Lannon. I don't want to have to kill you. If you ignore me, you will die by my Hand."

"You will surrender immediately, Vorden," said Trenton, though he looked uncertain, and his hand trembled on his sword hilt.

Vorden sneered at the Investigator. "Even a Green Knight is no match for me. Don't even try it, Trenton. I'll crush you with ease."

"Vorden, you are corrupted by evil!" said Aldreya. "Let us help you. We can remove the gauntlet and free your soul."

"Silence, Birlote!" said Vorden. "I do not speak to your kind!"

Lannon sighed wearily. "Vorden, if you don't surrender and let us help you, Taris may die. Are you going to walk away and let that happen?"

Vorden seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he scowled. "I have no love for Birlotes. Not even Taris. I don't care if he dies."

"Then you are a puppet," said Lannon.

"If you won't surrender," said Trenton, "then die!" With that, he drew his sword and it burst into blue flames. He leapt at Vorden, swinging for his head. It was a fantastic leap that carried Trenton right over the altar, and he swung his sword so swiftly it seemed that Vorden stood no chance of defending against it.

But Vorden deflected the sword with his gauntlet and seized Trenton's throat with his other hand, lifting the Investigator into the air. "Good effort," Vorden muttered, "but you're too weak to defeat me. I could defeat the entire High Council in battle-maybe even an entire legion of Divine Knights if it came to that. I should kill you for attacking me."

"Vile wretch!" Trenton croaked, struggling to break Vorden's grasp. "You…will…end up…"

Vorden hurled Trenton to the floor with such force that the Investigator went still, blood pooling around his head.

"You've killed him!" Lannon cried. He lifted Trenton's torch and knelt by the Investigator. Trenton was breathing shallowly.

Vorden shrugged. "He'll likely survive. He's a Green Knight and can take a beating. But it makes no difference to me either way. He attacked me first."

"I've had enough of this, Vorden," said Lannon, standing up. "I won't play your games, whatever they are."

Vorden nodded. "No games, my friend. Just a very serious warning. Leave Dremlock now. With your skills, you could have a good life in a city somewhere. You could be a rich man. I'm practically begging you, Lannon. You are my best friend and I'm going to great lengths to save you."

For an instant, Lannon considered Vorden's words. Vorden was right in that Lannon probably could live comfortably thanks to the power of the Eye, but Lannon realized he would never find peace if he fled Dremlock. "I can't do it, Vorden. I came here to be a Divine Knight, and I swore an oath to defend Dremlock."

Vorden sighed. "I'm not alone in this temple. If you had use of the Eye, which I know you do not, you would sense that my master stands nearby in the shadows. He may decide to kill all of you for your stubbornness. In fact, that would be a logical decision on his part. So again I beg you to agree to leave Dremlock forever."

Lannon waved the torch around but could see no one else. "How did you know…?"

"That you can't summon the Eye?" said Vorden. He smiled. "Because my master is whispering in your mind, invoking the fear that drains your will. He has been draining your will for months, preparing the trap you now find yourself in. You would be dead already, except that I have stayed his hand to make this appeal to you. This is a life or death decision."

Lannon glanced at Trenton, wondering if he would soon join the Investigator in a pool of blood. He considered lying to Vorden, but he somehow knew Vorden would see through him. "Nothing will change, Vorden. I will remain a Squire and fight against Tharnin and the Blood Legion. But I'm asking that you spare our lives out of friendship."

Vorden looked troubled and hesitant.

A dark figure stepped from the shadows and into the torchlight-a figure that was a mass of shifting shadows. Violet eyes glared at Lannon and froze his soul.

"Tenneth Bard!" Lannon whispered.

The dark figure pointed a finger at Lannon that vaguely resembled a talon. "You have sealed your fate, Squire."

"Master," Vorden said to the mass of shifting shadows, "I ask that you give Lannon time to reconsider."

"He has been given enough time," came the hissing response. "His time has run out. He has done enough damage to my plans."

"Then leave me to the task," said Vorden. "I have agreed to serve you in all ways and never betray you. Do that much for me."

The violet eyes flashed in rage. "And then you will spare them, of course. And then they will come north and we will be forced to deal with them in battle, when they are stronger. Tell me this isn't your plan?"

Vorden bowed his head. "I won't lie to you, Master."

"I will grant you your favor," said the dark figure. "As a test. If you are truly loyal to me and worthy of Knighthood in the Blood Legion, you will kill them now. But if you fail, and jeopardize everything I have worked for, I may have to reconsider your worth. Choose carefully, Vorden."

With that, the mass of shifting shadows vanished into the darkness, leaving Vorden alone at the altar.

"You won't kill us," said Lannon. "I know it." Inside, though, he wasn't so sure. Under the command of the demon-infested gauntlet, Vorden might be capable of anything.

"I have to kill you," said Vorden, "or my master will not respect me. He has just taken a huge gamble, knowing that if I can summon the strength to execute my closest friends, I will be his loyal servant forever."

"But you won't do it," said Lannon. Somehow, he was certain Vorden would spare their lives.

Vorden leapt over the altar and seized Lannon's throat with the gauntlet. Lannon immediately struggled to breathe. "I'm sorry, my friend. But my master has commanded me to do a task, and I cannot refuse. We are the Knights of the New Order, and unlike the weaklings of Dremlock, we are required to show no pity and give no quarter."

Lannon gazed into Vorden's yellow eyes without flinching. Aldreya hurled green fire at Vorden from her dagger, but it deflected away harmlessly. Vorden stayed focused on Lannon and ignored the Birlote sorceress.

"You can't do it," Lannon whispered. "Not yet." Lannon was terrified, but his confidence that Vorden would spare him never wavered. He focused on overcoming his fear, and he felt sudden anger at Tenneth Bard for invading his mind with his evil whispers. At last, Lannon drove the fear out of his heart and summoned the Eye of Divinity. As the Eye emerged, it felt stronger in some way Lannon couldn't explain. Still, he waited for Vorden to decide.

"Not yet," Vorden echoed. He released Lannon and stepped back. "You know me well, Lannon. Yes, I will spare you this time and disappoint my master. I think perhaps he knew I would. I wanted to prove him wrong, but he is never wrong. Now I will be punished."

"Thank you, my friend," said Lannon.

"Yes, you may still refer to me as a friend," said Vorden. "But this is the last time we shall meet as friends, if you continue to stay on the path to Knighthood. Don't come north, Lannon. You will find a new man waiting in the mountains-a Black Knight who will crush you without remorse."

Lannon said nothing. He knew Vorden spoke the truth.

"I have failed my master," said Vorden. "Now I must go and learn what my punishment will be. I am certain my master will require that I eventually kill you in order to redeem myself. This is somehow all part of his plan."

"A twisted, evil plan," said Lannon. "A plan to destroy Dremlock!"

Vorden grinned. "Indeed. My master is too wise for the Divine Knights, and his ways will remain a mystery to them. There is no doubt that Dremlock is nearing an end at last. And I am grateful to be part of it."

Lannon shuddered, realizing how far gone Vorden was already. The Hand of Tharnin had stolen his best friend and was turning him into a monster. The creature of shifting shadows that Lannon believed was Tenneth Bard was somehow draining the life and will from Dremlock Kingdom as easily as he'd drained Lannon of his use of the Eye. And Vorden now seemed to be his most prized puppet.

"Who is your master?" said Lannon. "Is he really Tenneth Bard?"

"Does it matter who he is?" said Vorden. "And you already know the truth. You have looked into his eyes and glimpsed his soul."

"So I was right all along," said Lannon.

Vorden pointed a metal finger at Lannon. "Don't come north. That goes for you as well, Jerret. That is my last warning. Goodbye, my friends."

"Goodbye, Vorden," Jerret whispered, but his eyes were cold and his hand was locked around his sword hilt.

Lannon didn't respond, but simply watched as Vorden turned and moved off into the shadows. Vorden's warning had fallen on deaf ears. Lannon had every intention of going where he needed to go and saving his friend from the grasp of the Deep Shadow. He never doubted it for an instant.

Moments later, Trenton groaned and sat up, his eyes glazed. "I was dreaming," he said, "of the fall of Dremlock. The Sacred Altar was bathed in wolf's blood. The…the shadow of the wolf stalks our kingdom beneath a frosty moon…a bleak future. I have seen the end of it all beneath the bitter moon, death in the tower…"

"Are you okay?" Lannon asked.

Trenton rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "What's that, Squire? Oh, I guess I was still dreaming…" He jumped up, his eyes wide. He clutched his head and winced. "What a rotten headache! Did Vorden escape?"

"Escape?" said Jerret, looking confused. "No, he let us live and walked away."

***

In the chamber of the Mother Trees, the three Dark Knights had managed to hack their way into the cavern. The Grey Dwarves had refused to give up, and at last their stubbornness had paid off as the roots parted before them. Their rune-covered, heavy armor and bushy beards were splattered with the foul black blood, and their eyes blazed with fury. Their flaming axes rose and fell to their battle cries, as the trees shrank back. Even the wise and ancient Dark Mothers seemed unprepared for the berserk onslaught of these Olrogs. The trees relied on each other for strength, their sorcery channeled with the blood that ran through the roots, and with each blow from a burning axe, their defenses weakened.

The white wolves held back, however, since their teeth were ineffective against the trees. They paced around in the narrow tunnel, growling-perhaps wondering what had become of their master Trenton.

The three Grey Dwarves were seemingly tireless, and bit by bit, they fought their way to where the company was entangled and chopped them free. Though weary, Jace, Shennen, Thrake, and Willan were not seriously injured and still had strength left for battle. Once free, they joined the Dwarves in attacking the trees. Jace seized writhing roots and tore them in two with his bare hands, black blood pouring out onto the cavern floor and making it slippery.

They beat back the trees, but could find no sign of Lannon and the others. They shouted to them as they fought, but hearing no response, at last they were forced to retreat back into the tunnel from which they had first emerged.

They leaned against the stone walls, gasping for breath and feeling fortunate to have survived the snare. None of them-not even the Dark Knights-had ever encountered such a powerful nest of Mother Trees, and they were shaken from the experience. They wondered how many other such nests existed below Dremlock, spawning legions of Goblins into the huge maze of tunnels that was the kingdom's greatest weakness.

"We've failed Lannon!" Shennen said. "The trees must have devoured Trenton and the Squires. The Divine Shield has broken."

"Not likely," said Jace. "Don't forget the noises we heard-the wolf growls. I suspect they are all still alive and in the tunnels somewhere."

"Of course!" said Shennen, his eyes lighting up. "That must have been Trenton. Then we might not have failed after all. But what now?"

Jace shrugged and wiped sweat and dirt from his face "You're the Knight, Shennen. That's up to you to decide."

"We have to search for them," said Thrake. "There seems to be no existing map of this area of the mines, but other maps might show us a way to bypass that foul cavern. Or we could return with a larger company of Knights and fight our way through. I like the latter idea."

Shennen took Willan aside and the two Blue Knights whispered to each other-words too quiet for the others to hear. At last Shennen turned to the others and said: "For now, we must return to the surface. Willan will remain below and attempt to use stealth to find them."

"I don't like that idea," said Jace. "It's too dangerous down here for any lone Knight to be sneaking around."

"I agree," said Thrake. "It would be folly."

"I have made my decision," said Shennen, "and Willan agrees with it. Lannon is too valuable to Dremlock not to attempt a search."

"We can regroup and search later," said Jace.

Willan bowed his head. "No, my master has requested that I search now. When the trees have settled down, I will try to sneak through the cavern. I have sworn an oath to protect Lannon, and I will fulfill it."

Thrake patted Willan on the shoulder. "I wish you good fortune, my friend. And if I knew the art of stealth, I would be glad to go with you."

"Willan has extraordinary stealth," said Shennen. "I am convinced he will find Lannon and return him to Dremlock."

Jace sighed. "We've rested long enough. Let's move on."

They started off down the tunnel, leaving Willan standing silently in the shadows, his sword gleaming faintly in the dark.

It was the last they ever saw of him.

Chapter 11: Trial by Sword

While Lannon and the others were navigating the mines below Dremlock, to the south in the City of Silvergate, Timlin Woodmaster sat in a tavern in an area of town where theft and murder were normal business affairs. He'd wandered in with some copper coins he'd stolen-enough to buy him a mug of milk but not enough to earn him a meal. As he sat sipping his drink, his stomach was gnawed by hunger. To the left of him, a drunken woman was slumped over the bar. On his right, a muscular, bearded man was drinking ale and trying to get Timlin's attention with a grin that Timlin was trying to ignore.

After leaving Dremlock, Timlin had found nothing but misery. The people in the lands near the kingdom had ignored him, and he'd ended up wandering around stealing food and sneaking into barns to sleep. He'd finally found a merchant willing to give him a ride on a wagon to Silvergate.

During his time at Dremlock, Timlin had forgotten what it was like to be poor and not have his needs tended to. He'd fantasized about striding out of Dremlock and joining the Blood Legion, but he'd ended up in an endless struggle just to find his next meal. It left him with little time for anything else. He suspected the Blood Legion could be found in a major city like Silvergate-but Divine Knights could also be found there, patrolling the city. Some were spies of Dremlock. Fearing they would recognize him, Timlin hid in dark alleys and crept around mostly at night.

Timlin was beginning to grow weary and to believe that betraying Dremlock had been a mistake. His life at the kingdom had been much easier and far more exciting. He'd been a privileged Squire, riding with fully trained Knights into adventure. Now he was just a ragged thief looking for a bit of food. He still hated Dremlock and its Knights as deeply as ever, but there were many things he missed as well.

But now, as he sat there with his stomach feeling painfully empty, he wondered if he was a huge fool for not simply living as a Divine Knight. He kept thinking of the large, delicious meals that Dremlock offered to its servants, of the excellent training and glorious adventures.

"Is that milk fresh, little fellow?" asked the bearded man next to him. "Brelth is my name. I'm a fisherman." He extended his hand.

Timlin ignored the hand. "The milk is fine. Do you know where I can find the Blood Legion?"

Brelth laughed. "I said I fish for living. I'm not a killer. I do like a good brawl now and then, though. What about you?"

"I'm hungry," said Timlin.

The barkeep sat a platter of fried fish in front of Brelth. He chuckled and laid into it. "Sorry to hear that, little fellow," he said, his mouth full of fish. "Life is hard. You ever worked on a fishing boat? I need a skinny man who can move fast and is tireless, for the simple job of killing Storm Eels. You have to be good with a dagger and slice them right in the nets, without cutting the nets! It's very dangerous work. Men die all the time who miss the cut and get stung for their troubles. A sting from a Storm Eel is like getting struck by a lightning bolt. This is a job for someone with a steady hand and a lot of skill."

"I can use a dagger," said Timlin. "But I'm looking for the Blood Legion, as I said. That's the only work I want."

"There is a lot of work around here for thieves and assassins," said Brelth. "But with your small build, you don't look like much of a fighter. You're likely to be ignored. And the Blood Legion? I doubt they would even glance your way. I'm offering you an honest job with good pay. Fish by day, drink ale at night. What more could a man ask for in life?"

Timlin kept glancing at the fried fish. "I don't want to be a thief or an assassin. I want to be a Legion Soldier."

Brelth grinned slyly. "I can see you really want some food-more than anything right now, I'll bet. I'll make you a deal. Come to work on my boat killing eels, and I'll order you your own platter of fish. And another ale along with it."

Timlin considered it. He did need work, at least until he could meet with the Blood Legion, and the job sounded mildly exciting. And he felt like he was starving. "I guess I'll accept that offer. When do I start?"

"I've got to get you prepared," said Brelth. "Meet me by the East Docks this evening, just after the sun goes down. My boat should be in by then, and you can meet my crew. Then, you can begin tomorrow at sunrise."

"I'll be there," said Timlin.

Brelth grinned. "You will have no regrets."

***

The sun had gone down across the water, and many stars were visible in the sky, as Timlin sat on a crate and waited. Several fishing boats had already docked and unloaded, and now the area stood silent and empty save for an occasional splash of some fish or other water creature. The smell of wood smoke drifted to his nostrils, as he shivered in the chill night air.

Timlin wasn't fond of the prospect of working a common job, for that wasn't why he'd left Dremlock. He realized he could get caught up in an endless cycle of working and spending whatever money he earned-until he grew old and feeble and any hope for a better life was gone. Poverty seemed like trap that few could escape, the reality of always having to worry about one's next meal. Timlin possessed fantastic skills, yet he seemed unable to find a use for them beyond petty theft. No one seemed to listen to him when he bragged of his abilities, and when he spoke of his desire to join the Blood Legion, people quickly changed the subject or moved away from him. Finding a good career-even in crime-was very difficult. It seemed a lucky break was required to even get someone to notice you.

This line of thought made Timlin realize how fortunate he'd been to be chosen as a Squire by Dremlock. He'd been given a chance to be a Divine Knight and make his fortune-and had thrown it away, firmly believing he would instantly be taken in by the Blood Legion. He wondered how he could have been so foolish, considering he'd grown up in poverty and knew how difficult it was to escape its hold.

Timlin was lucky to have survived childhood-the long years of torment. In his nightmares, he found himself again facing the cruel whip and endless hours imprisoned beneath the cold ground. The torture and loss he'd endured had left him cynical and bitter toward life. Yet life had tried to redeem itself in his eyes, giving him a chance to ride with the Divine Knights-giving him unique skills to secure his future at Dremlock. But the bitter shadows of the past had managed to tear him down once again. He hated himself more than he hated the Knights of Dremlock-the Knights who had failed miserably to protect him when he was a child. Timlin knew that hating all Knights for the actions of a few was not logical. He'd tried to forgive them and even to become one of them, but somehow his mind and soul had never escaped the dark pit in the ground he'd once called home.

Regardless, Timlin needed a job if he wanted to eat. And so he continued to sit and wait. The area was growing very dark, and still no boat appeared. Timlin began to feel uneasy, wondering if he'd been tricked. It made no sense, considering he had no money. Still, he sat and waited.

Just when he was about to give up, he caught a glimpse of movement from the corner of his eye. He leapt up, hand on his Flayer. A tall figure stood on the dock, concealed by the evening shadows.

"Is that you, Brelth?" said Timlin, chills creeping over his flesh. "I was starting to think you weren't going to show up. Where's your boat?"

A quiet laugh greeted Timlin's ears. "Whoever you were hoping to meet has not come." The man lit a torch, revealing a large figure in dark clothing. A black hood covered his face and he held a gleaming, curved sword. Timlin could tell it was a man by the tone of his voice and the look of his hands.

'What do you want?" said Timlin. "If you're here to rob me, you're wasting your time. I have no money."

"Maybe I just want to kill you," said the stranger.

Rage surged through Timlin, diminishing his fear. "Go ahead and try it. I want you to. You obviously don't know who you're dealing with."

"You want me to attack you?" said the man.

His good sense overcome by anger, Timlin nodded.

"Then defend yourself!" snarled the man. With that, he lunged toward Timlin, swinging his sword at the boy's neck.

Timlin easily evaded the stroke and darted in, slashing the man's face and slicing it open through the hood. The stranger took a step backwards.

"You want to try that again?" said Timlin, trembling with rage. "Next time it will be your throat that gets cut."

"I can't believe you landed a blow!" the stranger muttered, shaking his head. "You're going to pay dearly for that!"

The stranger swung at Timlin again, and Timlin blocked with his Flayer. The curved blades were locked together for a moment, and then the stranger shoved Timlin down. Timlin rolled over smoothly and stood up.

"Well done," said the stranger. "You fight with great skill. But now I must put an end to this." He whistled, and two more large men, wearing hoods, appeared in the torchlight. The three of them charged at Timlin.

Timlin slashed out with his Flayer, but the stroke was deflected by a sword. He struck again and caught one man in the shoulder, ripping it open. But the other two men overpowered him and seized his arms.

The man with the wounded shoulder touched the gash, his hand coming away covered in blood. "I'm impressed. You're quite the dangerous little devil, as you could have cut off my head had I been a bit slower in evading. As it is, I'm feeling the sting from your blade."

"I said I have no money!" Timlin yelled. "So let go of me!"

The man with the hurt shoulder leaned close to Timlin. "Money? Who cares about that? Maybe we like to kill for pleasure."

Timlin spit at him. "You're all cowards for fighting three against one."

"You wanted to find the Blood Legion," said the stranger. "And so you have. Now what?"

Timlin's mouth dropped open. "You're from the Blood Legion?"

The man yanked off his hood, revealing a black beard and scarred face. It was Brelth, the supposed fisherman. He smiled.

"But why did you attack me?" Timlin asked.

"Just a minor test," said Brelth. "We know who you are, but we are still required to test potential recruits. But I must say that we were not expecting you to be that skilled, considering you're a Squire. Your speed is extraordinary, and you could easily have killed one or more of us. And we are very well-trained fighters."

"What should I do now?" said Timlin, his heart pounding with excitement. It seemed his fortune was about to take a huge turn for the better.

"We will guide you to a hideout," said Brelth, "where Legion Soldiers will be waiting. From there, the Legion Masters will decide how your skills will be used and what training you shall receive. But based on what I've seen, you can expect good things in your future." He smiled. "I must say-I'm very excited about finding such a fine prospect."

"Thank you," said Timlin. "I will do my best to serve."

"You will go far," said Brelth. "The dark path will open wide before you, Timlin Woodmaster. You have found your destiny."

Chapter 12: The Festival of Fire

After the grim events in the mines, the search party regrouped at Dremlock. The Temple of Oracles had indeed led Lannon and his defenders out of the mountain, and from there, they encountered no more trouble on the winding road back to the kingdom. They were delighted to find that the others had survived the grasp of the Dark Mothers, but the celebration was diminished by the news that Willan had not reported back from the mines. Several search parties were sent-without Lannon and his Divine Shield, in spite of Lannon's request to join the search-but they could find no trace of him. After a week had passed, they concluded Willan was dead and held a funeral for him in the Sacred Temple.

Spring was giving way to the warmth of summer, and Dremlock was in a festive mood in spite of the recent happenings. Grim events were always taking place at Dremlock and didn't stop the periodic celebrations. The kingdom was hard at work preparing for the Festival of Fire, which was designed to honor the Birlotes who had lent support to Dremlock. The Festival consisted of a great feast held outdoors on the West Tower Training Grounds, where the Color Trials and other important events usually took place. The table-filled courtyard would be lit by Birlote torches, which had given the Festival its name. Birlote archers and sorcerers would perform tricks for the crowd.

But Lannon Sunshield was not in a festive mood at all, and neither was Taris Warhawk. Taris' health had not improved enough for him to attempt the journey to his homeland of Borenthia. He was so weak he could barely get out of bed, and many were afraid he would die on a long journey home. Only the sorcerer's immense will seemed to be keeping him alive.

Lannon stood by Taris' bed one morning, with his guards waiting outside the room. He gazed down in shock at the Birlote sorcerer. Taris' face seemed half covered in squirming shadows, and his left eye had turned permanently yellow. He was very gaunt and seemed barely able to move.

The room was dark, the window shutters drawn in spite of the warm, sunny day. A chill seemed to hang in the air. Candles burned in niches in the stone walls, and the smell of Birlote incense was strong. The atmosphere was so somber that Lannon almost felt like he stood in a tomb.

"We may soon ride to the Bonefrost Mountains," said Lannon. "Hopefully, we'll bring back the Hand of Tharnin."

Taris managed a smile. "I would expect nothing less. However, there is a real possibility I may be dead before you return. I know that's not what you want to hear, but you need to realize the truth and be prepared for it."

Lannon sighed in frustration. "I just wish there was some way to help you. I mean, some easier way."

"I'm not fond of the prospect of dying," said Taris. "I'm still young by Birlote standards and feel I have much yet to accomplish in life. It seems unfair. Of course, what can I do other than complain? Being forced to surrender one's life is always unpleasant. So I've chosen simply to fight to my last breath. At least I can die knowing I did that much."

"But there must be a way to cure you!" Lannon insisted. "We were so close to having the gauntlet in our possession…"

"You can't control everything," said Taris. "Life is fleeting, Lannon. Do what you can, but don't be disappointed if you fail."

"If you're dead when I return," said Lannon, "I will be very disappointed."

"How do you know you'll return?" said Taris.

"What do you mean?" said Lannon, chilled by Taris' words.

Taris gave Lannon a piercing stare. "You must understand the reality of the situation. Jace was wrong to assume the gauntlet wouldn't favor a warrior like Vorden, and I should never have listened to him. My belief is that Vorden will be far more powerful than Vellera the simple farmer was. His Knightly skills will enhance the power of the Hand of Tharnin. He will be nearly invincible. The encounter in the mines-the sparing of your life by Vorden-was, among other things, likely a plot to draw you north with an elite company of Knights. Whoever Vorden's master is, he is very confident that he will score a great victory in the Bonefrost Mountains and leave Dremlock severely weakened."

"Then you're saying I shouldn't go?" said Lannon.

"You have to go," said Taris, "or Dremlock will not survive. And when you go, you may have to confront Vorden and find a way to defeat him. You won't be able to take him prisoner. You'll have to kill him."

"I can't kill him," said Lannon. "He's my friend."

Taris clutched Lannon's wrist with a trembling hand. "This isn't Timlin we're talking about. Vorden has likely become a Black Knight of Tharnin. If you don't give full effort, you stand no chance against him. He will burn you to ash and that will be the end of Lannon Sunshield and his Eye of Divinity."

Lannon nodded. "I'll do what I must, Master Taris."

Taris released him, his eyes closing for a moment. "I know you will. But it still might not be enough. It could take all the strength that Dremlock possesses to defeat Vorden and his Blood Legion. We are weak right now, and our foes are very strong. You've come to Dremlock during one of our darkest periods, when our survival is truly in doubt. The Goblin Lords were just a sign of things to come. The Deep Shadow has gained an edge over us recently. You were brought to the kingdom to tip the scales in our favor, but it hasn't happened yet. The Hand of Tharnin is only one of many grave threats that I believe will be revealed in the months and years to come."

"Any advice on what I should do?" asked Lannon.

"Keep practicing with the Eye," said Taris. "Push yourself until you're exhausted, every day. It will be weeks before Dremlock confronts the Blood Legion. You should grow stronger during that time. Also, prepare yourself mentally to kill Vorden. Visualize yourself slaying him in your mind."

Lannon shuddered. "Taris, I don't want to visualize that!"

"Of course you don't," said Taris, "but you must. Hopefully, you will not have to face him. Dremlock is filled with Knights who can do that for you. But we both know our foes take a special interest in you. The chances are high that Vorden will confront you-if only because he is, or was, your friend. You can expect the battle in the Bonefrost Mountains to be different than the confrontation with Vellera. This will be a full-scale assault, with the Knights prepared for war. That means heavy lances will be involved and siege engines. Much of the fighting could take place from a distance. Yet in spite of all that, it could easily come down to you and Vorden locked in combat-and rest assured, it will be a duel to the death."

"I'll do my best to prepare," said Lannon.

"It's a shame," said Taris, "that a young Squire like you should bear so many burdens. But it has happened many times in Dremlock's history. Valuable Squires-usually talented Birlotes-pushed too early and often into combat. If only you had the will and mindset of a Birlote, things would be a bit easier for you. But Noracks are weak against the forces of Tharnin. If I was a Norack, I would be dead from this wound. I would have died the very night it was inflicted upon me. The light and dark skinned folk are easily enslaved by Tharnin."

"Not all of them," said Lannon, thinking of his father. Lannon had received a letter recently from his parents and had learned that his father was still resisting his own infection of dark sorcery and was doing relatively well. Of course, Lannon suspected his father's illness was far weaker than what Taris was dealing with.

"No, not all of them," Taris agreed. "I heard about your father's courageous struggle. He must have a very strong will."

"And Furlus has survived his wound," said Lannon. "In fact, he's walking around better every day. How has he been able to heal?"

"I suspected Furlus would recover," said Taris. "While Birlotes have strong resistance against the Deep Shadow, the Grey Dwarves are nearly immune to it. The Olrogs were once servants of Tharnin, and that changed them forever. The dark sorcery did not affect Furlus so much as the actual wound. His wound was much worse than mine, but the sorcery barely affected him at all-whereas it is slowly killing me."

"You need some Olrog blood in you," said Lannon, smiling.

Taris grimaced. "My blood is fine as it is. Olrog blood? I'm sure Furlus would love to hear you say that."

"Sorry," said Lannon. "I just meant…"

"You should go and train," said Taris. "You might be under the protection of the Divine Shield and free from normal training, but that's no reason to sit around all day doing nothing. Use your time wisely."

"I will," said Lannon. "You just keep working on feeling better. You're going to make a full recovery if I have my way."

But Taris didn't answer. He lay with his eyes closed, engaged in his terrible internal struggle to stay alive.

***

While Dremlock was preparing for the Festival of Fire, in the southern city of Silvergate, Timlin was still wondering if he'd made a grave mistake. Unlike the Knights of Dremlock, the Legion Soldiers seemed wild and fanatical, obeying rules Timlin couldn't comprehend. On the dock, the Soldiers had praised his skills and left him feeling reassured he would have an easy time of things, but once he arrived at the Legion hideout, he began to feel that his life meant nothing to these cold-hearted warriors.

The hideout was below a tavern underground, in a very dangerous area of the city, and it consisted of several rooms with passages that led into the sewers. Timlin was assigned an instructor. He was ordered not to speak to anyone but his instructor. His rank was apparently the lowest of the low, which left him disgruntled. He had expected better treatment.

Timlin's instructor was named Vebbeas. He was a tall man with silver hair and cold eyes, his face weathered and sullen in the lantern light. "You were chosen as a potential recruit," he said. "But I would like to know why. The Legion favors men of large build and great strength."

They stood alone in a training room with weapons and armor on racks along the walls. Vebbeas didn't seem to like Timlin. He glared at the lad, his arms folded across his chest, and his demeanor put Timlin on the defensive.

Timlin was at a loss for words for a moment. Then he said, "I'm a former Blue Squire of Dremlock. I have extensive skills in lock picking, assassination, stealth, and combat with the dagger and the bow."

Vebbeas sneered. "So you're a backstabber. Legion Soldiers prefer to face an enemy in honorable combat. We pride ourselves on strength and intimidation. Some call us barbarians or savages, but all fear us. What we are not is a bunch of common thieves and cutthroats."

Timlin shrugged helplessly, wondering if his dream was disintegrating before his eyes. "But aren't my skills somewhat valuable?"

Vebbeas sighed. "Somewhat, yes. But if you want to be part of the Legion, you'll have to learn to fight like a real warrior-face to face. I have no doubt that you have the skills you claim, but your biggest challenge will be honorable combat. You're trained to kill by surprise, by quick and deadly strikes. How would you fare against a trained warrior with stout armor and a shield?"

"I'm not sure," said Timlin, speaking truthfully. "My greatest skill is with the bow. So I obviously prefer to fight from a distance."

"Archery is important," said Vebbeas. "But again, that is secondary to honorable combat. And there is nothing intimidating at all about your appearance. Typically, a lad of your stature would be ignored by Legion recruiters."

"But I wasn't ignored," said Timlin, trying to stand taller. "So that must mean something, right?"

"What it means," said Vebbeas, "is that you were given a chance based on your reputation. I know that you were a companion of Lannon Sunshield and one of the more skilled Squires at Dremlock. But don't assume you're worth more to us than you actually are. Truthfully, I'm considering rejecting you."

Timlin cringed. "But I can prove myself. I'll fight anyone here! I'll fight to the death if need be against anyone you choose!"

Vebbeas looked him up and down and shook his head. "You're no fighter, Timlin. You might do better to live as a thief or an assassin and not a Legion Soldier. With your skills, you could make a good living at theft."

Timlin's eyes flashed with anger. "I'm not a sneak or a backstabber in spite of my training. I can fight like a barbarian!"

"You would need to build up your strength," said Vebbeas. "That means you would have to eat a great deal more than you do and spend much time training your muscles. Your height cannot be changed, but you could still broaden your shoulders a bit. Even then, I doubt anyone would tremble in fear at the sight of you."

"I'll do whatever it takes," said Timlin. "The men on the dock said I had found my destiny, that I would do great things!"

"First, I will test your loyalty," said Vebbeas. "For without loyalty, there is nothing." He questioned Timlin extensively about his life at Dremlock, all he knew about Lannon, and the plans of the Divine Knights. Timlin answered every question honestly, while Vebbeas wrote down notes.

When the questioning was finished, Timlin said, "I've told you everything I know. Have I proven my loyalty?"

Vebbeas shook his head. "On the contrary, you have proven you have no loyalty at all. You showed no reluctance to reveal secrets about Dremlock and your friends-with no promise of being allowed into the Legion. That concerns me greatly, for it means you cannot be trusted."

Timlin groaned. "It was a trick, then. I thought I was supposed to show loyalty to the Legion. And now you've gotten all the information out of me that I have. So I guess I'm worth even less now than I was before you questioned me."

"It was no trick," said Vebbeas. "Loyalty is extremely important to the Legion. An honorable man would not have given up his secrets so easily. Had you shown hesitation or remorse even to a small degree, you might have passed the test. But you were eager to talk. I have no doubt that what you told me is the truth. Actually, I wish I had some feeling you were lying to me. The fact that you can, with such eager honesty, betray your friends and fellow Squires sends chills down my spine. That's the mark of a rogue or a cold-hearted killer-not a Legion Soldier."

Timlin considered Vebbeas' words and found truth in them. He harbored no loyalty to his friends or anyone else. "But I am loyal," Timlin lied. "Just not to Dremlock. I would never betray the Blood Legion."

Vebbeas stood in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then at last he shook his head. "I'm afraid not, Timlin. The Blood Legion is very rigid when it comes to choosing its members. The men on the dock were mere spies and recruiters and did what they were required to do. Whoever told you the Blood Legion was your destiny was clearly drunk or just toying with you, Timlin."

Timlin couldn't believe it. "So…so that's it? I'm done? It's because I told you all I know! Now I'm useless to the Legion!"

Vebbeas shrugged. "All I did was ask questions, Timlin. I didn't torture you for the information. You chose to answer them. As a former companion of Lannon Sunshield, you might harbor some slight value. But my opinion is that you are simply too dangerous to be allowed into the Legion."

"But I can beat anyone here!" Timlin insisted, his voice turning shrill. "At least with the bow and the dagger. I can pick any lock!"

Vebbeas shook his head. "Sorry, lad, but it's not enough. We have outstanding archers and warriors-loyal men of conscience who care about their brothers and who would die for them in an instant. You seem heartless and bloodthirsty, and I cannot administer the Trial by Dagger and the Blood Oath."

Timlin stood there, his mouth hanging open. He'd never imagined he would be rejected. He thought he would rise quickly through the ranks and be given special privileges as he had at Dremlock.

"I gave them the Red Candle," said Timlin. "I…I swore an oath against Dremlock. I walked away from fame and fortune for this?"

Vebbeas gazed at him thoughtfully. He sighed. "The Red Candle holds meaning that shouldn't be ignored. Perhaps…there is still one route you can try. Three Soldiers will be riding north in a few days to Blombalk Fortress on the edge of the Western Bloodlands. You can ride with them and appeal to the Legion High Council of Knights. The Council is very rigid, outspoken, and dangerous. You will be risking your life by going there. If they find you unworthy and a waste of their time-or they simply don't like you-they could have you tortured, imprisoned, or even executed. But the choice is yours."

"I'll go," Timlin said, without hesitation.

"Then I wish you well," said Vebbeas, doubt in his eyes.

Timlin bowed. "Thank you, Master Vebbeas."

"I'm not your master," said Vebbeas, grimacing. "I bear no responsibility for your fate. Just remember to show great respect when confronting the Legion Council, for a single word taken as an insult could cause a quick sword stroke in response and cost you your foolish head."

***

It was a perfect summer night for the Festival of Fire-warm, yet with a mild, gentle breeze that swept across the courtyard. The grounds were bathed in a crimson glow from Birlote torches, exposing tables that were covered with all manner of delicious foods. The Knights loved to eat, and they spared no expense on meals-especially during celebrations. Most of the kingdom was gathered at the tables, waiting for dinner to begin.

Crestin Lightwielder, magician and entertainer, performed some tricks for the crowd. Crestin was a tall and flamboyant man dressed in a red robe with a large red hat, his broad face, framed by bushy sideburns, always bearing a smile. His eyes twinkled with delight as he mesmerized the crowd. His tricks included hurling some odd fireballs into the air that bounced around between the tables and caused a bit of chaos. After that, Crestin played some haunting Birlote melodies on his flute that would linger on in the dreams of those who listened.

All of the Birlotes in Dremlock who were capable of attending were gathered at a single long table, including Aldreya and Shennen. Noticeably absent was Taris Warhawk, and thus a chair at the head of the table sat empty. The High Council sat at another table next to the Birlotes.

Lannon sat with the remaining members of his Divine Shield, and he drew many stares from the other tables, which he tried and failed to ignore. Yet it was such a warm and pleasant summer evening that he couldn't help but enjoy it, his troubles dulled by the festive mood around him.

"I can't wait to eat!" said Jerret, his eyes fixed on the food. It had been a long wait since lunch, during which all the kitchens of Dremlock had been off limits while the feast was being prepared.

"I couldn't agree more," said Jace. His giant hands rested near a basket of fruit from which he'd been sneaking strawberries. A thick, ancient-looking book sat on the table in front of him. He popped a fat strawberry in his mouth and washed it down with some wine, before leafing through the book.

"What are you reading?" said Lannon, who noticed drawings of huge and grotesque Goblins on the pages. Even as he asked, he thought he was better off not knowing. He'd wanted simply to relax and celebrate this night and forget all of his troubles. Yet his curiosity betrayed him.

"A book on the beasts of Tharnin," said Jace. "I am beginning to suspect that the gauntlet may possess the power to control certain creatures that might otherwise be uncontrollable. If so, we could be in for a nasty surprise when we journey north. I believe our foes are hiding some great secret that they feel will give them an edge-and I don't mean the Hand of Tharnin itself. While the gauntlet is a formidable weapon, it still rests on the arm of one man. I feel there is a greater threat."

"Are you saying Vorden could summon some huge beasts?" said Jerret, "and command them to fight? I find that hard to believe. Using a weapon is one thing, but power like that seems impossible."

"Yet he controlled you, Jerret," said Jace, winking at the lad.

Jerret winced visibly, his red reddening. "He didn't control me, Jace. I allowed him to control me because I thought he needed my help. That's way different. Besides, I'd rather not be reminded of that incident."

"I agree," said Lannon. "I can't imagine Vorden standing there commanding some giant monster to do his bidding. It just doesn't seem possible."

"There are many things in this world," said Jace, "that you young Squires would never believe possible unless you saw them for yourself. The power to control one of the great beasts of Tharnin is not an impossibility. It is unlikely, yes. But the gauntlet is very powerful-an extraordinary item that took more than a century to craft. Who knows what amazing abilities it possesses?"

"So are you suggesting that Vorden could summon an army of beasts?" said Lannon, "and just stand back while they attack us?"

"Maybe one or two beasts," said Jace, "at the most. But some of the creatures of Tharnin are so powerful that a single one of them could slay a legion of Divine Knights. Typically, such creatures are wild and serve no one, but I'm beginning to think the true purpose for the Hand of Tharnin is to command at least one of the great beasts. If so, we are facing a very dire threat indeed."

Lannon sighed, almost wishing he hadn't asked what Jace was reading. But now he needed to know more on the topic. "Could one of those beasts be sent against Dremlock? Could it bring down the kingdom?"

"Dremlock is extremely well defended," said Jace. "It is likely our foes will wait for us to come north and catch us in the open. Once our battalion is eliminated, Dremlock will be left in a weakened state. Then the attack on the kingdom will come from all sides. Legion Soldiers and Goblins will overrun the kingdom, taking the towers one by one. Once the kingdom is occupied, they will then seek to destroy the heart of Dremlock-the Divine Essence itself."

Lannon shuddered. "Then it would be foolish to go north. Yet Taris said we had to go and fight for the kingdom."

"I disagree with Taris," said Jace. "We should let our foes come to us. If we go north, we're probably falling into a dastardly trap. Tenneth Bard spared your life in the mines. He knew Vorden wouldn't kill you. He obviously wants a battle to take place in the Bonefrost Mountains, and he knew if you were alive, the Knights would feel bold enough to go north. That's a guess on my part, of course, because plans are always changing and the ways of Tharnin are difficult to comprehend, but it seems logical enough."

"Then we're not actually going north?" said Jerret. He looked strangely disappointed.

"The High Council will decide, as always," said Thrake. He muttered something about being hungry, grabbed a chunk of beef, and stuffed it in his mouth. He washed it down quickly with some water and wiped his beard, looking a bit sheepish.

"The High Council might listen to you, Lannon," said Jace. "You should try to convince them that a journey north would not be in Dremlock's best interests. This will be a very critical decision for the kingdom."

Lannon didn't reply. He wanted the conversation to end so he could try to enjoy the evening. Jace was wise, but he seemed to have serious lapses in judgment now and then. Taris, on the other hand, was almost always right about everything. And if they didn't ride north and confront Vorden, Taris had no chance of survival. Lannon cringed at the thought of putting the fate of the kingdom at risk for one man, but he couldn't accept the notion of Taris dying either. He had no idea what to do, and he just wanted to forget the dilemma for one night.

Cordus Landsaver stood up and raised his arms. "The Festival of Fire has begun!" The crowd cheered. "Everyone is aware of the hardships faced by our kingdom, but tonight we shall focus only on celebration. We shall celebrate the Birlotes-the Tree Dwellers-and their great contribution to Dremlock. Without the help of the Birlotes, Dremlock might not have survived and prospered. And make no mistake-we are surviving and prospering. Before we begin the feast, Crestin Lightwielder will play one more song called The Ghosts of Borenthia.

Crestin bowed. Then he played an exceptionally haunting melody on the flute, music that seemed to make time and space disappear. Lannon closed his eyes and could envision the great Tree City where it was warm year round, a city constantly expanding as the Birlote population expanded-an ancient forest merged with bridges, huts, and even a giant wooden palace. The trees lived in harmony with the Birlotes and provided for their needs, and the Birlotes cared for the trees in return. The forest and the Tree Dwellers had merged into a single living entity that could not be easily breached by outsiders. The leaves and pine needles shielded the treetop hideouts from prying eyes, where green arrows waited unseen for any evil that walked where it didn't belong. Lannon imagined all the warm nights high above ground, the tables laden with food and the gemstone torches blazing-and he longed to dwell in that land, in the quiet shade beneath the thick forest roof where his troubles could easily be forgotten. He knew that Taris must long for it even more deeply-Taris, who lay suffering constantly in a stone building far from home, his courage unwavering. And then Lannon knew he would have to go north in spite of Jace's warning, because the courage of the Birlotes deserved that much.

Chapter 13: The Passage of Summer

But as the weeks passed, no decision was made to go north. Lannon spoke to some of the High Council members about the issue, but they seemed reluctant to discuss it. Lannon began to suspect that Jace had turned the High Council against the idea, and he found himself annoyed with the former Knight.

Meanwhile, Lannon worked on summoning and controlling the Eye of Divinity, and his skills did seem to improve. But every day he worried that he would receive news of Taris' death and wondered when, and if, they were going to seek out Vorden and the Blood Legion. None of the members of his Divine Shield seemed to want to discuss the issue either, except for Jerret, who had seemed to take on a new attitude in wanting to journey north.

Jerret was supposed to be a Blue Squire, but he continued training on his own as a Red Squire-relying on melee combat and heavy armor. With his ribs fully healed after the ordeal in the mines, he seemed suddenly obsessed with training, and the new muscles that bulged on his arms reflected that determination.

Lannon's room had been turned into a training arena complete with bulky swords, straw dummies, weights, and heavy lances. It had taken a fair amount of persuasion on Jerret's part to obtain these special items, but since he was part of the Divine Shield and needed to maintain his skills, Shennen had allowed the few accessories to be placed in the Squires' room. The problem was that the room was small, and Jerret's training was constantly getting in Lannon's way and even putting him (and Aldreya, when she was present during the days) in danger from swinging and thrusting weapons. It seemed unnecessary, and Lannon wished Jerret would simply be allowed to train with the other Squires. He'd suggested it to Shennen, but Shennen would have none of it. Shennen insisted Jerret stay with Lannon at all times, even though Jace and the Knights came and went.

Another annoying issue was that Jerret constantly pestered Lannon to spar with him, but Lannon refused, instead limiting his training to the Eye of Divinity. Thrake Wolfaxe occasionally came in to instruct Jerret (which Lannon found odd, considering that Jerret was supposed to be training as a Blue Squire). The whole thing seemed like a mess. Lannon's ears rang from the constant clatter of weapons, and even worse, Jerret insisted on talking out loud while he trained. Lannon became so frustrated with it he found himself wanting to punch Jerret in the face. Lannon was ashamed of the urge, but he couldn't help it. Every time Jerret would learn something new, he would brag about it for hours-once even gleefully shoving a burning sword dangerously close to Lannon's face while proudly announcing his weapon enchantment skills were improving.

Just when Lannon was beginning to think they would never go north, Jace strode into the room muttering to himself. He sat down on a bed next to Aldreya and glared at her. She rolled her eyes and glanced over at Jerret, who grinned back.

"What's wrong?" Aldreya finally asked.

"What's wrong?" he said, frowning down at her. "Everything is wrong, Squire! The High Council is preparing to send a large battalion north against my expert advice. I'm considering leaving Dremlock. Why should I ride to my death? That's no way to make a living. Yes, the pay has been good, but it only matters if I'm alive to spend it."

Lannon stood up, relief flooding through him. At last the long wait seemed to be over. "We're going north? When?"

"In two more weeks," said Jace. "The High Council has already voted and decided. Now I have to decide what I'm going to do."

"Two weeks?" said Lannon, his heart sinking. He wasn't sure he could take another two weeks of waiting. "Why so long?"

"The High Council wants time to prepare," said Jace. "This is going to be a major undertaking. Dremlock's spies have delivered news that makes the High Council think we can strike a great blow to the Blood Legion. Many of the Knights have been called back to Dremlock, leaving the surrounding lands unprotected. The Knights seem to be harboring some secret plan or weapon that will perhaps soon be revealed. Still, I can't help but feel it's all one huge trap."

Lannon nodded. He felt the same way, but he couldn't forget Taris' plight. "I guess we just have to trust the High Council."

Jace sneered. "Wonderful. We'll trust them right to the bitter end."

"The High Council is wise," said Aldreya. "They've earned the right to decide what's best for the kingdom. Why should we doubt them?"

Jace glared down at her again. "Because, my stubborn little friend, they likely don't know what they're talking about. So the spies have returned with news-news that the Blood Legion wanted us to learn. I believe it's all part of the ruse. But who am I to talk? I was thrown out of Dremlock and now I'm no better than a Ranger for hire. My opinion means nothing."

"True," said Aldreya, smiling.

Jace rapped her on the head lightly with his knuckles. "You weren't supposed to agree with me."

She giggled. "Sorry, but I do have faith in the Council."

"I like the decision," said Jerret, nodding as if to reassure himself. "I'm more than ready to ride north."

"You've gotten rather bold, Jerret," said Jace. "All that recent practice must have trained the wits right out of you."

Jerret shrugged. "I'm just dedicating myself to the path of Knighthood. It's a great honor to be a Squire at Dremlock. I've come to realize that."

"Perhaps," said Jace, "but common sense is never to be ignored. But I've done my best, and the decision is made. So there is no use complaining."

"You should go north with us," said Lannon. "We need you, Jace. You have skills and knowledge that are unique."

"I know you'll come with us," said Aldreya, gazing up at him. "You still love this kingdom and what it stands for."

"I must admit," said Jace, "that I would hate to abandon Dremlock in this time of great need. I'm not merely about money-I'm also waging a bit of a war myself against Tharnin. I have been for decades. If Dremlock were to fall, the entire continent would be in grave danger-maybe even the entire world. How can I turn my back on something so important?"

"Then you'll remain part of the Divine Shield?" said Lannon.

Jace sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then nodded. "Though it may cost me my life, I suppose I will ride north."

Lannon smiled. "Glad to hear it."

Aldreya punched Jace lightly in the shoulder. "Me too! I'm more than happy to have the friendliest giant in Silverland fight by my side."

Jace glared down at her, and then his face broke into a smile. "Friendly giant? Is that how you see me? And here I thought I was intimidating."

Aldreya laughed. "Hardly."

"Maybe you can write a book," said Lannon, "about the journey north. I'm sure there will be plenty of adventure to tell of."

"I'm done writing books," Jace muttered. "And I have no urge at all to write one concerning my journey to the Bonefrost Mountains, for that book would likely go unfinished when I fail to survive the trap that awaits us."

"Have faith," said Aldreya, punching him again on the shoulder. "Friendly giants don't act so grumpy and pessimistic."

Jace winked at her, but his face remained sullen.

"Two weeks," Lannon mumbled. "What will we do with ourselves during that time?"

"Train, of course," said Jerret, seizing a sword from a rack.

Lannon groaned.

***

Timlin's journey north was not pleasant. He wasn't used to such extensive riding, and he quickly grew sore in the saddle. The Soldiers were rude to him on the few occasions when they bothered to speak to him at all, and he was given a small amount of stale food that failed to satisfy his hunger. He slept in the open with no blanket and lay shivering under his cloak.

As they drew near to the Western Bloodlands, the weather turned foul-with fog and cold rain. Timlin developed a wretched cold that proved difficult to get rid of, and he spent all day coughing and sneezing. Then one of the men spotted an Elder Hawk through the mist, and they accused Timlin of being pursued by Dremlock spies. They even went as far as to suggest he might be a spy. Timlin protested vigorously, insisting truthfully that he'd never seen the hawk before, but the men would have none of it. Timlin was booted off his horse and left standing in the muddy road, with no food and no blanket. He called out desperately to the men that he was innocent, but they didn't even bother to glance back.

Timlin watched in despair as the riders moved off down the road, wondering how far he still had to go or even if the Legion Council would still hear his words. He was terribly frustrated with himself for wasting his opportunity at Dremlock and bringing suffering upon himself once again. For a moment, his feet seemed to lose the will to carry him onward to Blombalk Fortress, as he considered just trying to find a town and earn a living however he could. But that future seemed so bleak that he finally forced himself onward in the direction of the Council. He thought it might be better to die trying to join the Blood Legion than to live slaving away at some wretched job just to keep food in his belly.

Timlin took to hunting with his bow. He was a poor hunter, having left Dremlock before being taught any wilderness survival skills, but his stealth and aim soon made him better at the craft. He shot a deer but had no idea how to clean it, so he simply took what meat he could. He built a crude lean-to in the woods out of sticks, started a fire with help from his burning dagger, and roasted some of the meat. It had an excessive charred taste but filled him up.

By means of hunting, stealing spring vegetables from gardens, and finding water in streams, Timlin was able to continue north on foot. He met people on horseback along the road-some who were traveling in his direction but who refused to give him a ride for whatever reason.

At one point, Timlin picked up an illness after eating mushrooms that were growing by a stagnant pond. He knew it was a sickness of the Deep Shadow that would not be easy to get rid of even with his Knightly healing skills. He wandered around in a daze for a while, before ending up on a farm. The farmer took Timlin in and put him to work, while allowing the former Squire plenty of rest to battle his illness.

Nevertheless, it took Timlin all summer long to fight off the sickness. The farmer, who was a kind and lonely man, had grown to think of Timlin like a son over the weeks and wanted him to remain. But Timlin never learned to love farm work, and his thoughts were always on the Blood Legion and a more exciting way of life. Although the farmer was like the good father Timlin had been deprived of in his youth, the lad could not escape the feeling that a greater purpose awaited him.

At last Timlin bid the farmer farewell and found himself back on the road to Blombalk Fortress, as the leaves were changing color and a chill had found its way into the air. He was fully healed, well fed, and ready to face his destiny-which he hoped wouldn't involve the Legion Knights cutting off his head.

But as the journey stretched on, Timlin found himself tired, hungry, and miserable again. He begged occasional travelers for food or transportation, but they always looked at him with suspicion and declined. Timlin was growing increasingly angry over it, wondering if he should resort to threats to get someone to help him. Even though he'd betrayed Dremlock, the kingdom's teachings were still echoing in his mind, making it hard for him to resort to anything as dishonorable as forcing someone to serve his needs at the point of bow or dagger-but his anger was beginning to push him to defy those teachings.

Finally a man came along pulling a long wagon. He was a stocky Grey Dwarf with a scarred face. From the moment he saw Timlin, he showed grave concern for the lad's welfare. "You look in dire need of assistance!" he called out to Timlin from the wagon. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"

The Olrog looked somewhat like Furlus, reminding Timlin of how much he missed Dremlock in some ways. Timlin grinned in response. "I would be very grateful if I could ride in your wagon. I'm on my way to Blombalk Fortress on the edge of the Western Bloodlands."

The Dwarf frowned. "Blombalk Fortress, you say? Well, that is a Blood Legion stronghold, so I'm guessing you're a Legion Soldier. Anyway, I have no problem with your kind at all. I would gladly let you ride."

"I don't belong to the Legion," said Timlin. "At least, not yet. I'm going there to meet with the Legion Council and ask to join."

The Dwarf smiled. "Ah, a young hopeful." He looked Timlin up and down. "I'm guessing you're skilled in battle, then."

"I was trained at Dremlock," said Timlin, not caring if the man knew the truth. "I know a thing or two about combat."

"And the Knights are not pursuing you?" the Dwarf asked, glancing along the trail and into the woods. A nervous shadow seemed to creep over his face for an instant.

"Not at all," said Timlin. "They'll give me no trouble. Well, not until I join the Legion anyway. Then I suppose they'll want to kill me. It doesn't matter. I have no family to worry about. I'm not afraid to die."

"So you're pretty much alone, then," said the Dwarf, a strange glint in his eye. He quickly added, "So it definitely looks like you'll be needing a ride."

"Just show me where I can sit," said Timlin. "My feet are quite sore."

"My name is Tolus," said the Dwarf, climbing down from his horse. He extended his meaty hand and Timlin's shook it.

His smile put Timlin at ease, and all Timlin could think about was sitting down in the wagon and relaxing.

Tolus led Timlin to the back of the enclosed wagon that was made of thick oak planks. A double door in the rear of the wagon was secured with a plank. "You want to lift the plank?" Tolus asked. "My shoulder is wretchedly sore."

"Of course," Timlin said eagerly. He seized the plank and lifted it. Suddenly, his arms were yanked behind him and the plank fell to the ground. He tried to struggle, but the Dwarf's strength was too much for him. Tolus bound Timlin's wrists tightly in rope and removed his weapons.

Timlin groaned. "What are you doing, Tolus? I have no money."

"This isn't a robbery," said Tolus, turning Timlin about to face him.

Timlin tired to speak, but Tolus shoved a dirty, calloused finger against Timlin's lips. "Just keep quiet, lad, or I'll snap your scrawny neck. You do as you're told, you can have a good life. Understand?"

Timlin nodded, wondering what new madness had befallen him. It seemed he'd been cursed ever since leaving Dremlock-maybe as some divine punishment for wasting a grand opportunity. The will seemed drained from him, and he simply waited for Tolus to tell him of his fate.

"We're going north to Rogue Haven," said Tolus. "There, you will fight in the arena for the amusement of the crowds. If you do well, you get paid well-and you are supplied with hearty food. It's all up to you, Timlin."

Timlin's face turned crimson with rage. "The Knights of Dremlock would never allow such a practice as you describe. This is slavery!"

"You're wrong," said Tolus. "Rogue Haven is a place the Knights pay no need to. It is considered to exist outside of Silverland. The name Rogue Haven kind of says it all, don't you think? And what do you care how the Knights of Dremlock feel about slavery? You betrayed them."

"I'll kill you!" Timlin snarled.

Growling like bear, Tolus spun him around roughly and shoved him into the wagon. "You should thank me for this, lad. The Legion would have no dealings with a little man like you. They would have killed you. Now at least you have a chance to earn a good living-if you can stay alive. Enjoy the ride!"

Tolus slammed the wagon doors.

Chapter 14: The Intruder

When the gathering of Knights finally assembled before the North Tower on a warm fall day, it was nearly two months after Jace had informed Lannon of the Council's decision. Lannon had been overwhelmed with the desire to start the journey, pacing about restlessly during the day and unable to sleep much at night. He'd been unable to focus on his training. The one thing that brought him peace of mind was that Taris' condition didn't seem to be getting any worse. The Tower Master's spirit remained strong, even if his body seemed terribly weak.

At last, the battalion was formed and ready to depart. It was a spectacular sight. The bulk of it consisted of two-hundred and twenty Knights on horseback. The banners of Dremlock Kingdom and the Divine Essence flapped in the fall breeze, while magnificent armor gleamed in the sunlight. There were sixty Red Knights with heavy lances-the battalion's front line-and forty Brown Knights, all swordsman who, unlike the Red Knights, carried shields. Also present were twenty Blue Knights, twenty White Knights brought along strictly for their healing skills, and sixty archers with pale, rune-covered longbows. And there were twenty Birlote sorcerers as well. Mixed in with this huge battalion were a number of siege engines in the care of the Brown Knights, including catapults and a giant crossbow. There were also a dozen Rangers hired for their hunting and tracking skills, fourteen White Wolves, and six Elder Hawks-spies of Dremlock.

Aside from that, all of the remaining members of Lannon's Divine Shield were present. Trenton Shadowbane, now a member of the Divine Shield, was also present much to the dismay of many of the Knights who didn't like the Investigator and typically avoided him. Furlus Goblincrusher-now fully healed aside from a permanent limp-commanded the battalion.

Lannon, Jerret, and Aldreya sat with wide eyes as they beheld the gathering. Everywhere the Squires looked they saw shining armor and weapons, grim faces, and the blazing colors of Dremlock. This was their first glimpse of real war, and it seemed deathly serious. This magnificent battalion was being dispatched in service of the Divine Essence to save the kingdom from foes that seemed to be growing ever more powerful. Dremlock had never lost a war in its long history, even when vastly outnumbered. With the power of sorcery to aid them, the Divine Knights had always triumphed. Dremlock was one of the smaller kingdoms on the continent of Gallamerth-but it was also the most feared and respected. Every king and lord knew that when Dremlock chose to act, it was serious business. Only the Blood Legion, aligned with the Deep Shadow and users of sorcery themselves, posed a dire threat to the survival of the Divine Knights.

The Squires were overwhelmed with feelings of pride and loyalty-and deep uncertainty. They wondered what would happen if this army failed, whether or not Dremlock could endure such a loss. Dremlock chose its recruits with extreme care, and fallen Knights were not easily replaced.

"Servants of the Divine Essence," Cordus said loudly, raising his hands toward the gathering. "You go north with the blessing of the White Knights, for it was Vesselin Hopebringer himself who was shown in a dream what we believe is the correct path to take. The Divine Essence spoke to Vesselin and told him that our fate would be decided in the Bonefrost Mountains."

Vesselin stepped from the crowd of onlookers and bowed to Cordus, his long white hair and beard blowing in the breeze. He looked incredibly old in the bright sunlight, his face crisscrossed with countless lines and wrinkles.

"Some of you may wonder if you are riding into a trap," Cordus went on. "You wonder if the Blood Legion has some horrific surprise waiting for you. While I cannot reveal all that we know, rest assured that the highest ranking Knights among you are well informed of the risks. Knowledge and wisdom our are allies, and there is no doubt that we will triumph!"

The crowd cheered.

"The Divine Essence has also spoken to me," said Cordus. "It has given its blessing to this quest-by offering a piece of itself. It has created a White Flamestone that will be a light that will guide this army through the darkness!" Cordus reached into his cloak and held up a pale, burning piece of crystal. His hand seemed filled with radiant light. The crowd gasped in amazement.

"With the White Flamestone to guide us," Cordus went on, "we cannot possibly lose this war. I now offer this to a young man-the most promising Squire that Dremlock has seen in ages, the future of this kingdom."

Lannon tensed up, certain he was going to be handed the White Flamestone. He gazed at it eagerly, wondering how it would feel to hold a living piece of the Divine Essence. But then he noticed that Cordus was looking at someone else.

"I now ask," Cordus went on, "that this incredibly gifted lad-a prince of Borenthia no less-come forward and receive the White Flamestone. It was the will of the Divine Essence that he alone should bear it. Now, Vannas Greenrune, come and take this wondrous blessing!"

A tall, handsome Birlote Squire emerged from the crowd, grinning with delight. He waved to everyone, then hurried to Cordus and held out his cupped hands. He wore the lightweight, green and gold, rune-engraved armor of an archer, and a bow was slung across his back.

Cordus smiled. "You will bring hope to Dremlock, Vannas. At last we have gained an advantage over our foes. As the Bearer of the White Flamestone, you are now the most important servant of Dremlock-more important even than myself. Your survival is vital, your fate bound to the fate of Dremlock. You will join the other Squires, protected at all times by a Divine Shield."

Vannas bowed, then turned to the crowd and raised the Flamestone. The gathering erupted into cheers and clapping. Vannas smiled, a look of such confidence on his face it made Lannon cringe. In one sweeping moment, Lannon's status as the most important person at Dremlock has been torn away. He couldn't help but feel immediate jealously toward Vannas.

"Prince Vannas is my cousin!" Aldreya said, beaming at Lannon. "He is a great warrior. I'm sure he will bring much honor to Dremlock."

Lannon nodded and mumbled, "I'm sure he will." In spite of his jealously, Lannon hoped the White Flamestone would give Dremlock the edge it needed to save Vorden and Taris.

"What a remarkable turn of events," said Jace. "The Divine Essence has given up a piece of itself to ensure the survival of Dremlock. I don't recall anything like this ever happening before. Frankly, I'm stunned!"

"It is my greatest honor," Prince Vannas called out, "to have been chosen to bear this mighty gift-this weapon of all weapons. Now the shadows will flee before us like the night before the rising sun!"

Cordus handed Vannas a black pouch to hold the White Flamestone and motioned for him to join Lannon and his friends. Then he took to reading a few passages from The Book of War-peaceful poetry in spite of the book's name that was meant to soothe and inspire. However, The Book of War was badly written to the point of being laughable:

"Peace, Or No Peace?

by Talm Fireleg

A Leaf reaches out, to touch a like-veined heart,

For the Tree of honor gives peace, where no peace was found,

The Knight's brow is caked with sweat, the yellow frosting of toil,

His Soul overly baked and boiled, a cake makers bungled lament,

The eternal Boughs give shade so rest, a cool leaf to wipe your brow,

To forge the peaceful Mind…"

Someone in the crowd snickered and Cordus glared at them, before continuing on. The Book of War was an embarrassment-written in an age when bad poetry was held in high regard. Most of the poems were written by Knights who had far more skill with the blade than the pen.

Vannas strode over to the Squires and nodded to Aldreya. "I see I'm in good company, my cousin. Now if only I had a horse!"

Aldreya smiled. "I am in awe of you, cousin. The Divine Essence has truly blessed you. I would gladly surrender my horse to you."

"And I would refuse it," said Vannas. "To date, you've done far more for Dremlock than I have."

"Good to meet you," Jerret mumbled. He didn't appear impressed at all by the prince. He sat slouched in the saddle, his muscular arms folded across his chest. All Jerret seemed to care about was his training. It was an obsession that had grown to consume him-as if he were preparing for some great duel to the death and nothing else in life mattered. He'd gone from being a talented and lazy Squire to someone who could barely bring himself to rest.

"Glad to have you along, Vannas," said Lannon, sitting taller in the saddle. Vannas turned and his eyes passed over Lannon and kept going. Lannon squirmed a bit, wondering if Vannas had failed to hear him or was ignoring him.

"You must be Jace the Wanderer," said the prince, nodding to the tall man. "One of my protectors, and a fine warrior from what I've heard."

"Lannon's Divine Shield," said Jace, "is now your Divine Shield as well. I was told you would be joining us. However, I had no idea you would be bearing such a great gift. Actually, I'm surprised Cordus choose to reveal it publicly. Now our foes will surely learn of it, taking away our element of surprise."

Vannas smiled. "The High Council hopes our foes will be intimidated. Meanwhile, the true power of the White Flamestone remains hidden from them." He lowered his voice and added, "And, well, the Blood Legion spies found out about it rather quickly, unfortunately."

Jace nodded. "As usual."

Cordus started another poem:

"Smell The Flowers, Not The Trolls

by Blande Barrelchest

The War is blue, no it is green,

The Wind sings true, but our foes are liars,

The Dawn comes bright, to nag the tainted soul,

But the peaceful Soul is not nagged…"

People in the crowd glanced at each other in amusement. Sadly, it was a Lord Knight's duty and tradition to read poems from The Book of War when an army of Knights was leaving Dremlock.

Vannas nodded to Lannon. "Good to meet you as well, Lannon Sunshield. I've heard of your deeds, and I'm impressed by them."

Lannon bowed. "Thank you, Vannas."

A white horse-one of the finest in Dremlock-was led over for Vannas. He swung smoothly into the saddle, then smiled at Lannon. "I suspect we will become good friends. I pledge to guard your back."

"And I pledge to guard yours," Lannon said. He still felt a bit of jealously, but Vannas had put him at ease. Lannon was grateful that someone else would now share his terrible burden.

Vannas seemed engulfed in an aura of importance, and Lannon couldn't help but immediately think of him as a leader. That aura bordered on arrogance yet commanded great respect.

"Would you address me as Prince Vannas henceforth?" He winked at Lannon. "One stipulation of my coming to Dremlock is that I'm allowed to retain my title and be addressed with respect."

Lannon was overcome for a moment by annoyance and couldn't speak. Then he found his voice. "Of course, Prince Vannas."

"Thank you, my friend," said the prince. He smiled at Aldreya. "You may still address me as cousin if you like. I find it charming."

"Glad to have you along, Vannas," said Shennen. "The gift you bear gives me hope that we will survive our journey north."

"We will do more than survive," said Vannas. "I promise you that we will utterly vanquish our foes. The power I bear is stronger than anything you can imagine. It makes Lannon's Eye of Divinity seem like a magician's cheap illusion. This is a new day for Dremlock."

Lannon wondered why Shennen didn't have to refer to him as Prince Vannas, and his annoyance grew. Also, he felt like Vannas had just tried to diminish Lannon's importance. It was a petty thought, but it nagged Lannon nonetheless. He felt as if he had just been slapped in the face. Yet Vannas likely spoke the truth. How long had the Birlote prince been training in secrecy to wield the White Flamestone, and just how powerful was the device? A gift from the Divine Essence surely had to be extraordinary. Lannon was certain the answers would be revealed on their journey, as he fully expected ambushes and assassination attempts.

It was another two hours before the army departed and at last rode off through Darkender Tunnel to the sounds of battle horns that rang out from the Great Wall. As they made their way down the mountain, the parade of Knights received many cheers from gathered crowds along the road. Everyone in Silverland and the lands beyond knew that Dremlock was going to war. Every king and lord was on edge, their spies out gathering information.

Vannas rode next to Lannon, and the prince spent much time waving to people. Feeling overshadowed, Lannon took to waving as well. But Lannon didn't feel comfortable drawing attention to himself, so he stopped. Lannon reminded himself that he was not a prince and wasn't required to act like one.

"What a grand day this is, my friend," Vannas said to Lannon. "Can you feel it in your blood? We ride for the fate of Dremlock!"

"Yes, it is exciting," said Lannon, though his tone was subdued. He wanted to feel what Vannas was feeling, but the thought of riding north and confronting Vorden and the Blood Legion terrified him. Also, with Vannas now wielding some great power from the Divine Essence, Lannon actually feared for Vorden's life. Lannon had been hoping to free Vorden of the gauntlet and bring the device back to Dremlock. But Vannas would surely attempt to kill Vorden. The impending situation put a heavy burden on Lannon's shoulders. Vannas was a Birlote prince and a warrior who fought for honor. He would gleefully use his power to slay Dremlock's foes. But for Lannon it wasn't that simple. He was always seeking a way to save everyone, even when he knew it was impossible to do so. It left him weary to the core.

And if Vannas and his mysterious White Flamestone weren't enough, the massive army of Divine Knights was bent on bloodshed. The reality was that they weren't going on this quest to save Vorden and Taris-but to strike a terrible blow to the Blood Legion. This was strictly a war party, and the only topic on the agenda was bitter combat. Lannon was certain, however, that Furlus Goblincrusher was thinking of his friend and fellow Tower Master Taris Warhawk and would do everything in his power to return the Hand of Tharnin to Dremlock.

It was a pleasant day for riding, with the soothing fall breeze taking the edge off the heat. The Knights seemed in good spirits, chatting and laughing, their colored sashes, banners, and armor matching the fall leaves around them. They followed the trail to the base of the mountain and then took Boulder Road that led north through a wooded valley. The scent of pine filled the valley air. Lannon was certain the Knights' confidence stemmed from acquiring the White Flamestone. He knew his own confidence had increased since Dremlock's new weapon had been revealed. With the Divine Essence firmly on their side, surely they couldn't lose. How could their foes, (the Hand of Tharnin on their side or not) stand against the power of a god?

That evening, after leaving the wooded valley they camped in a large, grassy field by the road. Many watch fires were lit, over which fresh meat was roasted. These northern lands were sparsely inhabited by people, and wildlife was everywhere. With a dozen Rangers to hunt for them, fresh meat was easy to come by.

Lannon, Vannas, and the Divine Shield were gathered around one fire, along with Furlus (who seemed to consume more meat than the rest of the Divine Shield put together). The mood was festive-almost as if they were going to some grand celebration rather than war with an ancient enemy.

"We have a bard with us somewhere," said Furlus, wiping grease from his beard. "Bazil Bearpaw. Shall I summon him for some entertainment? Tonight, we will not speak of anything concerning our mission. Tonight we celebrate."

Trenton chewed at a small piece of meat and took a sip of water. "I don't like Bazil. I find him quite annoying."

"You would!" said Furlus, scowling at the Investigator. "No sense of humor. None at all. When is the last time you had a good laugh?"

Trenton glowered at the Grey Dwarf, but said nothing.

"He's a fine bard," said Shennen. "I'll go and find him." The Blue Knight rose, a lean shadow in the firelight. "I want to scout around a bit, anyway."

"Relax, Shennen," said Furlus. "Sit, and have some food and drink. No threat exists here, amongst all of these Knights."

Hesitantly, Shennen did as Furlus ordered, his face sullen. He grabbed an apple from a bowl and crunched into it, yet his eyes gazed restlessly beyond the firelight.

"What's bothering you, my friend?" Furlus asked.

"I don't know," said Shennen. "I feel like something is watching us-perhaps from the night sky."

Furlus waved his hand dismissively. "It could be a Blood Legion spy. What does it matter? We're going to war. Let them spy on us all they want and prepare a thousand ambushes. Our own spies will guide us through to victory. They want war, they expect war, and war is what they will get!"

Shennen nodded. "True enough. But whatever I am sensing still troubles me. I…I have been on edge since Willan's death."

Furlus bowed his head, a look of pity on his face. "You need to quit blaming yourself for that. Both you and Willan thought it was the right choice. I might have made the same choice. It's just the way of things."

"I care not to speak of this," said Shennen, his face reddening a bit. "Especially in front of the Squires. I shouldn't have brought up the subject."

"Then shut your mouth and eat," said Furlus.

"I need my mouth open to eat," said Shennen, managing a smile. He seized a flask of ale. "Let's celebrate then. Where's that bard?"

Furlus chuckled and patted Shennen on the back. "Hey Bard!" he bellowed. "Get over here!"

"Why don't we have a duel?" said Jerret, standing up. "We could fashion some wooden swords from sticks and have a contest."

"Predictable request," said Trenton, "from a Squire who doesn't seem to know how to take a break from training."

Jerret shrugged. "Aren't Squires supposed to train?"

"In a reasonable fashion, yes," said Trenton. "Not like some obsessed fool. I think you've let this Divine Shield business overcome your common sense. I should give you a duel and leave you with a healthy bruise for your troubles."

Jerret rolled his eyes. "Anyway, who wants to have a duel-other than a Green Knight who would obviously be too much for me to handle?"

Trenton sneered and mumbled "Coward."

Jerret winced at the insult, but said nothing. It was clear that in spite of his new confidence, Jerret feared the Investigator. Aside from being a Green Knight, Trenton also harbored the bizarre ability to transform into a raging wolf monster.

"Jerret isn't a coward, Trenton," said Furlus, slapping the ground. His grey eyes, set beneath his drooping brows, twinkled with amusement. "Look at him standing there fearlessly, ready for combat! Someone should give him his duel. What about you, Jace? I think you could use some practice."

"I would rather eat, smoke my pipe, and go to sleep," said Jace, yawning. "So count me out of any duels."

Vannas grinned. "I wouldn't mind a duel. What about you, Lannon?"

Lannon shrugged. "I'm not much for that sort of thing."

"I think it's a good idea," said Furlus, winking. He called some Rangers over and sent them to gather sticks from a nearby stretch of woods.

Jerret tied his long blond hair back in a ponytail and then stretched his muscles, grinning. "I'll take on anywhere here, including the Knights!" He glanced nervously at Trenton. "Except for the Green Knights, of course."

Shennen laughed. "So you would battle me as well, Jerret? I'm not yet a Green Knight. And how do you think you would fare?"

"Not very well," said Jerret, still grinning.

That brought out booming laughter from everyone.

"But I think I can handle any Squire with ease," said Jerret. "And some of the Knights too. I'm serious."

Vannas rose. The Birlote prince stood several inches taller than Jerret. "Is that so? I know a thing or two about swordplay, so perhaps it would not be as easy to defeat me as you think. I would be happy to partake in a duel with you."

"No, not you," Furlus muttered, motioning for Vannas to sit. "Can't risk you taking a blow to the head should Jerret get carried away. You either, Lannon. Anyone else is welcome to give it a try. The winner gets a flask of high quality Olrog ale. Of course, if the Squire wins, he has to wait until he is a Knight to drink it."

"Olrog ale?" said Jerret. "That's worth fighting for!"

The Rangers returned and tossed some sword-sticks on the ground. A large circle of onlookers soon formed around the fire.

Jerret lifted a heavy stick and looked around. "So who will it be?"

A young, arrogant Brown Knight named Melran Lighthammer stepped forward to cheers from the onlookers. He tossed his shield aside. He was a few years older than Jerret, but about the same size. "With all due respect, Jerret," Melran said, "no Squire can beat a fully trained Knight. Not in fair combat. But if you want to learn a lesson, I'm ready to teach it!"

The onlookers boomed laughter.

"An undersized Brownie and an oversized Squire," mused Thrake Wolfaxe, raising his ale flask. "I think it's a perfect match."

"You'll likely get your head smashed in, Jerret," said Furlus, chuckling. "I admire your spirit, but Melran is right. You're not experienced enough or strong enough to defeat a Divine Knight."

Jerret's lips tightened. "We'll see about that."

The sword-sticks clattered together several times, as Squire and Knight circled each other. Jerret took a blow to the leg that made him hop, but he stayed on his feet. Melran sighed and seemed to lower his guard, as if Jerret were not worth his time. Jerret lunged in and caught Melran with a solid blow to the shoulder that drove the arrogant look off his face.

Melran's eyes widened. "Oh, so you want to make this a little more serious, huh?" His face red with embarrassment and anger, he launched a flurry of blows at Jerret. Jerret blocked all but one that glanced off his arm.

Again they circled each other, sweat dripping from their brows, and now Melran was alert to Jerret's skill and in full defensive posture.

"You're looking a bit scared, Melran," Jerret mocked. "I can see it in your eyes."

The onlookers roared laughter.

Melran's face twisted into a sneer. "Keeping talking, Squire. When all is said and done, you're going to have some shiny new bruises."

They clashed again, trying to overpower each other with brute strength. Knights were typically much stronger than Squires, but Jerret managed to push Melran backwards a bit. For a moment, Melran looked horrified at the prospect that Jerret might defeat him-a shame that was certain to torment him for a long time.

Then a new light sprang into Melran's eyes-a light of power that further separated Knights from Squires. Now charged with sorcery, Melran drove Jerret back and knocked his legs out from under him. Jerret started to rise, and Melran raised the stick for a downward swing, his face contorted with rage.

"Enough!" Furlus muttered. "Jerret fought well."

Melran bowed to Furlus and helped Jerret to his feet. Even though he'd lost, Jerret had a broad grin on his face. "Get a bit more than you bargained for, Melran? I'm guessing you weren't expecting that, right?"

Melran nodded and managed a smile. "You've done well with your training, Jerret. You'll make a fine Knight."

They clasped hands.

"It was a good duel," said Furlus, "but that's enough for tonight. Melran gets the ale. But, Jerret, you should be proud of yourself."

Jerret nodded and wiped sweat from his face. "Thank you, Master Furlus. I just wanted to test myself. I knew I was going to lose."

Furlus' face darkened. He pointed at Jerret. "Don't ever assume you will lose, Squire, no matter what foe you face." He took a huge swig of ale and half of it ran down his beard. He cursed.

Jerret bowed. "I'll bear that in mind, Master Furlus."

"You fought well, Jerret," said Aldreya.

"Yes, nicely done," said Lannon.

"I'm impressed by your skill, Jerret," said Vannas. "However, I'm still convinced I would have defeated you."

Jerret nodded. "Maybe so, Prince Vannas. But you're not the one I want to defeat." His eyes seemed distant. "The one I must defeat…"

"What do you mean?" said Lannon, suddenly feeling chilled.

But Jerret didn't reply.

Loud snoring reached their ears from Jace. The giant, cloaked man had been sound asleep through the duel, and his ale flask had tipped over.

***

Later that evening, when the Knights seemed to be sleeping and only the Squires remained awake by the fire, Vannas took the White Flamestone from its black pouch and held it up. The radiant glow engulfed the campsite, causing people to stir, and he quickly cupped his hands around it to diminish the light. "The key to our victory," he said, his green eyes shining with their own fire.

"Be careful, Prince Vannas," said Lannon, glancing about nervously. "Perhaps you should keep it concealed."

Vannas glared at him, his devilish Birlote features making his handsome face look sinister. "Don't be jealous of this magnificent gift, my friend. And I assure you that no foe can remove this from my hand. It is almost…a part of me now. It's something you cannot understand."

"I'm not jealous," Lannon mumbled, his face growing red. "I'm just being cautious."

"I think my cousin knows his business," said Aldreya. "I'm guessing he has been trained extensively in the use of the Flamestone."

"I have," said Vannas, his voice full of pride. "I know this device like you know your sword, Lannon. And it knows me."

"Overconfidence is a wretched weakness," said Jerret, poking a stick at the fire and sending up sparks. "It can consume you."

Vannas' eyes widened. "I find that rather insulting, Jerret. I am a Prince of Borenthia, yet you dare accuse me of overconfidence?"

"You're just a Squire at Dremlock," said Jerret, "unless I'm mistaken. A very important one, yes, but still a Squire."

"Don't be a fool," said Vannas, rising to his feet with a menacing look on his face. He put the White Flamestone away and balled up his fist. "You are still required to respect me as royalty. You fought well earlier, but now you make a fool of yourself, Jerret Dragonsbane."

"Vannas is correct," said Aldreya. "You're being quite rude, Jerret. My cousin was called upon by the Divine Essence for a great purpose."

"Sure," said Jerret, sneering, "and Birlotes know all about rudeness. Every word that comes out of a Birlote's mouth is rude."

"Taris, who might die soon, is a Birlote," said Lannon, hoping to shame Jerret into silence. "And Taris has always been kind to you, Jerret."

"I feel bad about Taris," said Jerret, looking a bit sheepish. "I'm just saying that we shouldn't be overconfident. And I have a destiny too, by the way-one I take very seriously. I'm not a prince, and the Divine Essence didn't bless me with any great gift, but I have a purpose on this journey nonetheless."

They fell silent for a moment. Vannas' anger seemed to diminish at Jerret's words. He extended his hand. "I can respect your belief in your destiny, Jerret, whatever it may be. I offer you my hand and ask only for respect in return."

Aldreya nodded to Jerret, her face tense. "The prince offers his hand. I strongly suggest you accept it."

"Let's just try to get along," said Lannon, wishing they weren't acting like fools when so much was at stake. "We're all part of this Divine Shield or what have you. We need to be friends."

Sighing, Jerret rose and accepted the handshake. "Okay, I've got your back…Prince Vannas."

"And I have yours, Jerret Dragonsbane," Vannas said, smiling.

"Good," said Lannon. "Now maybe we can get some sleep."

But a lean shadow suddenly appeared next to Jerret. It was Shennen, and he squatted down, his hand on Jerret's shoulder. "I'm glad you accepted the prince's gesture of friendship," he said in a low voice. "Well done, Squire."

"Thank you, Master Shennen," said Jerret, looking nervous.

"But…I am concerned with you," said Shennen. "You seem to have a habit of insulting Birlotes because you cannot understand our ways. I realize you're just a young man and that young people act like fools. However, you go too far with it. Yes, I am greatly concerned with you…"

Jerret started to protest, but Shennen clamped a hand over his mouth. "Don't talk, Jerret. Just listen very carefully."

Trembling, Jerret nodded.

"I'm getting rather weary," Shennen went on, whispering in Jerret's ear, "of these insults. Don't think I don't overhear things even when a door is closed, or that people don't report things to me that they hear. I know you frequently speak ill of my race. I realize you're part of the Divine Shield, and by Dremlock law, that makes you important. But I'm going to step beyond my rank a bit and warn you that you had better watch what you say about Birlotes henceforth-because I might be listening from the shadows. Is that clearly understood?"

Again, Jerret nodded, his face tense.

Shennen slipped back into the shadows. The Squires glanced at each other in relief, except for Aldreya, who seemed delighted by what had happened. She smiled at Jerret, who looked away in humiliation.

***

Over the next couple of days, the weather turned wretched. They were nearing the Northern Bloodlands, where bad weather was common, but it was also fall and deep into the rainy season. Cold rain poured down until the entire army was soaking wet and miserable. But they kept riding at a stout pace.

When they glimpsed the Mother Trees of the Bloodlands in the distance, it was nearing evening and still raining hard. Everyone was tired of riding, and some of the Knights had taken ill. They erected tents in a field and camped.

The tents were fairly large, and all of the Squires were able to fit inside one of them. Aldreya was permitted to sleep in the same tent as the boys, as space was limited and they wanted the Squires to remain together. They lit a lantern and sat on their blankets, listening to the rain beat down on the roof.

"What a wretched day it has been," said Jerret. "Wet clothes. Wet blanket. My pack was supposed to keep out the rain, but it didn't. How are we supposed to dry out when we can't even build a fire?"

Aldreya smiled as she wrung out her hair. "Aren't you supposed to be a Squire of Dremlock, Jerret? You should never be without fire." She channeled her sorcery into her dagger and made it burn, then slowly ran it over her clothes. "This will take some time, but it should do the task."

"Careful not to set our tent ablaze, cousin," said Vannas, winking at her. He unsheathed his own dagger and followed Aldreya's lead.

"I can't control the fire with such precision," said Jerret, gazing at them with envy. "I would just burn my clothing."

"I can't do it either," said Lannon. Actually, Lannon couldn't produce fire at all. His sorcery practice sessions had been limited to the Eye of Divinity, and as far as Lannon knew, the Eye did not generate heat.

"I'll gladly do it for you, my friend," said Vannas, "once my own clothing is dry. There is no reason any of us should suffer such discomfort."

"Thank you," said Lannon, thinking that Vannas was turning out to be a fine companion.

"Will you dry my clothing, Aldreya?" Jerret asked.

"Are you speaking in jest?" said Aldreya, with a laugh.

Jerret's face turned red. "No, I was just asking for your help. But forget I said anything."

Aldreya sighed. "Yes, I will dry your clothing, Jerret. But you should learn to control your sorcery."

"I'm trying," said Jerret, shrugging.

"Yes, you are trying hard," said Aldreya. "I'll give you that."

Eventually, Vannas and Aldreya had dried out everything in the tent. The tent itself was waterproof, and so conditions within became comfortable. The Squires ate jerky, cheese, and cake that had stayed dry thanks to careful wrapping. They had tea to drink (which was heated by dagger point).

Shennen popped his head in, rain dripping down his face. "Just checking to make sure everyone is dry and has food. I'm going to my tent to dry out and eat, and I'm leaving Buke Songblade to stand guard."

"Yes, by all means have a break, Master Shennen," said Vannas. "You've earned it. And we're obviously safe enough amidst an army of Divine Knights."

Shennen nodded and withdrew, sealing the tent door.

Moments later, Jace strode in and sat down, his cloak damp from having moved between tents. Immediately, Aldreya hurried over to dry him. Jace smiled and pinched her cheek. "What would I do without my favorite Squire?"

"Sit there waterlogged?" Aldreya answered, pinching him back.

Jace chuckled and lit up his pipe. He looked especially large in the tent.

"What brings you here?" asked Vannas. "Just a friendly visit?"

"Of course not," said Jace. "Though I'm fond of all you Squires, I would rather be sleeping right now. No, I've come to give you a dire warning."

Aldreya drew back at his somber tone, the fire diminishing in her dagger. "A dire warning?"

"You heard me," said Jace, gazing at her sternly. "I am growing increasingly convinced that we are in fact riding into some extraordinary trap that we can't even imagine. My feeling is that the Blood Legion does not fear us and is well prepared to deal with us. The Knights won't hear of it-especially Furlus, who is far too stubborn to listen to a banished Knight like myself."

"Are you sure you're not giving in to irrational fears, Uncle Jace?" said Aldreya. "The Knights have knowledge they won't share with you."

"Uncle Jace?" said Vannas, laughing. "He's clearly not one of us, dear cousin. Not that Jace isn't a wise man and a fine warrior, from what I've heard."

Jerret rolled his eyes. "Uncle Jace? That's silly, Aldreya."

"I consider it an honor," said Jace, winking. "Anyway, this is not about fear. I want you Squires to be truly prepared for what lies ahead."

"We are prepared," said Vannas, producing the black pouch that held the White Flamestone. "Remember, we now have the greatest weapon in all the land. Even the mighty Hand of Tharnin must shatter before it."

Jace ran his fingers through his curly black hair and sighed, looking utterly distraught. "Overconfidence is the doom of all warriors, my good prince. As each day passes, I wonder just how bitter an end we are facing."

Vannas' face reddened. "I realize you are not a Knight, Jace-that in fact you were expelled from the Order. You may not feel obligated to show me respect, but I am still a Prince of Borenthia. I strongly question your judgment in calling me overconfident. How can I have too much confidence when I hold this?"

Vannas withdrew the White Flamestone from the pouch, and a pale, piercing glow filled the tent. "This is power above all of Tharnin!"

Jace turned, as if to shield his eyes. "Nonsense, lad. It is a powerful weapon, yes. But the war against the Deep Shadow has raged for centuries. Even the greatest piece of the White Guardian-the Crimson Flamestone-did not destroy the Eye of Tharnin. The great beast lives on and possibly always will."

"I believe you are wrong, Jace," said Vannas. "You have no idea how much power is locked within this crystal. What would a warrior know of sorcery, a clumsy giant who fights only with his bare hands?"

Jace's eyes gleamed with sudden malice in the pale light of the Flamestone. His cloaked form seemed to fill the tent. "What would I know of sorcery? All the years I have walked this land, and you dare ask that? That is bold even for an arrogant prince."

Aldreya clutched Jace's shoulder. "My cousin means no harm."

Jace's hand shot out with the speed of a striking snake and clamped around the prince's hand, engulfing the White Flamestone. Vannas struggled but seemed unable to move, his eyes wide with shock. Sweat beaded on his forehead.

"I could kill you," said Jace, in a cold whisper. "You cannot move. You cannot activate the Flamestone. All you can do is wait for my next action. You say I know nothing of sorcery, yet my sorcery has rendered you helpless."

"Jace, let him go," Aldreya said. "He is a prince!"

"Not my prince," said Jace. "He's just an arrogant young man to me-one who has a lot to learn. And the learning process has begun."

Vannas tried to speak, but no words came out.

Jerret grinned. "I'm liking this."

Lannon, however, didn't like what he was seeing at all. Jace seemed to have overstepped his authority. Lannon wondered if he was somehow under the control of Tharnin. "What are you doing, Jace? Let him go!" Lannon summoned the Eye of Divinity but held it in check, waiting for Jace's response.

"Very well," said Jace. "My point is made." He withdrew his huge hand, and the prince was able to move again.

His face burning with humiliation, Vannas put the Flamestone away. He was shaking with anger. "You've made quite a mistake in laying hands on me. At the least, you will lose your place in the Divine Shield."

Jace shrugged. "Do you think I care? It would be a gift to me. All I wanted to do was warn you Squires that nothing is certain in life. No power is too great to be overcome. Vannas, if the Hand of Tharnin had seized you like that, you would be dead right now. I merely showed you the truth of things."

"Jace is right," said Aldreya, though she looked uncertain. "He shouldn't have laid hands on you, cousin, but he did make a valid point."

Vannas glared at her for a moment, and then his face softened. He sighed. "You speak the truth, Aldreya. You have far more wisdom than I do. Jace, as much as I cringe in saying this-I thank you for the lesson."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "I'm impressed by your wisdom and humility, Prince Vannas. Perhaps there is hope for this quest after all. I'm sorry for seizing you like that, but I felt it was the only way to make you understand."

"You have made me more aware of the dangers we face," said Vannas. "And truthfully, we are far better off with you accompanying us."

Jace rose into a stooped position. "Well, I guess I'll return to my tent now. I have nothing more to say. I hope we can all remain friends."

Vannas bowed, his face still red with embarrassment. "We shall talk again."

"Goodnight, Jace," said Aldreya.

"It's just Jace now, huh?" he said, giving her a wry smile. "No more uncle?"

Aldreya looked away.

With a chuckle, Jace left the tent.

"I realize he tried to enlighten me," said Vannas, "but it proves nothing. In battle, no one will get that close to me."

"Anything can happen," said Lannon, thinking back to his encounters with the servants of the Deep Shadow.

"But I'll be ready," Vannas insisted.

As the Squires lay down to sleep, Lannon pondered Jace's warning. Lannon's skill with the Eye of Divinity seemed weak lately, his energy low. If the Knights were relying on his power to any significant degree, they were indeed making a huge mistake. But Lannon suspected that Vannas was the bearer of hope now-the one who was expected to overcome the Hand of Tharnin and whatever other terrors awaited them. This should have eased Lannon's burdens, but all he could focus on was saving Vorden and Taris. It was a fact that countless Knights and Squires had been lost to the will of the Deep Shadow. Vorden was just another victim in a long line of them that spanned the centuries. This was normal business for Dremlock, but to Lannon it was deeply personal and gnawed constantly at his soul.

At last Lannon fell asleep, and his dreams were cold and dark.

***

During the night, Lannon awoke to find he couldn't move his arms or legs or utter a single noise. Flooded with panic, he opened his eyes to see a dark shape hovering above him. As his vision came into focus, he gazed up at a humanoid face with its mouth open wide to display two large white fangs. The face was attached to a dark and scaly serpent's body as big around as a man's thigh.

A Pit Crawler had slid silently in through the tent door, with some of its long body still outside, and it was paralyzing Lannon with its sorcery. A thin stream of dark, transparent mist shot from the beast's jaws and hovered around Lannon's face, its icy touch commanding him to lie still and wait for death.

Lannon fought to summon the Eye of Divinity, but the Pit Crawler's sorcery thwarted his efforts. The dark mist had frozen both mind and muscle. He could only watch in despair as the white fangs moved toward his throat.

Lannon fought like a madman to unlock the Eye. At last it emerged and seized the serpent, barely halting its descent.

The Eye probed the Pit Crawler, revealing a Goblin that lived to inflict death. It killed even when its belly was full, a quiet shadow that used sorcery to conceal itself and confuse others. It was an abomination that had been bred for ambush and assassination, and it loved its work.

Convinced he was going to lose the struggle, Lannon thought of his parents. He wondered how they could take the news of his death. It would likely ruin them, especially his father, who was in a fragile state to begin with due to the disease that ravaged his body and spirit. Lannon wasn't giving up-but he was definitely giving ground. Once again he found himself trying to hold back a much stronger foe, and once again the Eye of Divinity seemed too weak to save him. Slowly the Pit Crawler's pale fangs closed in on his neck.

Lannon realized the creature would likely try to kill the other Squires as well, before its work was done. He strove to scream warnings as he fought, but his vocal cords were completely useless. He imagined the Knights finding their bodies in the tent the next morning

With a furious effort, Lannon pushed the Pit Crawler away from his throat as he tried to break free. But the creature spit its dark mist again into Lannon's face, and his focus waned. The beast once again began to descend on him.

The battle raged on silently, until Lannon realized a way to save himself. He reached out with a small portion of the Eye and shook Vannas hard. It was difficult to split his focus, and it caused him to lose a bit of ground with the Pit Crawler. But the move paid off, as the Birlote prince awoke instantly and sat up, his eyes widening when he beheld the intruder. He yelled out a warning on instinct. The other Squires snapped awake, crying out in shock over what they saw-too stunned for a moment to reach for their weapons.

Vannas leapt to his feet, ordering Jerret and Aldreya to stay down. He yanked the White Flamestone from its pouch and its piercing light flooded the tent. The Pit Crawler quivered and hissed, as if the light were burning it.

"Die, spawn of Tharnin!" Vannas cried, and the Flamestone grew blinding, its light hammering into the beast. The Pit Crawler ignited into white fire, its burning husk hanging in the air.

Lannon shoved the blazing creature away from him with vicious force. Having no power left to resist his sorcery, the beast flew out the tent door, leaving only a few glowing fragments behind that quickly went dark.

Able to move again, Lannon rose and drew his Dragon-bone sword with a shaking hand. Aldreya seized the lantern (which thankfully had remained standing), and with a fearful glance at each other, the Squires stepped out into the cold rain to see that the Pit Crawler had been reduced to a charred shell.

But another terrible sight awaited them. Buke Songblade, the Blue Knight who'd been guarding them, lay dead in the wet grass, his face shockingly pale in the lantern glow. His sword was sheathed-indicating he'd been ambushed by the Pit Crawler and likely injected with its lethal venom.

As Knights poured from tents and gathered around, Lannon knelt in the grass, sickened. Aldreya placed her hand on his shoulder. His voice quivering with emotion, Lannon explained exactly what had occurred.

"It passed quietly through the middle of an army," said Vannas, "and nearly killed you, Lannon." His green eyes showed anger and fear.

Shennen groaned and knelt by Buke's body. "Only a Pit Crawler could have ambushed this Knight. Wretched beast!"

"We need to stay more alert," said Furlus, "rain or no rain. Had there been two guards, Buke might still be alive."

"Or two guards might now be dead," said Jace. "Regardless, we can expect more assassination attempts. Our foes know we will continue north no matter what, Squires or no Squires. Lannon and Vannas will face death again."

"It greatly disturbs me," said Furlus, "that they knew exactly what tent the Squires were in and were able to send the beast there. It was a very precise and well-executed attempt."

"Their spies watch our every move," said Shennen, pointing skyward. "And it wouldn't have been difficult to give the Pit Crawler Lannon's scent-which is left here and there during our journey-and then send the beast to sniff him out."

"And we nearly let it happen!" Furlus growled, smashing his fist into his palm. "Some Divine Shield this is!"

"If I may speak in our defense," said Thrake Wolfaxe, "the Divine Shield did its job, Furlus. Lannon is alive."

"But Buke is not," said Shennen, his eyes filled with pain. "It is at times like this when I hate being a Knight. I'm tired of war. When this conflict is over, I'm done. Enough good men have died because of my mistakes."

Furlus patted Shennen on the back. "No, my friend. Your fate lies on the High Council."

But Shennen only shook his head. "This is my last taste of war."

Chapter 15: The Wrath of Winter

The next day, as they rode into the Northern Bloodlands, the snow came. It quickly blanketed the forest of Mother Trees around them. The riders put on fur cloaks, and the pace didn't falter even as the snow piled up in the road. Thankfully, the snow and cold reduced the stench of the Bloodlands enough to make it bearable. The road, however, was badly overgrown with thick roots-as Rangers only cleared it twice a year-and the snow partially concealed these obstacles and caused the horses to stumble now and then.

They hoped the snow was temporary, but it held steady during their remaining voyage through the Bloodlands, until even the roots in the road were completely lost from view. Travel slowed significantly. The Knights had not anticipated winter arriving so early and with such vigor, but the Greywinds were up to the challenge. These huge horses-unique to Dremlock Kingdom-were almost unstoppable when it came to navigating rough terrain. The Knights knew that no blizzard, however intense, would halt their journey to the Bonefrost Mountains.

Beyond the Bloodlands were the Boulder Plains, upon which lay the long expanse of the Grey Lake. In the summer, those journeying north typically took a ferry across the lake, and in the winter they traveled over the frozen waters when the ice was thick enough. The Grey Lake was so vast that journeying around it could cost a rider on horseback a week of travel. Furlus was concerned the ice would not yet hold them, and so when they reached the shore, they camped for three uneventful days while the snow fell and the temperature dropped. Fresh meat was abundant, and some of the Rangers even dared venture onto the ice to fish.

At last Furlus deemed the ice safe enough to cross, and the army continued on. Small groups were sent, spaced far apart to reduce the stress on the ice. The first group to go consisted of the Rangers, who were the most qualified to discover weak spots in the ice. Behind them followed some of the Red Knights, to guide the Divine Shield that came next.

When the Rangers were about halfway across, they began to shout back warnings. Lannon could barely see them up ahead through the swirling snow, their horses moving about frantically. Using the Eye of Divinity, Lannon glimpsed boulders and chunks of ice raining down on the Rangers. One of the men had been knocked off his horse and lay bleeding in the snow.

Furlus, who rode alongside Lannon, shouted for the Rangers to retreat to the rear and for the Red Knights to hold position. They lifted the injured man onto horseback, but a large boulder crashed down on another Ranger and her horse, driving them down through the ice. The other Rangers tried to rescue her but quickly realized both she and the horse had met a sad end. Furlus again shouted for them to retreat. They left her and galloped past, as more rocks and ice chunks rained down on the spot where they had been.

"Our foes have a catapult!" Furlus bellowed. "They intend to smash us into the cold waters and be done with us!"

"We should strike back with our own catapults!" said Thrake, his eyes blazing.

"Let the Red Knights handle it," said Furlus. "We need to end this quickly." He ordered them to charge, and the Red Knights sped forward, their heavy lances burning with the fires of sorcery.

"Master Furlus," said Shennen, "we should fall back to protect the Squires. I believe we're in range of their attack."

But Furlus wasn't listening. He continued to shout orders at the Red Knights as they charged through the snow, even as rocks and ice started to rain down amongst them. A large rock descended straight for Jerret. Lannon only had an instant to react, but he managed to seize the boulder with his power and shove it away from Jerret. The rock nearly touched the top of Jerret's head before crashing down through the ice and throwing freezing water all over the shocked Squire and his horse. But Jerret rode on a Greywind, and the horse had nerves of steel. The animal reared up only slightly before regaining its composure.

Lannon was amazed at what he'd done on pure instinct. He wouldn't have thought the Eye was powerful enough to deflect a falling boulder. It was almost as if the Eye had locked onto the boulder by its own will.

"Retreat!" Furlus roared, his eyes wide.

The Divine Shield turned and charged away from the falling boulders. However, a chunk of ice struck Jace on the shoulder and knocked him off his horse. As Jace fell, his horse lost its balance and toppled over with him. The impact of the ice chunk, the huge horse, and the heavy rider caused the frozen lake surface to give way, and Jace was gone in a splash. The Greywind managed to half leap and half scramble to safety, and the horse immediately went to the hole and lowered its head in an effort to save Jace. But when Jace failed to emerge, another falling ice chunk caused the horse to gallop after the Divine Shield.

Aldreya cried out in despair. "Jace has fallen!" She slowed her horse, but Furlus ordered her onward until the falling objects could no longer reach them.

Furlus commanded everyone to halt, and they turned, anxiously watching the sky. They could hear the Red Knights shouting in the distance and catch glimpses of flame and spark through the snowflakes. Finally, a pillar of black smoke rose into the sky and Furlus grinned.

"I think their catapult will soon be ash," said the Grey Dwarf.

"Jace went under," said Aldreya, tears in her eyes.

Furlus nodded. "I saw it. When, and if, it's safe to cross, I promise you we'll search for him, and the Ranger that went down as well. At least, I would like to retrieve their bodies for a proper funeral."

Lannon and Jerret exchanged stunned glances. Lannon couldn't believe that Jace was gone so quickly and easily. Jace seemed so flamboyant-almost invincible, considering how long he'd lived. Suddenly, the world seemed far colder. Lannon realized how much he'd depended on Jace's guidance. As strange as the giant had been, he'd seemed to know things that even the wisest Knights did not.

Vannas bowed his head. "Jace was good man."

"Don't give up on him yet," said Furlus. "Jace is a powerful sorcerer and sorcerers are very hard to kill. Taris has proven that. But yes, it doesn't look good for him, my young friends. Stay strong."

At last one of the Red Knights rode back and informed them that the siege engine was destroyed, and the Goblins that had been controlling it were dead. The way ahead was clear.

However, reports from the rear were not so promising. Two of their own large catapults had broken partially through the ice, and the Knights were struggling fiercely to keep them from sinking. One of the heavily laden wagons had also broken through and would have to be emptied and abandoned.

As Furlus had promised, they searched for Jace and the fallen Ranger. The Ranger's body and that of her horse were pulled from the water, but Jace was not found. Lannon even probed the water with the Eye of Divinity. But when no sign of Jace turned up, Furlus concluded he'd been swept away under the ice and was dead. They held a quick funeral for the two, while the Squires and some of the Knights looked on in dismay, and then resumed their journey.

They came to the charred remains of a large catapult that was half sunken through the ice and the bodies of two Goblin Lords and three Ogres. The Ogres were chained to the siege engine, and it had taken several lance strikes to bring them down. One of the Red Knights who'd charged the catapult had been crushed by an Ogre's fist. Using some of the remaining wood from the catapult, the Knights built a funeral pyre for the dead-which became blazing hot even in the swirling snow thanks to Knightly sorcery.

After that, with heavy hearts they continued on across the Grey Lake and encountered no further ambushes. Also, thanks to a more watchful eye and focused effort, they were able to keep the siege engines and remaining wagons from breaking through the ice. The snow fell harder toward evening, as they set up camp. Soon a village of large tents was erected upon the frozen lake, with snow drifting up amidst the camp. The horses were given feedbags.

However, the snow was piling up so deep that both the siege engines and the wagons were becoming very difficult to pull, even for the powerful Greywind horses. They decided they would have to abandon the siege engines on the lakeshore and concentrate their energy on the wagons, which were lighter and specially modified for winter travel. It was a serious blow to their war plans, and Furlus was enraged over the fact that it had taken so long for the army to form and leave Dremlock. Now winter had struck early and with terrible force, and Dremlock's mighty siege engines would have to be left behind.

The Divine Shield gathered for a meeting in one of the tents, and the mood was grim. Furlus considered ordering the army back to Dremlock, after being pressured by Shennen, Thrake, and Trenton. But ultimately the Tower Master decided to press on, without giving much of a clear reason. Lannon suspected that Furlus was thinking of Taris Warhawk's plight and of the fact that the Red Knights with their heavy lances were like lesser siege engines themselves. As long as the supplies held out, the Knights were still prepared for war.

***

Later that night, with the snowy wind howling outside their tent, the Squires sat in quiet contemplation of Jace's apparent death. Thanks once again to the fires of sorcery, the interior of the tent was warm and dry. Whenever the temperature cooled a bit, one of the Squires would ignite a weapon blade, projecting the heat throughout the interior. The sorcery was not limitless, as it drained energy from the caster each time it was used and would eventually cause complete exhaustion, but Aldreya, Vannas, and Jerret exchanged heating duties to keep from tiring-and all three had a lot of energy to spare. Although Jerret lacked the precise control necessary to dry out clothing, he could still generate a considerable heat from his blade.

Lannon simply lay back and tried to enjoy the warmth, but his mind was cold. He was just as distraught over Jace's death as Aldreya was. He couldn't accept the notion that Jace had perished so easily.

But the Squires had underestimated the huge sorcerer, for later that night when they were beginning to drift off to sleep, the tent door opened and Jace wandered in. He sat down without saying a word. His skin looked frozen, and a strange fog clung to his purple cloak. His eyes seemed haunted and held a bizarre, distant look.

The Squires were delighted and amazed, but their joy was tainted by the realization that something seemed drastically wrong with the giant. Aside from looking half frozen, his appearance was somehow sinister. He seemed engulfed in a disturbing aura that sent chills over their flesh. The fog curled off him like little, twisting snakes.

"I'm so happy you're alive, Jace!" Aldreya said, but she didn't smile and she kept her distance from him. "What happened to you?"

Jace shrugged. "I fell. Into some water. It was cold."

"It's good to have you back, my friend," said Prince Vannas, managing a smile. "However, you look very…well, cold, I guess."

"I was in a cold place," said Jace. He sighed. "Yes, a very cold place."

Jerret glanced at Lannon with fear in his eyes. Lannon knew Jerret was thinking the same thing he was-that Jace may have become contaminated somehow by the Deep Shadow. It would explain how he'd survived the fall through the ice. The Deep Shadow was known to give some of its victims extraordinary endurance, to the point where some were nearly invincible.

Lannon probed Jace with the Eye of Divinity, but all he could see was a hazy wall of fog that seemed to pop up to block his power. Jace fixed his grey eyes on Lannon and gave him a humorless grin.

Lannon's power faltered. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Yes, perfectly fine," said Jace. He fumbled inside his cloak with a frozen-looking hand and produced his pipe. But it fell from his trembling fingers.

"I'll warm you with my dagger," said Vannas, drawing his blade.

"Allow me, cousin," said Aldreya, giving him a look of warning. She ran her burning dagger over Jace's flesh, but he seized her wrist.

"Uncle Jace is perfectly fine," he insisted, pushing her hand away. "I just wanted to let everyone know that I'm back. And perfectly fine. Perfectly…"

"Does Shennen know you've returned?" said Lannon.

"Not yet," said Jace. He started to say something, but his mouth closed again.

"Who is guarding our tent?" Lannon asked.

"Massack Fireheart," said Jace. He picked up his pipe and dropped it again. He gazed at the pipe with a curious expression.

Lannon grabbed a lantern and peered outside. A masked Blue Knight was standing rigid in the blizzard and gazing off into space, snow building up on his head. He looked as still as a statue. Chilled, Lannon ducked back inside.

"Massack looks kind of dazed," Lannon whispered to Vannas.

Vannas raised his eyebrows in bafflement. He casually produced the pouch containing the White Flamestone and held it in his lap.

"Massack is doing fine," said Jace, rubbing his hands together. "He's probably a little cold right now, though."

Lannon gulped. "Did you…do anything to him, Jace?"

"He asked me questions," said Jace. "And then he…fell silent."

"He fell silent?" said Lannon, chilled.

Jace nodded. "And so it goes…"

"You were struck by ice," said Aldreya. "Did it injure you?"

"Just a shattered shoulder," said Jace. "Nothing fatal." He rubbed his shoulder. "Bone fragments like puzzle pieces. Difficult to fit back together. When you move one piece into place, and it's the wrong fit…well, it's quite a pain. But it's all okay now, patched up good as new."

"Jace, what is wrong with you?" said Aldreya. "I'm delighted that you are alive, but something is quite amiss!"

"I look hideous, I imagine," said Jace. "Yes, I feel rather hideous too. Then again, I nearly drowned. And then came the bitter cold…"

"Are you hungry?" asked Lannon.

"I have no use for food," said Jace. "My belly is…deathly calm."

Aldreya shuddered and glanced helplessly at Lannon.

Lannon could only shake his head.

"Jerret, go and get Furlus," said Vannas.

Lannon nodded his agreement at the idea.

Jerret hesitated, then rose.

"Sit down, Squire," Jace commanded, his frozen gaze fixing on Jerret. "I'm not done talking yet. We have so many things to discuss."

His face pale, Jerret sat back down.

"I was dreaming in the deep," said Jace, puckering up his lips and blowing fog from his shoulder. "I was…dreaming. I saw the Hand of Tharnin crushing our army, while a great beast descended from the heavens. I saw the White Flamestone lying in pieces, and Lannon…Lannon was soaked in blood. The beast of Dremlock's doom is drawing closer…"

Jace closed his eyes. "Yes, I was lost in the fog…in an endless dream." For a moment he was silent, and then he added, "But then the dream did in fact come to an end. It always does. Goodbye, my young friends. I must sleep now and I may never…ever…ever…ever…awaken. Don't mourn me at all. Just forget this old fool…" He fell to one side, knocking over a water jug.

"I'm getting Furlus now!" Aldreya cried, and she leapt up and was gone from the tent so swiftly the others barely saw her move.

***

In spite of his bizarre appearance and behavior, Jace seemed back to his old self the next day. The strange fog that had clung to him was gone, and his skin had returned to its normal, somewhat pale hue. The light of awareness was back in his eyes, bringing with it his usual personality. Massack Fireheart also seemed normal again and couldn't recall acting dazed, though he admitted he'd been very tired while on guard duty and might have simply been daydreaming (which of course earned him some harsh words from Shennen).

When asked about his strange condition of the night before, Jace just sighed and answered, "I was seriously injured from a falling chunk of ice-an injury that may take weeks to fully heal, if it ever does heal properly-and I nearly drowned and froze to death at the same time. I got trapped under ice and swam around in a near panic, unable to find where I'd fallen through. As my body was beginning to fail, I barely managed to punch a hole through the ice, thanks to my sorcery, and crawl out into the freezing air. I lay there for quite some time like a gasping fish, unable to get up. Then I had to walk for what seemed like hours with my clothes soaking wet, with only my sorcery to warm me-hence the steam that was rising from my cloak-and again save me from certain death. Now, would you act normal immediately following such events?" Aside from that reply, Jace would say nothing more about it.

Still fearing that Jace could be under the Deep Shadow's influence, Lannon tried again to probe him with the Eye of Divinity, but again he saw nothing but a wall of fog. Jace was endlessly shielded to Lannon's power somehow. When Lannon finally asked about it, Jace replied, "Yes, I've learned a few tricks over the two centuries that I've been alive. Does that surprise you?"

When Lannon asked about Jace's predictions of future events, including Lannon ending up covered in blood, Jace replied: "I don't remember. But it may be something worth noting."

And so Lannon got nowhere in his investigation, and the Knights-even Trenton- didn't seem interested and simply dismissed it all as strange sorcerer business. Regardless, Jace seemed normal enough (at least for Jace), talking and laughing and smoking his pipe. He eventually put Lannon at ease and the lad's mind wandered to other topics.

When they reached the lakeshore, they left their siege engines standing in the snow to wait for spring and were able to proceed at a faster pace across what remained of the Boulder Plains. For one afternoon, the snow let up and blue sky appeared, giving them hope that the wretched weather was behind them. Yet their hopes were soon dashed when the sky darkened again and a furious blizzard drove against them-the worst so far on the journey.

Travel slowed to a crawl as they forged ahead into the raging snowstorm. Visibility was reduced to almost nothing, forcing the Knights to hurriedly set up camp even though there were still a few hours of daylight remaining. They dared not be caught riding after dark, when it would be all too easy for some of them to get lost. They hunkered down sullenly in their tents, hoping the blizzard would let up by morning.

As the Squires sat eating bread and jerky by lantern light, Lannon explained how he was unable to use the Eye of Divinity on Jace. "Perhaps my power is growing weaker rather than stronger," he said, needing to talk about his fears.

"It doesn't matter," said Vannas. "We have a new power now, and there is no reason to fear. The White Flamestone is all we need."

"But you heard Jace tell of his dream," said Lannon, "of the Flamestone shattered and me…well, covered in blood." He winced as he said that last bit. "Jace is a sorcerer of some sort-though I admit certainly nothing like Taris-and his dreams could be visions of what the future might hold."

"Jace seemed out of his mind when he told us that," said Jerret. "He looked confused and maybe just plain crazy."

"I have to agree with Jerret," said Aldreya. "His behavior was very strange. I too was afraid the Deep Shadow was in his heart."

Vannas shrugged. "I should think the Divine Essence would know our fate better than Jace. I believe he was simply revealing his deepest fears."

Lannon said nothing more on the topic. As he drifted into sleep, the Eye of Divinity became the Eye of Dreams. Jace's vision merged with his own-as he saw Vannas struck down and the White Flamestone crushed by the swing of a heavy club even as some shadowy, winged horror descended from the sky. He saw himself covered in crimson but could not tell if the blood was his own. And finally, he saw the Hand of Tharnin reaching for his throat, as yellow eyes burned in the shadows. The smoldering gauntlet was far more powerful than the servants of the Divine Essence had imagined-a weapon forged with the will of the Deep Shadow for the sole purpose of destroying Dremlock Kingdom. The Divine Essence had given them the White Flamestone to oppose the Hand of Tharnin, but a third power-even greater than the other two-had awakened from its slumber. This third power, an unimaginable beast, was bearing down on Lannon, and he felt too weak to defend against it. And then the final ugly scene was revealed-the burning towers of Dremlock.

Chapter 16: The Pit of Misery

The ride to Rogue Haven was miserable. Timlin was given stale food to eat that he could barely stomach (by having it crammed into his mouth) followed by stale water. It was cold in the wagon and he often lay shivering on the dirty, gritty floorboards. When it rained, the roof leaked in several places, leaving Timlin soaking wet. Also, a moldy stench hung in the air that he never seemed to get used to. The wagon's purpose was obviously to transport slaves, and their comfort was not an issue. As far as the Dwarven master seemed concerned, Timlin could rot back there with the floorboards. And if he happened to take ill and die, what did the loss of a slave matter who'd been found wandering the countryside?

Occasionally, Timlin could hear Tolus whistling loudly, and his hands knotted into fists. He wanted to kill the Dwarf so badly it was like a raging, endless fire inside him. Timlin was trained in escaping ropes and chains, but the Dwarf's knots were so tight and secure that days of working at them produced no results. At last, Timlin simply gave up and lay there in the dark hating his captor.

Timlin wondered what his former friends at Dremlock would think of him now. No doubt they held only anger towards him for betraying the kingdom. They would probably have felt pity towards him as well, had they known the situation he now found himself in. Timlin knew one thing for certain-no one would be coming to his rescue. He was utterly alone in the world. He'd not only betrayed Dremlock, he'd also betrayed his friends. And most importantly, he'd betrayed himself. That last realization gnawed at him the most.

At last, the wretched journey to Rogue Haven came to an end, and Timlin was dragged from the back of the wagon. It was a cool fall day, and Timlin found himself in a misty clearing surrounded by towering pine trees. Timlin inhaled the fresh air, wishing he was free to wander where he wished. They stood behind a large, rugged-looking building made of pine logs. The sounds of merrymaking came from within-laughter, shouting, and music.

Tolus grinned. "This tavern is your new home, little man. We've got an arena down below, where you'll be fighting for your life now and then. Bear in mind that how well you eat, how much coin you make, and whether or not you eventually gain your freedom all depends on you. If you're lazy, you will get nowhere. You might even get yourself killed. So are you ready to work hard and better your life?"

Timlin shrugged. "All you really care about is your money."

Tolus jammed his finger against Timlin's chest. "Wrong, boy. I care about all my fighters. You'll come to understand that-if you live long enough."

The Grey Dwarf shoved Timlin along into the tavern and down some stairs into a hallway made of stone blocks. Several cells lined the hallway, containing rugged-looking men who were seated on the floor. The musty stench of the hall overwhelmed Timlin. At the end of the passageway was an oval-shaped iron door surrounded by oak carvings of exaggerated and hideous Birlote faces. A single guard watched over the tunnel-a stocky, bald man who held a knotted club. A large ring of keys hung from his belt.

Tolus pointed at the strange door. "The entrance to the arena. It is said that the man who walks past that door leaves his soul on the other side. Later tonight, you shall get your first taste of combat."

Tolus cut Timlin's ropes and shoved him into a cell containing another prisoner. Then he left the hallway. Timlin sat down and groaned.

"No use groaning," Timlin's cellmate said. He was tall, bald, and dark-skinned, with a short, scruffy beard. Muscles, displaying scars, rippled over his frame. He wore only a pair of leather trousers. "Might as well cheer up. You're not going anywhere. And why should a man be unhappy, even if facing death?"

He extended his hand. "My name is Oaran."

Timlin shook it. "Timlin Woodmaster."

"Woodmaster?" Oaran said, raising his eyebrows. "Sounds Knightly."

"It used to be," said Timlin. "I wanted to be master of the bow and the arrow, but now I guess I'll fight with whatever weapons I'm given."

"You'll fight with the weapon you're most comfortable using," said Oaran, "but not the bow. We fight in close combat."

"How did you end up here?" Timlin asked.

Oaran's eyes narrowed. "You want to know my business? Knowing a man's business can be dangerous."

"I just wondered," Timlin added quickly, "if you were taken prisoner like me or if you chose to come here."

Oaran stared at Timlin as if he were insane. "No one chooses to come here. Even a madman wouldn't choose this. I drank too much ale in the tavern above and fell asleep. I woke up down here. That was three years ago."

Timlin lowered his voice so the guard wouldn't hear. "I think we can escape. I know how to pick locks, if I have the right tools."

Oaran shook his head. "Sorry lad, but it's not going to happen. The cells are guarded day and night. We're watched carefully. Your only chance of escape is to do what you're told and win your battles. When I started, my food was terrible. I could barely swallow it. I was given no dressings for my wounds. No blanket, even." He patted the thick quilt beneath him. "Now I eat good, I sleep good, and I'm given a little ale now and then. I even have my own money."

"But you're still a slave," said Timlin.

"And so are you," said Oaran. "What of it? You think I choose this life? No, I want to see my wife and children again someday, who live in the city of Gravendar. I must stay alive for them. Who will you stay alive for?"

Timlin shrugged. The pain of loneliness wracked his heart, but he tried to hide it. "I have no one. I don't really care."

Oaran seized his shoulder and smiled. "You care deeply. I see it in your eyes. You've suffered much. So, you fight for yourself-and that is good enough. You can make a new start here, but you will be forced to kill. Goblins at first, and then later you will face human warriors."

Timlin flinched away from his touch. "I won't give up on trying to escape. And if I get a chance at that Dwarf…"

"Doesn't matter," said Oaran. "I was the same way as you three years ago-desperate to escape and see my family again. But the harsh punishments for disobedience are not worth the effort. Save your energy for the arena. You'll need it." He tapped his bald head. "Use what's in here, lad. Fight until you are free, and then never look back. Today is a new day."

"Not for me," said Timlin. "Today is the same old thing."

Oaran gazed at him with a curious expression. "You've known some troubles in your life, for sure. Something very dark and bitter lurks in your soul. Is that why you're no longer at Dremlock?"

Timlin looked away. "I've seen worse than this dungeon." He wasn't lying. He had seen worse-endless days and nights spent living below ground, with barely the space to crawl about. The constant beatings and lashings, the hopelessness of his existence. He'd been treated worse than most animals were treated, but he'd survived to eventually crawl forth into daylight.

"Don't disrespect them," said Oaran, his face deathly serious. "If you do, you'll be forced to fight me. And I don't want to have to kill you. I take no pride in killing a skinny lad who has suffered a hard life. No pride at all."

"I won't be treated like a slave," said Timlin, his hands shaking.

Again, Oaran tapped his head. "Keep calm now-and be free later. Or make a stand now and there will be no later."

"We'll see," said Timlin, shifting about uncomfortably on the stone floor. "I may not look like much, but I'm dangerous."

Oaran's eyes glittered, and he smiled. "I sure hope so, my little friend."

Eventually, the guard served them food and drink. Timlin's meal consisted of moldy food and water that tasted odd. Oaran, however, was given a large platter covered in venison and vegetables-so much food that Timlin doubted he would eat all of it. Timlin's mouth watered as he stared at the platter-the dripping meat, potatoes (Timlin loved potatoes), and a large jug of milk. Oaran glanced at Timlin while he ate, but did not offer to share.

Timlin nibbled on a piece of stale bread, then tossed in back on his plate. "Are you going to eat all of that, Oaran?"

"No," said Oaran. "I'll probably leave some of it. My leftovers will go to the Goblins that fight in the arena."

"Goblins?" said Timlin. "Why would you want to feed them? I'll gladly eat your leftovers. I haven't had a good meal in ages."

"I'm sure you would," said Oaran, "but you won't get them. When I'm done, the guard will take my leftovers to the Goblins."

"Because it's not allowed?" Timlin asked.

Oaran shrugged. "There is no rule that says I can't feed you. Prisoners share food all the time. But I'm not going to feed you."

Anger rose inside Timlin. "Why not? I thought you were a kind-hearted fellow, giving me that advice and all."

"You thought wrong," said Oaran. "I'm not going to be kind to you, because kind will get you killed. You want to eat this good? Then you better win your battles. This food is a reward for hard work."

Timlin tossed his plate aside, scattering moldy crud across the floor. "I refuse to eat this. I'd rather starve."

Oaran shrugged. "If you say so. But I'm still not sharing. Nobody shared with me, and the desire for better food kept me going in here. I fought for what I have."

"Yet you're still a pathetic slave," said Timlin.

Oaran nodded. "I'm alive, though."

Timlin sat down and sighed. "Not even a small potato?"

Oaran lifted a tiny potato, studied it thoughtfully, then popped it in his mouth. He chewed it slowly, his gaze fixed on Timlin.

Timlin leaned against the cell bars and closed his eyes. But a moment later, the guard seized his head through the bars and shoved Timlin away. "No touching the cell bars!" he growled, as he pushed Timlin.

Timlin turned with instinctive, blazing speed and seized the guard's arm like a striking snake. The stocky fellow's eyes widened, as if he couldn't believe he'd been snared. Immediately, Timlin released him and backed away.

"Keep your filthy hands off me!" the guard muttered. But his eyes showed a glint of fear. "Grab me again like that, and you'll get the whip."

Timlin bowed. "Sorry, it was instinct."

"Instinct will get you killed," said the guard, walking away shaking his head. Moments later, the guard bellowed and smashed his club against something metallic, clearly frustrated by Timlin seizing him.

Oaran frowned. "You're a quick little devil-like nothing I've seen. There is a lot more to you than meets the eye."

"I was well trained," said Timlin. "But who cares? It was all a waste."

"Not a waste," said Oaran. "Not yet."

"What do you mean?" said Timlin. "I've already betrayed Dremlock. I've pretty much sealed my fate."

"You've still got a heart," said Oaran. "You can still use those fine talents to do some good in the world."

"Whatever you say," Timlin mumbled. Soon he would have to fight for his life for the amusement and profit of others, and the notion sickened and terrified him. Timlin wasn't afraid of ordinary combat-such fears had been diminished by his training. But something about fighting to the death in an arena made his stomach feel like it was full of boiling acid. He realized he was trembling from head to toe. He wasn't just afraid to die-he was also afraid to kill. He didn't want to slay a foe in close quarters for no honorable reason. He pondered that realization, deeply confused by it. As part of the Blood Legion, he would have been expected to kill whoever they told him to kill-even innocents if need b e. But Timlin realized his Knightly training, and his conscience, was still affecting him deeply and demanding he only take a life if given no choice.

"I don't want to kill anyone," Timlin said aloud.

Oaran nodded. "You'll fight a Goblin tonight. Later, it will be a man who faces you. And it will be to the death."

"I'm not ready to kill a man," said Timlin. "It's not right. I thought I was ready for all that when I left Dremlock, but I guess I was wrong."

"You won't have a choice," said Oaran. Then he added, "Well, you actually will have a choice. You can choose to die." He gazed at Timlin in pity. "You're young and you're afraid. You've got a good soul in you, as bad as things have been in your life. But you'll soon learn to live like the wolf or the hawk-taking lives to preserve your own. This place will make you an animal."

Timlin shuddered, feeling cold inside.

***

Later that evening, Tolus and two men with crossbows came and let Timlin out of his cell. Timlin stepped into the hall with his hands raised, his eyes fixed on the weapons of the men who confronted him. He considered going for a weapon and fighting to the death-which would have been justified considering the circumstances-but he doubted he would prevail and he didn't want to die. At least in the arena he had a chance. He figured if he could buy some time and watch for an opportunity to escape, something might turn up. He harbored a lot of skills and secrets his captors likely didn't know about. They might underestimate him.

"Watch that little fellow," the guard muttered. "He seized my arm earlier, just like a snake striking at a rat. He's a dangerous lad."

Tolus frowned. "Are you going to seize me, Timlin? Better think twice before trying anything. I'll kill you for it!"

"I'll follow your orders," said Timlin.

"Good," said Tolus. "Perhaps Oaran has talked some sense into you. That's why I put you in with him. Now, are you ready to fight? We like to test the new ones before we waste too much food on them. If you can't handle a lowly Goblin, you deserve to die. It's all up to you. This is just business, lad. Don't hate me for it."

Timlin didn't reply.

They herded him to the end of the hall, where the strange, oval-shaped iron door stood. Timlin glanced up at the oak frame that surrounded it-the ugly, grinning, Birlote faces carved into knots in the wood. The depiction of the Birlotes as grotesque and demonic angered him.

"Say a prayer here to whatever god you serve," said Tolus. "Ask him to keep your soul, so you don't leave it in the arena."

Timlin thought of the Divine Essence, but it didn't seem like much of a god to him-just a frightened young creature beneath Dremlock. Then an image flashed though his mind of the Great Light that hovered above Stormy Mountain, and he said a prayer to it, asking it to guide him on whatever path he took.

Tolus patted him on the back. "I wish you luck, boy."

Timlin was pushed beyond the door, and his Flayer was slapped into his hand. Then the men departed, slamming the iron door behind them.

Timlin stood in a square room, lit by torches, that resembled a pit with walls of stone and a sand floor. Benches stood atop the walls, lined with spectators who cheered, laughed, and booed him. Some were so drunk they could barely sit up. Timlin was sickened by the sight of them-their grinning faces and the bloodlust in their eyes. Some held bags of coin, ready to make bets. They seemed like heartless beasts to Timlin, caring only for their own pleasure. He found himself hating the world and wondering why there had to be so much cruelty.

Another iron door opened and a large Jackal Goblin was herded into the arena. Immediately, it fixed its evil gaze on Timlin, the muscles rippling in anticipation over its spotted, furry body. Its clenched fists uncoiled to reveal long black claws, and its drooling muzzle split open in a grin. A sleek and immensely powerful beast, it eyed Timlin with eagerness-thinking the short, skinny lad would be easy prey. The aura of the Deep Shadow emerged from it to make Timlin's thoughts all the more gloomy-to sap his will and defeat his spirit.

But Timlin was well-trained to resist that aura, and he adopted a sideways, defensive posture with his legs apart for balance, the Flayer twirling swiftly in his fingers a few times to intimidate his foe. His keen eyes took in everything-the size of the arena, the strength and probable speed of his foe, and even the sand that might be used to blind his enemy.

"I present Timlin Woodmaster," Tolus called out from above, for the benefit of the crowd. "Former Divine Knight of Dremlock and a former thief and assassin. He has killed more than twenty men in his young life."

Some in the crowd cheered, and some (who obviously didn't believe Tolus' boasts) booed and spit into the arena.

Timlin didn't let Tolus' lies shake his focus. He channeled his sorcery into his blade and it burst into green flames. As the Jackal leapt in for the kill, Timlin was ready. He sidestepped the beast and slashed a smoking wound in its shoulder with his Flayer. The Jackal let out a screech of rage.

A Jackal was a powerful Goblin. With teeth and claws that could easily shred flesh-as well as a cunning mind and immense strength and speed-they were one of the most feared creatures in the land. They also possessed extreme tolerance to pain. Timlin knew the shoulder wound would not slow the beast.

But the Jackal was a creature of the Deep Shadow first and foremost, and the more ugly its mood, the stronger its evil aura became. Timlin's focus waned for a moment, as feelings of despair overcame him. The fire in his dagger died out. Then his training took control and he calmed his mind, letting the aura of the Deep Shadow pass through him like wind through grass-telling himself it could not harm him. Once again the Flayer burst into flames.

Enraged, the beast drove at Timlin in a blur, its claws ripping at his face. Timlin deflected the claws with his blade, and the Jackal retreated a bit. It glowered at Timlin with hatred, then threw back its head and howled.

Timlin used the opportunity to lunge forward and slash at its throat, but the beast dodged the strike. Somehow it ended up behind Timlin, and instinctively, the former Squire ducked as claws ripped through the air where his head had been.

Timlin wheeled around and plunged his blade into the Jackal's heart. The stench of scorched fur and flesh filled the air. The Jackal tried a weak swipe with the last of its strength, and then it collapsed and lay still.

Timlin sheathed his Flayer and stood waiting, while the crowd cheered. At last, Tolus and the two men with crossbows entered the arena. Tolus nodded to him and smiled. "Good work, lad. A quick kill over a strong foe."

Timlin gazed down at the dead Jackal. He knew it would never end. Soon he would be forced to kill or be killed by humans, while the vile people sat drooling for bloodshed above. How many would he have to kill over the years?

"Just hand over that blade," said Tolus, his eyes straying nervously to Timlin's sheathed Flayer, "and we'll get you back to your cell. You fought so well that I think you'll have a thin quilt waiting for you to help keep you warm."

Timlin's mind was in the dark place again-the place from his youth. Calmly, he stepped toward Tolus, drew his Flayer, and held it handle first toward the man. As Tolus reached for it, Timlin leapt around him and shoved the dagger against his throat from behind. Tolus cried out for help.

"Stay away or I'll kill him!" Timlin warned the two guards. Those who remained in the crowd above went into a frenzy of boos (and a few cheers), but Timlin ignored them.

"This is futile, boy," said Tolus. "If you kill me, my guards will kill you. Give up and this nonsense will be forgotten."

"Take me out of here," Timlin ordered.

"Never," said Tolus, his Dwarven voice becoming a rumble. "Go on and kill me, then. And my guards will end your miserable life."

Timlin considered it, but his will faltered. Finally he threw down the Flayer and shoved Tolus away from him.

Tolus whirled around and pushed Timlin to the ground. The Grey Dwarf was seething with rage. Tolus and the guards then proceeded to beat Timlin severely, until the young man could barely move. Then they dragged him back to his cell.

***

Over the next few days, Timlin was groggy from the beating and spent a lot of time sleeping in his cell. He ate a bit of moldy food and drank some stale water. He dreamt of escape and would periodically awaken to the disappoint of realizing he was still in his cell. Occasionally he would hear other prisoners shout or men talking in the hallway, but he was too groggy to care what they were saying.

At last he felt good enough to stay awake during the daytime, and he washed away some dried blood from a head wound. He spent the day meditating on restoring his body to full health. As the day wore on toward evening, the guard brought dinner, which for Timlin meant more food that was barely edible. This time, though, the meal was particularly rancid.

"Feeling better, huh?" said Oaran. "Well, you won't feel very good once you hear what I have to say."

"I have to fight you, right?" said Timlin, knowing from the look on Oaran's face. "Tolus wants me dead."

"Yes, he wants you dead," said Oaran, sighing. "I told you not to disrespect him. Even worse, you put a dagger to Tolus' throat. Now you've got to kill me if you want to live, and that's not going to happen."

"I'm sorry," said Timlin. "I don't want to fight you, either." He felt utterly defeated, almost wishing the beating had killed him.

Oaran slammed a tin cup down, splashing water. "Why did you have to go and do that, boy? You're good with the blade. You could have won your battles and your freedom. Now I've got to take your life."

Timlin said nothing. He didn't have a good answer.

"The battle is scheduled for after dinner tonight," said Oaran, glancing down at the platter of food in front of him. "It's your last meal, so eat up."

Timlin glanced down at his bowl of swill. "You've got to be kidding. This is my last meal? I'd rather die hungry."

Oaran slid his tray closer to Timlin-a tray covered in meats, fruits, and vegetables. "Take what you want."

Timlin's eyes widened. "I thought you weren't sharing with me."

"It's different now," said Oaran, a look of pity on his face. "None of that matters now. Don't you understand, lad? You're going to die tonight!"

Timlin stuffed the delicious food in his mouth and washed it down with milk from a pitcher. He didn't want to think about anything but savoring the meal. He ate until his belly hurt.

But once he was finished eating, reality set in. One of them was going to die. Timlin was not convinced it would be him, but in order to survive he would have to kill a man whose only desire was to see his family again. Suddenly, Timlin's stomach wasn't handling the food very well and he had to struggle to keep it down.

"What if we both refuse to fight?" he said.

"Then they will kill us both," Oaran said gloomily.

"I won't kill you," Timlin said. "It's not right."

"Well, I will do what I must," said Oaran. "It's nothing personal. Every man has a right to protect himself and try to survive."

At last Tolus and the two men with crossbows led them from their cell. They dealt aggressively with Timlin, watching his every move. Timlin felt the two slaves might have a chance to escape if they fought together, but he could see by the subdued look in Oaran's eyes that it wasn't going to happen.

The two men were shoved into the arena below the noisy crowd. Timlin was given his Flayer, and Oaran was handed a short spear with a long tip. The crowd booed Timlin and cheered Oaran.

"My good people," Tolus called out from above. "The little fool there who assaulted me the other day must now meet his fate-at the hands of our champion Oaran! Rest assured that he will die. But I am fair as fair can be, and should Timlin Woodmaster happen to somehow defeat Oaran, his crime will be forgiven."

The crowd went into a frenzy of boos directed at Timlin. "Cowards!" Timlin shouted at them. In return they spit wine and ale at him. Timlin was shaking in rage, fear, and disgust to the point where he felt like he might fall apart. He struggled to remember his training and calm himself.

"Let the battle begin!" Tolus roared.

Instantly Oaran lunged for Timlin, almost catching the former Squire off guard. But Timlin's reflexes were too swift and he sidestepped the thrust. He kicked the spear away, but Oaran retained his grip on it.

"Stand still and I'll make it quick," Oaran said. "You won't feel much pain. Just close your eyes and let it be."

In response, Timlin shifted into his defensive posture, raising his burning dagger. Oaran's eyes widened at the sight of Timlin's sorcery.

"The Divine Fire!" Oaran whispered in awe. Then his eyes narrowed. "Your tricks won't help you, Timlin. Let me end your pain!"

Timlin stood like a statue, waiting for Oaran's move.

Oaran hesitated, then swung the spear at Timlin's head. The blade ripped through the air inches from the lad's face. Timlin dropped to the sand and kicked Oaran's legs out from under him, then leapt quickly back to his feet. But Oaran scrambled up just as quickly, and once again they circled each other.

"I won't kill you," said Timlin.

In response, Oaran drove the spear at Timlin's chest. Timlin again sidestepped it, and this time he cut the weapon in two with his burning dagger. Cursing, Oaran dropped the useless handle and grabbed the tipped half from the sand. Oaran's spear was now just a few inches longer than Timlin's Flayer.

Oaran's face was pale, and his shocked eyes revealed his thoughts. He'd won dozens of battles over the years, but now he realized he was hopelessly overmatched. Timlin was simply too swift and too well trained for him. In fact, Timlin was better at fighting an armed man than he was at fighting a Goblin. As a Blue Squire, he'd been trained extensively in weapons combat, and his sorcery guided his movements and enhanced the deadliness of his blade.

Timlin was equally shocked-to find out how well Dremlock had prepared him for a situation like this. He felt like he was toying with Oaran, and his confidence soared. He simply knew he could not lose.

With a desperate howl, Oaran drove in on Timlin with his half-spear. Timlin easily evaded the bumbling, desperate move and, letting the fire die in his blade, he slammed the pommel of the Flayer against Oaran's head. Oaran fell to the dirt and lay bleeding, a foggy look in his eyes.

The crowd sat in stunned silence at the sight of their fallen champion. A few who had dared to bet on Timlin cried out in delight.

"Well done, Timlin," Tolus called down. "Now kill him before he recovers."

Timlin sheathed his Flayer. The crowd booed.

"This is a fight to the death," Tolus shouted. "People have good money at stake. If you don't finish him, I will have both of you killed."

"I won't do it!" Timlin shouted back. "Not for a bunch of cowards." He wondered if this was the end for him-if he would soon lie riddled with arrows and bleeding out his life. He was terrified, but determined to fight to the death.

His face crimson with rage, Tolus and his men came down to the arena. Tolus strode up to Timlin, shaking his fist at him. "Lad, you better finish Oaran off. This is your last chance to win your freedom. Otherwise, I'll take both of you back to your cell, and tomorrow I'll throw both of you in here with some Ogres!"

"Take me back to my cell," said Timlin.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," said Tolus. "Dying at the hands of an Ogre is a terrible fate. Think carefully."

Timlin said nothing, but Tolus' warning made his legs want to buckle. The Ogres would tear them to pieces. Yet Timlin's mind could not be changed.

"Then I truly pity you," said Tolus.

***

The next day, Tolus warned them it would now be two days before they were thrown to the Ogres, and that they would not be fed but could have stale water. After that, the Grey Dwarf didn't show himself again.

Oaran was enraged at Timlin. "You little fool! You had a chance to finish me and save yourself. Now we're both going to die."

"I couldn't do it," said Timlin, shrugging.

"Tolus would love to keep you alive," said Oaran. "But you're dangerous and don't follow his orders. I'm dead no matter what, but if you can convince Tolus that you're sorry and beg for a second chance, he might well grant it."

"It doesn't matter," said Timlin. "I just can't bring myself to kill people in the arena. I don't want to die, but I guess I'd rather die than murder people."

"It's not murder," said Oaran. "It's survival."

"Whatever it is," said Timlin, "I want no part of it."

Oaran bowed his head, his face gloomy, and the two sat in silence for a while. Then Tolus rushed into the hall and, with shaking hands, unlocked their cell. Tolus was alone and his sword was sheathed.

Timlin rose, ready to make a move. But the fearful look on Tolus' face warned Timlin to hold back.

"Timlin, you're free to go," said the Grey Dwarf.

"Why?" said Timlin, wondering if it was a cruel trick of some sort.

Tolus shook his head. "No time to explain, but I'd rather you left that cell and got out of here. I don't want any further trouble!"

"Trouble with who?" asked Timlin, completely baffled.

Tolus frantically motioned to Timlin. "The Blood Legion has come to Rogue Haven, and they want you. Now just go!"

Oaran rose, his eyes hopeful. "Better do it, Timlin. Just get out of here. It might be your only chance!"

Timlin started forward, and then a clanking sound arose. A bulky, armored Knight entered the hall, accompanied by two bearded giants carrying battle axes. The Knight wore dark, exquisitely crafted armor and his face was concealed by a helm from which two yellow eyes peered out. Timlin gasped when he saw the large gauntlet that covered the Knight's right hand and forearm-the Hand of Tharnin.

"The demon man!" Timlin cried, shrinking back.

"Something evil comes!" Oaran said, his eyes filled with fright.

Tolus stepped aside, his face pale. He pointed at Timlin. "Here he is, and as you can see, your lordship, he is unharmed."

The Black Knight and his giants paused before the cell. Timlin could sense the aura of the Deep Shadow-immensely strong and radiating from the gauntlet, yet somehow carefully controlled. "Timlin Woodmaster," said the Black Knight, in a deep voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Timlin. "We are together again, and I couldn't be more pleased!"

"What do you want with me?" Timlin said. "I'm not part of Dremlock anyone. I don't care about you."

"Yet I care about you," said the Black Knight, "my dear friend. I had a bit of trouble tracking you down, but now that I've found you, I have a question for you. How would you like to be a member of the Blood Legion?"

Timlin gazed on in confusion, wondering if this was some wretched prank that Tolus was playing. But Tolus looked genuinely frightened.

"You think I'm the demon man, huh?" said the Black Knight. He chuckled. "Perhaps if I remove my helm, you won't look so terrified." He removed his helm-to reveal the smiling face of Vorden Flameblade.

Timlin gasped. "How…how can this be?"

"I too betrayed Dremlock," said Vorden. "I stole the Hand of Tharnin and now I control it. I am now the leader of the Blood Legion." He raised the gauntlet, and the blue stones captivated Timlin. "It's all thanks to this. Turns out the so-called demon man was weak, and the gauntlet controlled him. But once I claimed the device for myself, it opened my eyes to the truth. I realized Dremlock is the true evil in Silverland. Instead of making a pact with Tharnin, the Knights continue their foolish war and so many lives are lost. The Blood Legion wants peace for the land and knows exactly how to achieve it."

Timlin nodded, but remained uncertain. When he'd left Dremlock, he'd been full of rage and ready to join with Dremlock's foes. But something had changed in him a bit, and he'd begun to question himself and what was right and wrong. "But are you sure you control the gauntlet, Vorden?"

"Very sure," said Vorden. "If I didn't, I would probably kill you just for fun. Instead, I want you to be a Legion Master."

"What about the Legion Council?" said Timlin, stunned at Vorden's statement. "Wouldn't they have to approve such a thing?"

"My word is law," said Vorden. "The Legion Council obeys me. Unlike Dremlock, the Blood Legion has a supreme commander-a Black Knight who all must serve. I have been appointed to this position. "

"There was another who was called a Black Knight…" said Timlin, thinking of the man who'd claimed to be Tenneth Bard. Timlin wondered what had become of him, and if Vorden had somehow taken his place. He shuddered inwardly at the thought, but he was hopeful Vorden was not a slave of Tharnin as Tenneth Bard had seemed to be. If anyone could resist the power of the Deep Shadow, Vorden seemed to possess the strength of will for the task.

"I am in charge now," said Vorden. "Do not question it."

Timlin again found himself gazing at the gauntlet's hypnotic blue stones, and his fears slipped away. He grinned. "This seems too good to be true! I never would have imagined I'd see you here, in command of the Blood Legion. I almost feel like I'm asleep and will awaken in misery in my prison cell."

"You're not dreaming, my friend," said Vorden. "Master Timlin… How do you like the sound of that? You will fight by my side."

Tolus shrank back, his body trembling.

Oaran simply gazed at them with wide eyes.

Timlin fixed his angry gaze on Tolus. "So I'm now a Legion Master, Vorden? Does that mean I command those giants?" Timlin felt a rush of exhilaration at the thought that he was in command-gone from slave to leader in an instant.

"They are at your service," said Vorden, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.

Timlin pointed at Tolus. "Seize him!"

Scowling, the giants grabbed Tolus' arms. They roughed him up a bit and forced him to kneel, yanking his head back to expose his throat.

"Release me!" Tolus pleaded. "I mean no harm!"

"This Dwarf made me a slave," said Timlin. "He beat me and starved me, and made me fight against my will."

Vorden's face darkened. He turned and seized Tolus' throat with the Hand of Tharnin. "Give the word, Timlin, and I will crush him!"

Timlin considered it, then shook his head. "I don't want him dead. But I want all of these slaves freed. Can we do that, Vorden?"

"We can do whatever we want," said Vorden, grinning, "and if anyone opposes us, they will quickly regret it."

"Then after we free the prisoners," said Timlin, "I want this whole tavern burned to the ground. Boot everyone out and we'll set it on fire!"

It was easy to see that Vorden had changed-his yellow eyes alone told the tale. Timlin feared what he'd become. Yet Vorden did seem confident and in control of his destiny, and Timlin was too focused on his current situation to fret over such things. He could worry about Vorden later.

Vorden laughed heartily, while Tolus begged them not to destroy his business. "I like your thinking, Timlin," said the Black Knight. "Let us burn this dung pit and leave this pathetic Dwarf to rule over ash."

Timlin smiled at Oaran. "You're free to go and see your family, and you'll never have to kill again. Good fortune has found you today, my friend. It has found both of us!"

But Oaran did not return the smile. His face was grim. He stared at Timlin with a look that would haunt the lad-a mix of fear, pity, and disgust. And then he fled the hallway without looking back.

Chapter 17: Giants in the Snow

Timlin was surprised to find that fall had surrendered to an early, vicious winter while he'd been in the dungeon. As the tavern burned to the ground behind him, black smoke curling up toward the heavens, Timlin stood in the swirling snow that was piling up in the little town of Rogue Haven.

The villagers had all retreated indoors out of fear of the Blood Legion. A small battalion of Legion Soldiers sat on horseback-mostly grim-faced, bearded giants who wore heavy armor and carried battle axes and war hammers. Timlin was given a fine horse to ride and a fur cloak to wear, and he sat tall in the saddle next to Vorden. He was still stunned by the fact that he was now a Legion Master and second in command only to Vorden. The power had been granted too easily and too quickly, and Timlin was overwhelmed by it-unsure how to behave. He didn't know if the Soldiers would accept him so easily as a leader.

"We must ride north quickly," said Vorden, "to Dorok's Hand, our great fortress. Dremlock has sent an army to destroy us."

"What will we do?" said Timlin, imagining a sea of Divine Knights marching ever closer. When you were a foe of Dremlock, the kingdom was terrifying. The Divine Knights seemed to harbor endless secrets.

"Do not fear, my friend," said Vorden. "We will be ready. Destiny is at work in our favor-bringing two former Squires together to lead the Blood Legion to victory. The Legion sorcerers believe it to be so."

"We're relying on fate?" said Timlin, not liking the sound of that.

"Of course not," said Vorden. He smiled at Timlin. "We also have a weapon that will ensure victory."

Timlin's gaze strayed to Vorden's gauntlet. Once again, the blue stones captivated him and eased his mind. "The Hand of Tharnin."

"Better than that, even," said Vorden. "It is a weapon backed by centuries of righteous anger. Can you feel that anger, Timlin?"

Timlin could feel it as he gazed at the blue stones-rage and hatred inside him. The gauntlet seemed to be revealing great truths to him. He realized he was now ready to kill in the name of justice.

"Lannon rides with the army," said Vorden. "He has sworn to kill us both. I tried to reason with him and failed miserably."

"Then we should kill him before he can kill us," said Timlin. His feelings of friendship toward Lannon seemed totally dead. Vorden's Hand of Tharnin was reaching deep into his mind and showing him great truths. Now Lannon was just a threat that deserved all of Timlin's spite.

"That is the plan," said Vorden. "However, I haven't given up on taking him prisoner if the opportunity arises."

"Why?" said Timlin, deeply puzzled.

Vorden said nothing for moment, and he looked conflicted. "Information," he said at last. "He knows secrets that could be useful to us."

"Are you sure you actually want him dead?" said Timlin.

Vorden's face darkened with anger. "Yes, and do not question my motives. You're like a brother to me, Timlin, but you lack faith."

"I'm sorry," said Timlin. "I do have faith in you, Vorden."

"Actually," said Vorden, "if Lannon would agree to join us-which I highly doubt he would ever do, considering his deep love for Dremlock-I would gladly spare his life. Otherwise, rest assured I will kill him."

As they guided their horses along the road that led north from Rogue Haven, the wind picked up, blasting snow into their faces. Vorden put on his helm, but otherwise seemed impervious to the cold. He sat like a metal statue on his horse. Timlin thought that Vorden's armor must be terribly heavy, yet Vorden didn't seem bothered by it in the least. The armor-clearly crafted by the hammers of Grey Dwarves and probably made of stout Glaetherin-moved fluidly as he moved. The gold designs on black seemed very dignified and seemed to suit Vorden's personality.

"It's custom armor," said Vorden, noticing Timlin's scrutiny of it. "I designed the look of it myself. What do you think?"

"It's incredible," said Timlin

"You can have your own custom armor and weapons," said Vorden, "once we get back to Dorok's Hand."

"That would be great," said Timlin. "Except I want something lighter."

Vorden chucked. "Indeed. This armor weighs a ton."

"I'm very curious about something," said Timlin. "How did you become the leader of the Blood Legion so quickly?"

"I was appointed by the previous leader," said Vorden. "But don't ask any questions about him. He favors secrecy."

"Tenneth Bard?" said Timlin, unable to help himself.

"I said don't ask," Vorden muttered.

"How are the Soldiers reacting?" said Timlin. "I mean, do they accept you?"

"They're terrified of me," said Vorden, with a laugh. "This Hand of Tharnin scares the wits out of everyone."

"I'm not afraid of it," said Timlin. "Not when you possess it."

"It's really quite remarkable," said Vorden. "Not long ago I was nobody. Then I put on this gauntlet, and suddenly everyone bows before me. I actually have Lannon to thank for it all-and so do you. He made us important, Timlin. Without Lannon, we would have remained obscure. Sure, we could have become great Knights, but he opened doorways that have led us to this glory."

"It feels very strange," said Timlin. "Two Squires leading an army. I still can't quite believe this is real."

"Former Squires," Vorden said. "And yes, it is strange. But no stranger than Lannon being so prized by Dremlock. In youth, there is hope. We represent the future of the Blood Legion-the future of Silverland itself."

"Can we really do this?" said Timlin. "Can we lead an army?"

"We certainly can," said Vorden. He raised his gauntlet and clenched the metal fingers into a huge first. "As long as I have this, we can. It's all about power, Timlin. Age and experience mean nothing. The oldest, wisest warrior must bow before a greater power. That's why my master gave me control."

"Your master," Timlin echoed. "Will he be my master too?" He realized his heart was pounding in anticipation and dread.

"I don't know," said Vorden. "And it doesn't matter. What matters is that we defeat Dremlock, so we can live in harmony with Tharnin."

One of the Legion Soldiers drew up alongside them on his horse. "Master Vorden, we should set up camp early tonight, unless the blizzard lets up."

"We are in a hurry, Galthak," said Vorden. "We must make the most of daylight. In case you've forgotten, Dremlock is on the move."

"But if we get caught in the storm after dark," said Galthak, "things could be rough. When the snows rage in these lands, it is nothing to fool with." Galthak was a heavily muscled Grey Dwarf-bulky even for a Legion Soldier. His face was split by a hideous scar-a face that looked displeased with Vorden.

Vorden hesitated, then said, "We ride for Dorok's Hand, and we will camp in the evening as usual. Do not question me."

Galthak's face turned crimson with anger, but he bowed. "Your word is law, Master Vorden. We will ride until evening." He drew away from them.

Vorden glanced at Timlin, again raising the Hand of Tharnin. "Because of this, Timlin, even a great Legion warrior like Galthak must obey a young fool like me. Remember that, and never doubt your potential."

Timlin smiled, loving Vorden's attitude. Whatever lessons he'd learned in the dungeon of Rogue Haven seemed forgotten-washed away by the blue glow from Vorden's gauntlet. Timlin was filled with excitement and a rush of power. The only doubts that nagged him stemmed from the fact that Dremlock was closing in on them-the relentless Divine Knights and the so-called god that commanded them. He wondered what Vorden's secret weapon was and if it would be enough.

***

On the Boulder Plains, the blizzard had given way to a light snowfall. However, the snow was already so deep that the road was nearly indistinguishable from the surrounding plains. By afternoon, patches of blue sky broke through the clouds. The riders caught their first glimpse of the Bonefrost Mountains, which looked terribly cold and massive against the distant skyline.

It was an extremely cold day, and everyone was hunkered down in the saddle trying to stay warm. Occasionally daggers would erupt into sorcerous flame, as the riders warmed their faces or hands. As they drew closer to the mountains, the land began to slope upward slowly and steadily.

As evening approached, they set up camp next to some rocky outcroppings and pine trees, where huge snowdrifts surrounded them. After they'd erected their tents and settled in for the evening, one of the guards blew a horn in warning.

As the army poured from the tents, they found their camp being invaded by a large number of Goblin Bears. These huge white-furred creatures-larger than normal bears and equipped with longer teeth and claws-were very skilled at hiding in the snow, and even the Elder Hawks and Rangers had failed to spot them. As the Bears charged into the sprawling camp, they tossed snow with their shovel-like paws, creating blinding flurries and confusing the Knights.

A very chaotic battle ensued, as the Knights struggled to organize a defense against the Bears. The flying snow created mass confusion, and even the Divine Shield found itself broken apart. All over the camp, Bear and human were locked in combat amidst sheets of blinding snow.

"Stay together, Squires!" Furlus growled at them. He ordered a wall of Knights to surrounded the Squires, but the rampaging Bears quickly broke through and scattered it. There was simply too much flying snow and too much chaos to hold formation. The speed and violence of the assault had caught the Knights off guard.

Trenton Shadowbane was crushed into a snowdrift by a dying Bear that was wounded by arrows, and he was trapped beneath its heavy bulk, his arms pinned awkwardly. The Investigator's face was crimson with strain as he sought to push the beast off of him. He cried out for help, but no one was able to assist him.

A massive Bear, pierced by two lances and critically wounded, nearly ran Lannon over, but Shennen yanked him out of the way just in time. As the Bear halted its charge and reared up, Shennen plunged his sword into its back, bringing it down from behind. Still, the Bear shuddered and tried to rise. Shennen struck twice more-two swift thrusts that found the heart-and the beast went still.

A Bear charged at Vannas, smashing two Red Knights aside and sending their battle axes flying. His eyes wide, Vannas fumbled around in the pouch and drew out the White Flamestone. With only seconds to spare, he held forth the blazing crystal and white light drove into the charging beast. The Bear exploded into pale fire and was flung backward into a blazing heap.

Jerret hacked at a charging Bear with his sword, but the Goblin knocked the weapon from his hand and bore the Squire into a snowdrift. Jace leapt on the Bear's back and slammed his fist down on its skull. The Bear flung Jace away and rose, roaring its fury, but its legs now seemed wobbly and it looked dazed-wounded deeply by Jace's sorcery. Aldreya hurled green fire from her dagger that burned through the creature's chest. The dead Bear fell toward Jace but he sidestepped it, calmly brushing snow from his cloak.

Jace pulled Jerret from the snowdrift. The Squire looked dazed and frozen, but was unharmed. Jerret grabbed his sword and stood on shaky legs, a wild look in his eyes. "There are too many of them!" he cried, even as another Bear charged past Jerret-so close it nearly knocked him over.

Furlus tore into a Bear with his huge battle axe, killing it with one stout blow. The Bear fell on top of the Grey Dwarf, but Furlus shoved it off him and rose in time to hack at another Bear, his eyes filled with battle lust. "Guard the Squires!" he shouted at any Knights close by.

The Knights tried to close around Lannon and his friends, but again the blinding snow and rampaging Bears scattered them. Knights were flung this way and that, weapons and pieces of armor tumbling into snow drifts. The beasts were too heavy to be stopped, smashing through several Knights at a time. The way their odd, shovel-like paws tossed the snow in fine, misty sheets was almost hypnotic to watch. It was as if the entire camp had been struck by a terrible blizzard.

A Bear charged at Lannon and Vannas, throwing snow into their faces. Vannas stumbled and fell to one knee, his face and hair caked with snow. But Lannon was able to see the Bear with the Eye of Divinity in spite of the blinding flurry-a berserk shadow with a mind of ice and frost and a desire to crush other life forms-and he froze the beast in place. The Bear was immensely strong, and holding it for even a moment was very tiring. After the misty snow settled, Vannas struck with the White Flamestone and burned the Bear to ash.

Here and there Knights, Bears, and Rangers lay bleeding in the snow, as the battle raged on. Jace and Shennen stayed close to the Squires and tried to hold them together, but the flying snow was so extreme-and the number of attacking Bears so vast-that Lannon ended up separated and wandering through the maze of tents. Several times he used the Eye of Divinity to turn a charging Bear aside or freeze one in place for a Knight to kill.

Flashes of sorcery erupted all over the camp and sparks buzzed through the air. Black smoke rose toward the heavens, and the stench of burning Bear flesh hung thick all around. Blazing weapons rose and fell.

Lannon shoved a Bear off a Ranger-only to see that the Ranger had already been crushed to death. A Brown Knight was lifted high into the air by a growling Bear and snapped in two like a piece of wood, his broken body then flung into the snow. Some of the Greywind horses lay wounded, bleeding their life away-their powerful bodies struck down by paws that hit with the force of battering rams. Lannon cringed at the grisly sights around him. Divine Knights were very difficult to kill, but these Goblin Bears were extremely powerful foes. Casualties were piling up around the camp.

Desperately, Lannon wandered to and fro, using his power every chance he got to help those around him. He quickly neared exhaustion. On the other hand, Vannas' White Flamestone flashed repeatedly and tirelessly, leaving burning Bears scrambling everywhere. Lannon was left in awe of the Flamestone and found himself feeling deeply relieved that they possessed the weapon.

Lannon spotted an archer who'd been knocked from his horse and lay injured in the snow, just outside the camp. A Bear, riddled with arrows but still on the attack, was bearing down on the archer. Lannon froze the beast-barely. He was so far away from it that his power was in danger of failing.

Lannon ran toward the Bear, when another Bear charged him from the side and slammed into him. The impact would have been devastating-except the Eye of Divinity shifted on instinct and partially shielded him. Lannon was thrown several yards and landed stunned on his back in a snowdrift.

A shadow fell over Lannon. Looking up, he thought he would see the Bear hovering over him. Instead, he saw the bearded face of a huge warrior. The warrior held a two-handed battle axe poised for the downward stroke that would surely split Lannon in two.

Using what remained of his power, Lannon ripped the axe from the barbarian's hand and flung it aside. The barbarian's eyes widened. Then Lannon's power failed completely. He simply had nothing left.

Reaching down, the warrior rolled Lannon onto his stomach and bound his wrists painfully tight with rope. Still groggy from the impact of the Bear, Lannon slipped toward unconsciousness-wondering if he would ever awaken.

Chapter 18: The Prisoner

When the battle with the Goblin Bears was finished, nine Knights lay dead and sixteen more were seriously injured. Three Rangers, eight horses, and two wolves had also been slain. And dozens of Knights had been injured to a lesser degree. The landscape was littered with the bodies of dead Bears. Two Soldiers of the Blood Legion-who'd been commanding the Bears-also lay dead. The snows were stained crimson and black with blood and ash.

But only one member of Dremlock's army had been captured-Lannon Sunshield. The Squire had been thrown onto a horse and carried off with a group of retreating Blood Legion Soldiers. In the chaos of battle, none of the Knights had given chase, and by the time they realized what had happened, it was too late. Now the morale of the army was very low.

The remaining members of the Divine Shield met in Furlus' tent to discuss the situation. The atmosphere in the tent was tense and gloomy. Jerret was afraid they were going to abandon the assault on Dorok's Hand and retreat to Dremlock. He knew Aldreya and Vannas felt the same as he did-that they owed it to Lannon to try and rescue him. But he was certain the Knights wouldn't give much weight to anything the Squires said.

"So it has come to this," said Furlus, his voice heavy with bitterness. "We couldn't even defend our prized Squire, and it has cost us greatly. This is turning out to be a poor excuse for an army."

"This army is ill-fated," said Shennen, his head in his hands. "Too many forces are working against us. We should retreat to Dremlock."

"We can't retreat," Jerret spoke up, desperation in his voice. "Not until we save Lannon." Even as he said that, he wondered if Lannon was already dead, and rage towards the Blood Legion filled his heart.

"We did our best to protect him," said Jace, smoking his pipe and looking sullen. "That Bear assault was unexpected, to say the least. I've never seen anything like it. And Lannon was captured because he was trying to do too much. He shouldered the burden of saving everyone."

"He fought with great courage," said Aldreya. "If there is any chance he is still alive, we need to find him!"

"We're a bunch of fools," said Trenton, who'd suffered a broken arm and broken ribs from being crushed beneath the Bear. "Our foes are far better prepared for us than we are for them. They will just keep wearing us down before we ever reach the fortress of Dorok's Hand. And Lannon? Yes, my dear Aldreya, he fought very courageously. But you must accept the fact that he is finished."

Jerret wished Trenton would go away. The Investigator seemed ever at odds with everyone and annoying. Jerret knew the dark power that Trenton possessed-the ability to transform into some kind of wolf-like monster. Yet he'd failed to use that power in the battle with the Bears, for whatever reason, and now Lannon was gone. Jerret thought Trenton was a coward who preferred to let others fight his battles whenever possible.

"But we don't know that Lannon is dead," said Furlus. "They may keep him alive and try to learn his secrets. They may try to infect him with the Deep Shadow and persuade him to join their cause."

"Then we've failed on the deepest level," said Shennen. "For if they convert Lannon to their side, we will surely lose this war."

"Not necessarily," said Furlus. "Lannon may also regain his strength and escape before they ever get him to Dorok's Hand. He is very powerful and well trained, his sorcery unknown to them."

"And we still have the White Flamestone," Vannas reminded them. "The loss of Lannon is terrible, yet hope remains."

Trenton scowled. "I am so weary of you Squires speaking as if you've been granted Knighthood-as if you are members of the High Council. You're too young to know anything, and I must ask that you remain silent!"

Vannas glared back at him, but said nothing.

"I believe we have the right to talk, Trenton," said Jerret.

"Well, you don't!" Trenton snarled. "Especially you, Jerret. No worthwhile statement ever emerges from your mouth. You're nothing but a bumbling barbarian of a Squire, no better than those Legion Soldiers."

Jerret didn't bother to reply. Trenton was simply never going to like him or respect him, so there was no point in arguing with the Investigator.

"They have a right to speak," said Furlus. "They are members of the Divine Shield, Trenton. And Vannas is a Birlote prince and deserves greater respect."

"Thank you, Master Furlus," Vannas said, bowing.

"Members of a Divine Shield hold special rank," Furlus went on, "Squires or not. Try to come to terms with that, Trenton."

"What Divine Shield?" said Trenton. "Who are we protecting? Lannon is gone. We might as well dissolve it."

"Not as long as Vannas rides with us," said Furlus. "The Divine Essence blessed us with the White Flamestone and chose its bearer. As rough as things have been, this army was sent forth with the blessing of our god. That cannot be ignored."

"I understand that," said Trenton, "but perhaps even a god can be wrong. And are we really expected to serve blindly? Aren't Divine Knights supposed to question everything and seek the truth?"

"Trenton makes a good point," said Shennen. "The Divine Essence has been wrong before. So why can't our god be questioned?"

Furlus slammed his fist down. "Our god is never to be questioned. Its wisdom is far beyond that of us mortals. When the Divine Essence speaks, we obey. I am the commander of this army, and my word is final."

"And what is your word, oh Tower Master?" said Trenton, mockery in his voice. "To what grim end shall you send us?"

"We've suffered some losses," said Furlus, "but the bulk of our army is still intact. I'm guessing that battalion of Bears was the great ambush they had waiting for us. And while it cost us Lannon-and that is a huge loss indeed-it was otherwise a failure. We suffered a small amount of casualties and killed all of the Bears. I'm sure our foes expected us to take far more damage than that."

"I disagree," said Jace. "I think the Bear attack was only an attempt to kill the Squires and as many Knights as possible. If they had intended to finish us off, we would also have been attacked by an army of Legion Soldiers-lead by the Hand of Tharnin. Because Lannon was captured, I believe the Bear attack was actually a huge success-probably a far better success than they had hoped for."

"For once," said Trenton, "I agree with you, Jace."

"They need their Soldiers to defend Dorok's Hand," said Furlus. "They took Lannon away from us, but we killed their most prized beasts."

"Their most prized beasts?" said Jace. "I'm not so sure."

Furlus waved dismissively. "Mere speculation, Jace. I firmly believe that if we continue on, we can take Dorok's Hand and destroy the heart of the Blood Legion. Then we can march on Blombalk Fortress to the south."

"I have a grim feeling," said Shennen, "that if we continue on we may all die. Yet I have an equally grim feeling that if we retreat, Dremlock will fall."

"We owe it to Dremlock to keep going," said Furlus. "And we owe it to Taris and Lannon-and even to Vorden Flameblade, if that Squire still lives and is still a slave of Tharnin. But most importantly, we do not disobey the Divine Essence!"

"I don't know what the right path is," said Jace. "The Divine Essence could very well be sending us to our doom. Your god indeed makes mistakes, as history has proven. But I'm beginning to think we have to keep going and face whatever must be faced. Those Bears were a warning of how powerful the Blood Legion is becoming. This isn't just about money to me. I care about the fate of Silverland."

"We will camp for a few days," said Furlus, "and let the injured heal. Once the White Knights have done their work, we will ride for Dorok's Hand."

Trenton scowled. "And that is where we shall find misery and death." The Investigator rose and adjusted his cloak with the one hand he still had use of. His grey eyes were full of disgust. "I always knew you would lead me to my doom, Furlus." With that, he strode out of the tent.

Furlus chugged some ale and wiped his beard, his face sullen. "Good, the whiny man has left us. What a tiresome wretch he is. What about you, Jace? Are you going to whine in my ear now too about how we might lose this war?"

"Actually," said Jace, "I was hoping for a taste of that quality ale."

Furlus handed Jace a flask. "You've earned it. Drink up, for more bloodshed and sorrow await us on the battlefield."

Vannas' held up the pouch that contained the White Flamestone. "No sorrow for us, Master Furlus. Not if I have my say."

Furlus smiled. "You're a good lad, Vannas."

What about my say? Jerret thought. He imagined his sword ripping into Vorden and the former Squire falling to the ground in death. The whispers still haunted his mind. The fact that Vorden had made him a puppet was unforgivable. Jerret wasn't concerned with war. All he cared about was killing Vorden.

***

When Lannon awoke it was nighttime, and he was being hauled roughly off a horse by a Legion Soldier and made to stand in the deep snow. He was further up in the mountains somewhere, with steep, rocky cliffs all around him. The Blood Legion had set up camp on a drift-covered slope-a series of durable tents similar in design to the ones used by Dremlock. A few Soldiers wandered between the tents, keeping watch, while two Elder Hawks soared overhead.

The bright moon in the night sky looked frozen. It was terribly cold, and Lannon's hands were badly frostbitten from being tied behind his back during the ride. He wanted to thrust them into the pockets of his fur cloak before he ended up losing some fingers. They were so numb he couldn't feel them at all.

"If you try to escape or use your sorcery," said the Soldier, "you will be killed instantly. We won't try to capture you twice. Is that understood?"

Lannon nodded. "Where are you taking me?"

"For now, to a tent," said the Soldier. "It's time to sleep, obviously. Tomorrow we will ride to our great fortress."

"My hands are in rough shape," said Lannon, turning around to show him what was likely an ugly sight. He thought the Soldier might take pity on him and do something to warm them or at least untie him.

"They look a little frostbit," said the Soldier. "It's a common affliction in these lands. We covered them on the ride, but they must have slipped out from under the blanket. Regardless, you'll get plenty of time for healing, and I've seen worse. Rest assured you won't lose any fingers."

Lannon didn't find the barbarian's words or manner to be very reassuring. "Can you untie me so I can warm them? I promise I won't try to escape."

"Perhaps later," said the Soldier, turning Lannon to face him.

"But I can't even feel them anymore!" said Lannon, growing desperate. "Is this how the Blood Legion treats its prisoners?"

The barbarian scowled. "Be thankful you're even alive, lad. We're at war with Dremlock, and you're one of our foes. Your head could have been cut off and stuck on a pole in the snow for your friends to find."

Lannon had nothing to say to that. He was shoved into a tent where two Legion Soldiers were drinking ale. He sat shivering, feeling hungry and thirsty, wondering if irreparable damage had already been done to his hands. One of the men stuck a flask of water to his lips and allowed him to drink.

"Can you untie me?" asked Lannon. "My hands are numb."

The bearded barbarians laughed. "A thin-skinned little Squire from Dremlock," one of them said. "How do you like our homeland? So you come up here to raid our fortress and lose your hands in the process. I call that justice!"

"You'll get used to the cold," the other said. "Or else you'll freeze to death."

They laughed and banged ale flasks together.

In anger, Lannon summoned the Eye of Divinity and found some of his strength had returned. He considered the implications of using it-whether or not it would get him killed. They obviously wanted him as a prisoner, probably to bargain with Dremlock or try to convert him to the will of the Deep Shadow, but he guessed his status could change instantly if he tried anything. He decided to wait, let his strength build, and watch for opportunities. However, he told himself that if they didn't free his hands soon he would be forced to take action.

Lannon was deeply frustrated with himself for getting captured while surrounded by an army of Knights who would have died defending him. He was also terrified that he would end up tortured, dead, or enslaved by the Deep Shadow. He silently cursed himself for being so foolish.

"Can't you just untie my hands?" he pleaded.

"I'll agree to it," said a barbarian, "if I can cut them off. Then you won't have to worry about them anymore and you can shut your mouth."

Again, they laughed and toasted with their ale flasks. Lannon's face grew hot with anger, but he did nothing. His patience was running out quickly, though. He found himself hating his captors. They seemed like nothing more than savages, and Lannon found it hard to believe that many members of the Blood Legion were Knights who'd been expelled from the Order. They all seemed the same to him-bearded, gruff giants who were full of spite.

Moments later, a bulky Legion Soldier armed with a crossbow entered the tent and sat down across from Lannon. He motioned for the other Soldiers to leave, and they grinned at Lannon before exiting the tent. The newcomer's face was weathered and scarred beneath his huge beard, his eyes sullen. He pointed the crossbow at Lannon's chest. "I hear you're blessed with powerful sorcery. But can you stop an arrow in flight? Now that would truly be some trick, wouldn't it?"

Lannon glanced at the crossbow, wondering what it would feel like to be pierced by the arrow. "I'd rather not find out," he admitted.

"I could shoot you and be done with you," said the solider. "Maybe I should, before you get your strength back. A sorcerer like you is really too dangerous to be left alive-in spite of what my master thinks. Tell me, Lannon Sunshield, are you planning to kill me and try to escape?"

Lannon shook his head. "Not at all. I'm just cold and hungry. I'm hoping someone will untie me so I can warm myself."

"My name is Dalvin, by the way," said the Soldier. "I am a Legion Master-which means I am now your master. You will address me with respect."

"Can you untie me, Master Dalvin?" Lannon asked politely.

"I'm still deciding whether or not to just kill you," Dalvin said. "Until I've worked out that issue, don't worry about anything else."

Lannon studied Dalvin in the lantern light, amazed at how rugged and scarred the Soldier was. It seemed Dalvin had been through a thousand battles with the Knights of Dremlock. Lannon probed him with the Eye of Divinity and glimpsed a defiant, unyielding spirit that guarded many deep fears-fears for his family, his homeland, and the future of the Blood Legion. Yet there was an even deeper fear lurking within him-the fear of those who fought alongside him who were corrupted by the Deep Shadow. Dalvin feared and hated Tharnin, but he viewed it as a necessary evil. Lannon also saw that Dalvin was likely to blindly cling to his beliefs if only to validate the cause he'd fought so hard for.

Dalvin gave Lannon a sly, knowing look. "I sense you're probing my secrets, lad. Well, you should be careful believing everything you see. I could be putting false information in your mind."

Lannon saw right through Dalvin's words. He watched as the Legion Master tried to shore up his will and shield himself from the Eye. Dalvin had no clue how deeply Lannon could peer into him. He was afraid of Lannon and was in fact considering killing the Squire. Lannon wondered how he could ease his fears.

"I don't care about your secrets," Lannon lied. "But I think you're afraid of me, and you shouldn't be. My hands are pretty much ruined from the cold. All I really want right now is to try to save them."

"You can't fool me," said Dalvin. "I know you're a dangerous one."

Yet Dalvin relaxed a bit, and so Lannon let the Eye of Divinity retreat inside him and resorted to a Knightly healing technique that involved meditation and focus. But with his hands still exposed, and the interior of the tent very cold, he wasn't sure he would make any progress.

Dalvin finally let his guard down some and lit a pipe. He produced a pouch of jerky and chewed some, then offered some to Lannon.

"My hands are tied," Lannon reminded him, sighing.

"And why does that concern you?" said Dalvin. "I know that rope can't hold you. But I want to see for myself. Break the rope."

Lannon hesitated, wondering if Dalvin was simply looking for an excuse to put an arrow through his heart. He again searched Dalvin's intent with the Eye, but this time Lannon had trouble sensing his mood for whatever reason. Finally, knowing he had to take a chance if he wanted to save his hands, Lannon seized the rope with the Eye of Divinity and pulled it apart. He brought his bruised, trembling hands in front of him to show Dalvin, then thrust them into his pockets.

The Legion Master nodded. "You broke stout rope with ease. You could kill me here and now, crossbow or not. Am I right? Don't lie to me."

Lannon shrugged. "I don't know, but I don't plan to try." Sensing Dalvin's agitation, he added, "And if I did, then what? I couldn't kill everyone in the camp, and if I tried to escape, your Soldiers would just finish me off. I don't want to kill anyone. I just want to rest, heal, and eat some food."

"I'm under orders to bring you to Dorok's Hand alive if possible," said Dalvin. "I'm sure you guessed that. However, my master knows you're dangerous and so I have permission to kill you if need be-at my discretion. So if you try anything foolish at all…"

"Your master is Tenneth Bard?" asked Lannon.

"Do not speak that name again!" Dalvin growled, raising the crossbow.

"I'm sorry," said Lannon. "I didn't mean to offend."

Dalvin lowered his weapon. "You know who my master is. You're the one who led him to this fate."

"Vorden?" said Lannon. "He now leads the Blood Legion?" Lannon wasn't surprised, but he wondered what had become of Tenneth Bard.

"That's right, lad," Dalvin sneered. "And if you're wondering-do I think a mere boy should command the Legion? Of course not. But he does command it, and I am sworn to obey. Vorden wants you taken to Dorok's Hand alive. Not sure what grim plans he has for you, but I wouldn't want to be in your situation. Well, you brought it on yourself."

"What did I do to deserve this?" said Lannon, suddenly gripped by anger. "That Hand of Tharnin device took control of him and turned him into a puppet of the Deep Shadow. I had nothing to do with it!"

Dalvin smiled. "You live under a pathetic illusion, Lannon. You were Dremlock's most prized servant. Vorden was a friend of yours. Have you ever considered the fact that you may be cursed? No, you've probably believed you were blessed by the Divine Essence. How arrogant and misguided. Maybe you should begin to consider the notion that you're a catalyst for doom to those around you."

Dalvin's words stung Lannon, and he pondered whether or not there was truth in them. Both Vorden and Timlin-his two closest friends-were now corrupted. Maybe he was cursed, bringing suffering and evil to those closest to him.

"I think you're a bad fit for Dremlock," Dalvin went on. "You could change your fate and fortune by joining your friend-if that is what he seeks from you. The Blood Legion would benefit greatly from a sorcerer of your talents."

Lannon started to protest, but then he considered the fact that he was better off playing along. It wasn't Lannon's nature to be dishonest, even when his life was threatened, but many lives were at stake besides his own. "I admit I am tired of the way things are at Dremlock," he said. "I was there less than a year, yet the Knights sent me blindly into danger repeatedly."

"They don't care about you, really," Dalvin pressed on, pity in his gaze. "You're just a tool to be used until you break. Then you will be discarded and replaced. The Legion doesn't treat its Soldiers that way. Here, you would be valued and respected. And you can help us crush the army of Knights at our fortress gates."

Lannon's anger returned. "I doubt you're going to win."

"Oh, we will win," said Dalvin, grinning. "Let's just say we have an edge the likes of which Dremlock can never prepare for."

Lannon probed Dalvin with the Eye, trying to learn what that "edge" might be. But it appeared the Legion Master didn't know, in spite of his excitement. He was simply repeating what he'd been told.

Dalvin gave Lannon a water flask and some jerky. "When you're done eating, try to get some sleep, for we ride at daybreak. Meanwhile, just think about what I said-how you would be a good fit for the Legion and how you would be loved and respected by your fellow Soldiers-your brothers. Does Dremlock ever speak of brotherly love? I was once a Knight-Dalvin Skyaxe. I know how the Knights treat each other-with great respect, but never like true brothers. Dremlock is cold hearted compared to the Legion."

"The Knights care about each other," said Lannon. "They honor those who get promoted and hold extravagant funerals for the dead."

"It's not the same," said Dalvin. "The Knights don't even speak of love for the god they so blindly serve! Loyalty and honor, yes, but it ends there. The Knights are not brothers-not the way Legion Soldiers are. To serve Dremlock and its shattered god is a cold, lonely existence."

Lannon thought of how the Knights reacted whenever one amongst them was slain, and he could not agree with Dalvin. Obviously, the Legion Master had forgotten what it meant to serve Dremlock. It was true that the Divine Essence was a strange god in that it did not require love or worship. It demanded loyalty and respect and was spoken of with great reverence, but that's typically as far as it went. It was almost as if the Divine Essence did not consider itself a god at all-which made sense considering it was only a fragment of the White Guardian. Yet in spite of all that, Lannon would have given his life to protect the Divine Essence and would gladly spend his remaining years serving its will. Lannon realized that he did in fact care deeply for the Divine Essence, whether it was a real god or not.

Over the next few hours, Lannon worked on healing his hands. The technique was one all Squires had to learn and practice frequently-especially after harsh training sessions when muscles were sore-but since Lannon's Knightly Essence was very weak for a Squire of Dremlock, he was not highly proficient at it. However, he focused hard on his task, and it was a powerful technique that involved visualizing what he wanted accomplished-in this case, the healing of his hands-and repeating commands in his mind. Eventually some of the feeling returned to his hands. Soon they began to itch terribly. He ignored the itch and continued on with the technique, letting nothing distract his mind.

At some point during his meditations, he fell asleep and dreamt he was gazing up at the frozen moon. Its light was fused with the power of the Deep Shadow, washing away all hope. The moon was stalking Lannon, and he fled underground to escape it before it could claim his soul.

Once again the Eye of Divinity became the Eye of Dreams, and Lannon found himself in the smoldering chamber with the lava pool. He saw the dark figure again standing on the other side of the pool-only this time the figure wore the Hand of Tharnin, the blue stones in the gauntlet beckoning Lannon to his doom. The figure wore dark armor with runes that were glowing like liquid gold. Once again, something horrendous was moving about in the fiery pit-something so terrible it seemed to defy sanity. The dark figure laughed and said, "Soon you will join me, old friend." And it pointed into the pit.

Chapter 19: The Deadly Land

The next day was bright, with a blue sky above, yet it seemed colder than the day before. Thanks to his healing technique, Lannon's hands were doing much better in the morning, and he vowed to himself he would not let them tie him up again. But they left his hands free as they led him to a horse-obviously confident their crossbows would put an end to him quickly if he tried anything.

"You can ride on your own," said Dalvin. "I'm sure you know better than to try to escape. And I have faith that your word is good and that you won't try anything. I think you're an honorable lad." The Legion Master smiled and handed Lannon a pair of fur mittens. "These should be helpful."

Lannon knew Dalvin was simply trying to sway him to join the Blood Legion, but he was grateful for the mittens nonetheless.

"The going will be slow," said Dalvin, with the snow drifted so high and the terrain very steep in places, but we should reach Dorok's Hand by early afternoon." He patted Lannon on the shoulder. "We had a good talk last night. Master Vorden was wise to insist you be kept alive. In the short time I've known you, Lannon, I have come to trust that you'll do what is right."

Dalvin spoke in a sincere manner, yet Lannon saw through the compliments without even needing to use the Eye. But he simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Master Dalvin. I just hope we can resolve everything peacefully. Why should there have to be a war?"

"There will be no peace," said Dalvin, sighing. "Not with Dremlock coming to destroy us. The Knights will never leave us to our way of life, my young friend. In fact, they will try to kill us to the last Soldier."

Lannon said nothing, though he knew Dalvin was either sadly mistaken or merely putting on an act. The Knights would have gladly accepted the surrender of the Blood Legion. Yet Lannon saw a wonderful opportunity to warm up to his foes and pretend to give them what they wanted. They could not know that he was still fiercely loyal to Dremlock and had no plans to change sides.

As they passed on up into the mountains, Lannon wondered how far behind him the Knights of Dremlock rode. The clash between the two armies seemed inevitable, and the Squire shuddered at the thought of how much blood would be spilled. Like the Knights of Dremlock, some of the Legion Soldiers used sorcery (of a darker sort) and were well trained for battle. It would make for a horrific conflict.

"Soon you will be with your friend again," Dalvin said to Lannon in a low voice, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You would be wise to cooperate with him. The person you knew at Dremlock is gone forever."

"I can't believe that," said Lannon.

"Then you're a fool," said Dalvin. "If you go into Dorok's Hand with the notion of saving him, he'll kill you. He has no pity in his heart, Lannon."

"You hate him," said Lannon, seeing the contempt in Dalvin's gaze.

"To my very core," said Dalvin. "The fact that a mere boy rose through our ranks so quickly…it gnaws at me. I'm not the only one who feels that way-and he is well aware of it. Our anger amuses him."

"Will you betray him?" Lannon asked.

Dalvin scowled at the Squire. "And be a traitor to the Blood Legion? Never! And never speak of such a thing again! I'm merely trying to warn you that Vorden Flameblade is not the Squire you once knew. He is thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow and is completely unpredictable."

"Yet you want the Deep Shadow to prevail," said Lannon, "or you wouldn't be fighting against Dremlock. That makes no sense to me."

"Lies, taught to you by Dremlock," said Dalvin. "We want Silverland to live in harmony with Tharnin-to strike a bargain. We know it is possible. Yes, I despise the Deep Shadow just as you do, but this is a war that Dremlock can never win. The Blood Legion was formed as an alternative to Dremlock-a better way of bringing peace to the land. Yet instead of letting us do what must be done, the Knights have ruined our plans constantly over the centuries."

Lannon pondered Dalvin's words-and rejected them. Striking a bargain with Tharnin would undoubtedly mean the expansion of the Bloodlands and endless numbers of Goblins terrorizing the land. Dalvin seemed delusional-his mind twisted in ways he wasn't even aware of. A quiet groan escaped Lannon's lips at the thought that he was now surrounded by madmen, many of whom had been contaminated by the Deep Shadow and didn't even know it.

***

Dorok's Hand was an ancient Legion stronghold that had never been breached. The entrance was a forty-foot-tall cave mouth that led into the mountain, sealed by gates made of enormous logs. The fortress took its name from a towering, rune-covered statue, carved from the mountain wall, of a bearded warrior that stood beside the entrance, his hand outstretched as if to descend upon those who dared enter. Archers and Soldiers who tended catapults lined wooden platforms to either side, on high alert. Lannon gazed up in awe, imagining the terror that would reign down on Dremlock's army from those heights. Everywhere he looked were huge bodies, grim faces, and row upon row of weapons. And smaller cave entrances lined the mountain on either side, no doubt harboring more foes.

"What do you think of our divine kingdom, Lannon?" asked Dalvin, grinning broadly. "I'll bet you weren't expecting anything like this."

Lannon didn't reply. His throat seemed too dry for speech, the terror surging within him. The reality of what this war would mean-the epic loss of life-was finally clear to him. The terrain leading up to the cave mouth was sloped, and Lannon could imagine dying Knights and horses tumbling downward through the bloodstained snow. But beyond all that, the mouth of the savage fortress seemed ready to devour him. He wondered if he was entering a lair from which he would never return. It seemed only torment, madness, and death awaited him within. Lannon had never felt further away from the small cabin in the woods, where he'd grown up with his mother and father secluded from the outside world, than he did now.

Lannon tried to be strong, to think like a Divine Knight, but he didn't seem to possess the courage. He clung to a grain of confidence from knowing he still possessed the Eye of Divinity-a mysterious power that had never been clearly understood and struck fear into the hearts of Dremlock's enemies. But Lannon was shaking in his boots with a terror of the unknown that was so potent it was almost unbearable, as he wondered what horrors lay beyond that massive gate. His eyes kept straying back to the towering statue of the warrior, and he envisioned the great stone hand descending to crush him.

"Calm yourself, lad," Dalvin said. "Your face is as pale as the snow. Don't panic and do anything foolish."

"I'm fine," Lannon said, though that was far from the truth. In spite of all that had happened to him since becoming a Squire of Dremlock, he was still a young, frightened lad with a vivid imagination. But he was also filled with determination to find a way to avoid war-and that one hope rested with Vorden. As leader of the Blood Legion, Vorden might be able to call a truce if Lannon could find a way to reason with him-and if any of his former self still existed.

Dalvin pointed at warrior statue. "Dorok, the great Legion Master who made this our kingdom. The runes on his robe play tricks on your mind, Lannon, and enhance your terror. You can resist them."

Lannon understood, and he fought to block the sorcery from invading his mind. Grudgingly, some of his fright slipped away.

A horn sounded, and Soldiers seized ropes and pulled the huge gates open. The battalion surrendered their horses to the men at the gates and walked through into the mountain cavern, which was lit by rows of large torches that were connected to pillars that had been hewn from the rock walls. Massive crimson vines wound around the pillars-living plants that Lannon didn't recognize. At the end of the entrance tunnel were the mouths of three smaller tunnels. They took the one on the far right and followed it on a downward slope into the earth. Soldiers and trained Goblins wandered the tunnels-the latter causing Lannon to shudder. He couldn't imagine sharing living quarters with creatures of the Deep Shadow.

"Where are we going?" Lannon asked.

"To our forge," said Dalvin. "I was instructed to bring you there. Don't bother asking why, because I have no idea." He handed Lannon his Dragon sword. "You're not a prisoner anymore, if you ever really were. You're entitled to your weapon."

Lannon sheathed the sword. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," said Dalvin. "I know that sword-which is a fine blade by the way-spends most of its time in its sheath. Taking away your blade is kind of pointless, when your true power comes from within. Tell me something, Lannon. Why did you allow us to bring you here without putting up a fight?"

"I don't want anyone to die," said Lannon, with a shrug. "I guess…I guess I came here hoping to find peace."

Dalvin nodded. "You are indeed a noble lad. But life will soon teach you the way things truly are. Everything ends in violence and death these days."

"I can't accept that," said Lannon.

Dalvin shook his head in amusement.

"This is an impressive fortress," said Lannon, still intimidated by the size of everything. "I never imagined it would be so big."

"Yes, it's quite a sight," said Dalvin, his voice full of pride. It is filled with chambers and tunnels-not unlike the mines below Dremlock. This used to be called New Hammer Hall-the kingdom of the Grey Dwarves. Yes, there is an Old Hammer Hall, higher up in the Bonefrost Mountains. The Dwarves were masters at breeding plants that grow underground, and some of their ancient gardens still exist down here and provide us with food. They are amazing to look upon. Just wait until you see some of the mushrooms, which are as large as tents."

"If I live long enough," Lannon said gloomily.

"No reason you shouldn't, lad," said Dalvin. "You were taken prisoner for a reason, and you've been very cooperative. You'll get a good report from me. It's all up to you, Lannon. You can choose to join us and live an honorable life, or you can choose to stand against us and perhaps die as a fool fighting for the wrong reasons."

"You're very sure of yourself," Lannon mumbled.

Dalvin seized his tunic and brought his scarred face close to Lannon's own. "Yes, lad, I am very sure of myself! I've been fighting this war for decades, with never a doubt in my mind about whether or not it is right. Can you say the same for life at Dremlock? No, your mind is full of doubts."

A huge Jackal Goblin walked past them, accompanied by two Soldiers. It fixed its yellow eyes on Lannon and drool dripped from its muzzle. Lannon looked away, disgusted. "Yet you have doubts about the Deep Shadow," he said to Dalvin, motioning toward the Jackal. "You fear it."

"The Blood Legion stands alone," said Dalvin. "Tharnin works with us for a mutual goal-it does not rule us."

"How can you say that?" said Lannon, "considering who your leader is? I saw what happened to Vorden-what he became. I was there!"

Dalvin's face looked troubled, but defiant. "It doesn't matter. Vorden is just one man, and he obeys our laws ultimately. He must act for the good of the Legion. And I'm not going to argue with you, Lannon. As I said, the choice is yours. I did my part in delivering you here and I bear no further responsibility for what happens to you. You're not even a grown man yet and cannot distinguish truth from lies. In time, you will come to understand and willingly join our cause. As I said, a sorcerer of your talents would be very welcome here."

Dalvin glanced nervously along the tunnel and then lowered his voice. "But bear in mind that if you choose to spit on us and remain loyal to Dremlock for even an instant, I'm sure your old friend will crush you without a second thought. And I assure you, he loves to crush people. There is not a man in Dorok's Hand who isn't terrified of him, including myself."

"Vorden is not a killer," said Lannon, though he knew it was probably a silly thing to say. Surely, Vorden had no pity left in his heart. The Hand of Tharnin had likely stolen all of it away.

Dalvin chuckled. "Poor naive lad." He motioned Lannon along. "Anyway, we've talked enough. I actually like you, Lannon, and I wish you well. But now you must go to your fate-whatever it may be."

Lannon was left in silence to contemplate that fate as he was led to the Forge. He didn't actually enter the chambers where weapons and armor were crafted, but instead was led to a round cavern where barrels and crates stood-a storage room where Vorden and Timlin were chatting with a Soldier. A man-a Legion Soldier by the look of him-was bound with ropes nearby and slumped against a barrel, looking defiant yet terrified. Vorden's face was contorted in anger, his helm held in the crook of his arm. He gestured toward the bound prisoner as he talked.

When Vorden spotted Lannon, he broke off the conversation and hurried over, with Timlin at his side. Like Vorden, Timlin wore magnificent armor-white and blue in Timlin's case-that moved fluidly with his body. A sense of unreality washed over Lannon. He was reunited with his two friends and former Squires at last, but the circumstances were so bizarre Lannon could barely make sense of it. How had things come to this, and so quickly? He knew it was the Hand of Tharnin that had made it possible-that ultimate weapon of the Deep Shadow that could change the fate of the one it possessed in an instant. And by the devilish glint in Timlin's eyes, Lannon could see that the gauntlet's influence had extended to him as well. As they approached him, they moved like confident royalty-men of importance who were used to being obeyed. Lannon barely recognized them.

Vorden smiled in an obvious attempt to put him at ease-but his yellow eyes betrayed him. "Glad you could make it, my friend. I hope you were treated well on your journey." He started to pat Lannon on the shoulder with the Hand of Tharnin, but when Lannon flinched away, he switched hands for the task and chuckled. "Do not fear me, Lannon. I won't harm you."

Timlin nodded but didn't smile. His eyes were icy. "Lannon, good to see you again. Welcome to Dorok's hand."

Lannon sighed. "I see you've accomplished your goal, Timlin."

"Yes," said Timlin, finally giving a hint of a smile. "I'm now a Legion Soldier. Actually, I'm a Legion Knight, and second in command. It wasn't easy getting here, though, but well worth the struggle."

Lannon wasn't sure what to say and stood in silence. At last he said, "So now that I'm here, what is to be done with me?"

"I was hoping you would join us, of course," said Vorden. "When I spared your life and warned you not to come north-I knew you would come anyway. You've got the blood of a hero in your veins, Lannon. I expected nothing less than for you to end up standing before me."

Lannon shook his head in disbelief. "But attempts were made on my life, Vorden. You must have wanted me dead."

"Nonsense," said Vorden, waving in a dismissive gesture. "I knew you would survive. My real goal all along was to take you prisoner, though I knew it would be difficult. Are you referring to the Pit Crawler? I did not plan that attack, first of all. I was busy searching for Timlin when that took place. And the goal was not to kill you but to paralyze you and bring you to us."

"A Knight was killed by that creature!" said Lannon, wondering if reasoning with Vorden was even a remote possibility.

Vorden shrugged. "What of it, Lannon? Knights are going to die…a lot of them. We're at war, in case you forgot. And I warned you that when you came north, you would find that the Squire you knew at Dremlock was no more. I don't mind killing, now. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It makes me feel powerful."

Lannon was overwhelmed by disgust, but he hid his feelings. "I'm here to try to stop the killing, Vorden, to put an end to this war."

"You can't stop it," said Vorden, smiling. "If that's why you came here, you would have done better just to flee back to Dremlock. The Knights are on the way, Lannon. But they'll never enter Dorok's hand."

"Never," Timlin echoed, his hand on his bow. He looked more mature somehow, hardened and ready to kill.

"This has worked out perfectly," said Vorden. "Soon you will join us-the three former Squires together again, minus the foul Birlote Aldreya and Jerret the loser. Together we will rule all of Silverland forever."

"Do you want to live forever?" Timlin asked Lannon. "Now you can, with the power of Tharnin."

I'd rather die young, Lannon wanted to say.

"You set this all in motion, Lannon," said Vorden. "Without you, Timlin and I would be unknown Squires at Dremlock. Instead, we're practically gods. You want to blame the Hand of Tharnin when you should blame yourself. If you think we're monsters, then it was you who spawned us."

Lannon cringed inwardly at Vorden's words, for they stung him deeply. He did blame himself for making friends at Dremlock and getting others involved in his dangerous and bizarre existence. He'd reached out selfishly because he was lonely and afraid-and this was the terrible result.

"Your eyes are haunted, my friend," said Vorden. "But rather than blame yourself, you should give yourself credit. We're not the monsters you believe us to be. On the contrary, we will bring peace to this land."

Lannon was weary of hearing the Blood Legion talk of peace, and he still felt detached from reality-wondering if it all was a nightmare. "So what happens now, Vorden? If I don't agree to join your cause, will you kill me?"

"I won't kill you," said Vorden, "because you will join my cause. From the moment I chose to wear the Hand of Tharnin, I knew it was your destiny to fight by my side for a new purpose. Make no mistake, you will join Timlin at my side. Can't you see how fate is at work here? Look at us-together again!"

"You did not choose the gauntlet," said Lannon. "It chose you-against your will. Don't you remember, Vorden? Your memory is fading!"

For a moment, Vorden's eyes looked distant and confused. Then he shook his head. "You speak nonsense, Lannon. I remember seizing the Hand of Tharnin and…and placing it on my arm. It serves me."

Lannon sighed. "Try to remember who you were, Vorden."

Vorden's eyes narrowed. "I do recall exactly who I was-a foolish Squire who fought for the wrong reasons. But we've talked enough."

"Then what happens now?" said Lannon.

"Now you can watch while I deal with this prisoner," said Vorden, motioning to the bound man. "He was caught stealing from another Soldier, and I've decided to execute him right here and now. You can watch, Lannon."

"Vorden, don't do it!" Lannon pleaded, panic surging through him. "You're not going to kill a helpless prisoner!"

"You don't yet understand, Lannon," said Vorden, his eyes smoldering. "I am in command, and my word is law. I hold the power over life and death." He grinned slyly. "In my hand." He raised the gauntlet. "You can forget about the Divine Essence. I will show you how a god is supposed to behave!"

Vorden strode over to the bound prisoner, with Lannon and Timlin following. Vorden seized the man by the throat with the Hand of Tharnin. "When Soldiers break the rules, death is the only fitting punishment." The Soldier trembled, but his eyes burned with defiance.

"Master Vorden," said the Soldier who stood watching, "again, I beg you to reconsider! Talgad is a good man who simply drank too much ale and made a foolish mistake. He has always been fiercely loyal to the Legion. He has been a brother to me since we were young. Please, my lord!"

"Kill the rule breaker," said Timlin, grinning.

Vorden turned. "You beg me to spare his life, Mohar? Yet someone must be punished as an example for others. Will you take his place? If you agree to it, I will spare his life. But you will die."

The Soldier named Mohar nodded, his pace pale. "For my brother, I will do it. Yes, I will trade places with him so he may live."

"No, my friend!" Talgad groaned. "I'm the one who broke the rules. You shouldn't have to die over my actions."

"Mohar has been granted the choice," said Vorden. "And he has chosen death." Vorden turned and seized Mohar's throat.

"Wait!" said Lannon, the Eye of Divinity springing to life. He seized Vorden with his sorcery and yanked him away from Mohar.

Vorden turned toward Lannon, rage in his yellow eyes. He raised the Hand of Tharnin and the blue stones began to glow. Lannon's hold on Vorden was shattered. "Do not interfere with what must be done!"

"This is not the way to sway me to your cause," said Lannon. "You…you brought me here to join your Legion. Yet I'm not ready to see such sights. Just give me some time to adjust to this way of life, Vorden."

Vorden hesitated, then nodded. "Out of respect for you, Lannon, I will allow this wretch to live. Mohar, take your friend to the dungeon and have him flogged for his crime. That is all."

Timlin sneered. "That was pathetic, Vorden."

"I don't have time for any of this anyway," said Vorden, shrugging. "I'm about to make an excursion into a very dark place, Lannon. I would be honored if you would join me-so that you can witness Dremlock's doom. The time is right, but the beast must be given its orders. Soon the entire Divine Army will be a sea of broken bodies. And guess what? It won't cost me a single Soldier!"

***

It was nearing evening when the Divine Army drew close to the Blood Legion fortress. The going had been very slow, with the steep, snow-drifted terrain making it very difficult to continue pulling the wagons that contained the bulk of their supplies. Jerret was growing ever more nervous and impatient, fidgeting restlessly in the saddle. He knew Vannas and Aldreya felt the same.

"We shall ride right to the gates of Dorok's Hand," said Furlus Goblincrusher, who rode alongside the three Squires. "There, we will wait for them to make a move-be it battle or surrender. If they choose to fight, we will unleash the White Flamestone upon the gates and burn them down."

Jerret knew the Blood Legion would never surrender-not with Vorden and the Hand of Tharnin on their side. But Jerret had a plan to deal with Vorden, if he could get close enough to speak to him. He felt he was skilled enough to defeat Vorden in combat, as long as the Hand of Tharnin was kept out of the fight. It was a plan that could easily lead Jerret to his death, but he was determined to make Vorden pay for enslaving Jerret's mind-whatever the cost. The obsession with killing Vorden had grown to consume Jerret's life, and he felt that surely destiny must somehow bring the two Squires together in a duel to the death.

Jerret suspected that somewhere beneath the power of the demon that infested the Hand of Tharnin-and the monstrous will of the Deep Shadow-some of the old Vorden Flameblade still remained. But was there enough of the old Vorden left to compel him to accept a challenge from Jerret? Jerret realized that dreaming of revenge (especially against one of his former friends and fellow Squires) was not the way a warrior of Dremlock was supposed to conduct himself. He suspected that somehow Vorden had corrupted his heart with the Deep Shadow, fueling his hatred. Jerret's conscience warned him that he was on a dark path, but his desire for vengeance was too strong to be ignored. Time and again he imagined Vorden's blood-soaked body on the ground at his feet.

"This is what I was trained for," said Vannas, interrupting Jerret's thoughts. "To turn the mighty gates of Dorok's Hand into ash!"

"So that's why Dremlock decided to wage this assault on the fortress," said Jace. "The gates are no longer a deterrent. I should have guessed that. This will be the third time Dremlock, in its long history, has attempted to claim Dorok's Hand. The other two assaults resulted in disaster for the Divine Knights-with many slain. They never even entered the fortress."

"The wooden gates cannot easily be burned," said Furlus. "They are coated with a substance that resists fire. But the White Flamestone will not be stopped. Rest assured the gates will fall-and many Soldiers with it."

"Are you prepared to kill many men, young prince?" Trenton Shadowbane asked Vannas. "Dozens…maybe even hundreds? It will not be pleasant to witness-the cries of the wounded and dying. Yet you must stay strong."

"I am ready," said Vannas, though his eyes looked uncertain. "This is my purpose. This is what the Divine Essence chose me for. All those days and nights in seclusion, the endless lessons. I never thought I would actually end up here, ready to do my god's bidding and see the fruits of my labor."

"We'll see," said Trenton. "Our success may depend almost entirely on you, Squire. Bear that in mind!" With his broken arm and broken ribs still on the mend, the Investigator was slouched in the saddle, grimacing in pain now and then. He'd taken brutal damage from the Bear-to the point where even with his healing technique and the help of the White Knights he was still barely mobile. The constant riding and intense cold had also conspired to slow his recovery.

As they approached the gates-and the army of Legion Soldiers that was gathered in front of them-the Red Knights took the lead, their lances held ready. Next came Furlus and the Squires, surrounded by more Red and Brown Knights and wolves. The sorcerers and archers brought up the rear. Dremlock's army was larger than the one that awaited it, but the Legion Soldiers held a great advantage in positioning, having the higher ground-including the archers and catapults that lined the wooden platforms high above the snows.

Dorok's Hand was a shimmering wall of weapons and Soldiers ready to cast destruction down upon the Divine Army. Jerret gazed upward in awe, thinking that he would never get close to Vorden to take his revenge. In fact, he could only imagine dozens of arrows and boulders raining down until only dead bodies remained. For a moment, he thought they'd made a terrible mistake in ever coming here. The fortress just seemed too well defended.

Then Jerret glanced at Vannas, who held the pouch containing the White Flamestone, and hope returned. As long as the prince held that great gift of the Divine Essence, Jerret's dream of killing Vorden remained a possibility.

"Keep a firm grip on it, Prince Vannas," said Jerret. "They'll try to take it from you." He glanced up and saw Elder Hawks circling above-along with what looked like a Goblin Vulture. "And watch the skies!"

Vannas nodded. "It shall never leave my hand."

When the two armies were only a stone's throw away from each other, Furlus ordered a halt. He sent word through the ranks to beware of the terror-inspiring runes on the statue of Dorok. "Remember your training," he said, "and focus only on serving the Divine Essence."

Then the Grey Dwarf rode to the front of the ranks and waited, sitting fearlessly in the saddle with his arms at his sides. The archers on the platforms could have shot Furlus off his horse, but they made no move.

At last, a Legion Knight-a man as large as Jace-in dark armor and a horned helm rode forth to meet Furlus. His bushy black-and-grey streaked beard protruded from beneath his helm. He carried a huge battle axe in one hand while guiding the reins with the other. His horse was black and larger even than the Greywinds-some type of yellow-eyed Goblin Steed. He looked like death itself.

When the giant reached Furlus, he towered over the Grey Dwarf. Yet Furlus was imposing in his own right-a wall of muscle and stout armor that seemed as if it could never be breached. They conversed for a moment, gesturing occasionally toward both armies, and then the Knight rode back to the gates.

Word quickly spread through Dremlock's army that the Blood Legion was weary of fighting and was considering surrendering-but was still waiting for word from the Legion Masters. They'd asked to be granted until morning to make their decision. Furlus returned to the Divine Shield with a scowl on his face.

"I don't believe it," the Tower Master said. "I'm certain this is some kind of ploy to buy time while they prepare a defense or an attack. I almost think we should just launch our attack and end this quickly!"

"But what if they are sincere?" said Shennen. "Think of all the lives that would be spared. They know they cannot stop us-that we will tear down the gates and overrun Dorok's Hand. Maybe they truly are weary of fighting. Maybe the Hand of Tharnin is no longer a threat-for some reason we do not know."

"We should give them the benefit of the doubt," said Trenton. "It's not Dremlock's way to kill if it can be avoided. It's written in the Sacred Laws that we must give our foes a chance to surrender whenever possible. Well, they have agreed to speak to us and there is a possibility of surrender."

"We shall wait for their answer," Furlus said reluctantly. He turned his sullen eyes on Vannas-the eyes of a Dwarf longing to be unleashed into battle. "But if there is any hint of deception, young prince, you will use the Flamestone upon the archers and catapults on the platforms until they are incinerated-and then turn it on the gates themselves. And then, Dorok's Hand will run red with blood!"

***

Vorden and Timlin led Lannon through a series of tunnels into a large cavern with a pit at the middle of it. Lannon recognized it instantly as the cavern from his dreams-though in the dreams he'd assumed it lay in the mines below Dremlock. And while the pit in his nightmare had been full of lava, this one was cold and seemingly empty, save for a ring of torches that partially surrounded it. However, Lannon could sense the evil aura of the Deep Shadow rising from the pit, and it was indeed like a raging fire that threatened to burn away his soul.

"Soon Dremlock will reach our gates," said Vorden. "There, the Knights will wait to see if we're going to surrender. Meanwhile, we will prepare a most unpleasant surprise for them. Actually, I've been preparing it for days now, but the process is fairly slow. I want you to accompany me into the pit, Lannon."'

Lannon shuddered at the thought. The aura of the pit filled him with revulsion, and he knew it was the last place he would ever want to go.

"I should be at the gates," said Timlin, a nervous glint in his eyes as he glanced toward the pit "commanding our Soldiers in your absence. May I go?"

"And leave me alone with Lannon?" said Vorden, with a chuckle. "And what if he attacks me, Timlin? What if he tries to kill me?"

Timlin shrugged. "I can stay if you'd like-or send some Soldiers down here to assist you in dealing with him."

Vorden sneered. "I was joking, Timlin. I don't need any help in dealing with Lannon. Go on then and make sure we're prepared for Dremlock's arrival. Bear in mind that no sword is to be raised or arrow fired. If anyone tries to start the battle, kill them instantly."

Timlin bowed. "It shall be done, Master Vorden. Are you sure you want to be left down here alone with Lannon?"

"Just get going!" Vorden said, glaring. "Lannon isn't going to harm me. It's not his way, Timlin."

With a nod, Timlin departed.

"As I said," Vorden continued, "we are going into the hole. I have pressing business down there. And it will be a great experience for you."

Lannon gazed at the yawning pit in horror. "There is no way I will ever enter that pit. And I won't help you destroy the Knights."

Vorden glared at Lannon, then sat his helm on the cavern floor. "You're going with me, Lannon, if I have to drag you down there. I want you to understand what Tharnin is all about. There are only a small amount of portals like this in all the land, so you should welcome this wondrous opportunity to learn about the Deep Shadow. It's not what you think it is. Trust me, my friend."

Lannon readied the Eye of Divinity. "I won't go."

With a snarl, Vorden strode toward him. Lannon seized him with the Eye and froze him in place. "Stay away from me, Vorden."

"Don't be a fool!" Vorden growled, struggling to break free. "I don't want to fight you. You're like a brother to me."

"I don't want to fight you, either," said Lannon. "But I won't enter that evil pit!" He was surprised at how powerful the Eye felt to him-as if its strength had increased from repeated use. The Eye seemed to be growing and adapting.

With a hiss, Vorden broke free and lunged at Lannon, seizing his throat. "You're going to do as I say! You may have been Dremlock's most prized Squire that everyone fawned over, but here in my fortress you must obey my will!" With that, Vorden began dragging Lannon toward the pit. "We've talked enough. Time to find out what lurks below!"

In a panic, Lannon ripped the Hand of Tharnin from his throat and shoved Vorden away. "You want me to go in that pit and become a monster like you! Well, I'll never do it, Vorden! I'd rather die!"

Vorden slammed his gauntlet against the cavern floor and chunks of rock exploded into the air. "I'm not going to kill you, Lannon. Not yet, anyway. But I will render you immobile and force you to go with me!"

Vorden again hurled himself at Lannon and the two grappled with each other. Vorden threw Lannon against the cavern wall, but Lannon shielded himself with the Eye of Divinity and suffered no damage from the impact.

Enraged, Vorden charged at him again. Lannon stepped aside and, using the power of the Eye, flung Vorden against the rock wall with shattering force. Vorden staggered, then whirled around, the blue stones in the gauntlet glowing almost white hot. "Don't force me to crush you, Lannon!"

When Lannon tried to seize him again, Vorden hurled a fireball at the Squire. Lannon froze the blazing orb on instinct and flung it back at Vorden-who simply batted it aside with the Hand of Tharnin. The fireball struck the cavern wall and exploded into a shower of bouncing sparks.

Vorden hesitated, his rage giving way to a sudden, hurt look. "I never thought you would betray me like this, Lannon. All I asked was that you accompany me on a brief journey. I let you come into my fortress and walk freely about-not as a prisoner but as a trusted friend. I've offered you unlimited power. Yet this is how you respond-to ignore a simple request and lash out at me in anger?"

"I'm sorry, Vorden. I just can't do it." Lannon folded his arms across his chest to show that he wasn't going to budge.

"Then I will go alone," said Vorden, his yellow eyes narrowing. "And when I return from the land of shadows, there will be no mercy left in my heart. I won't just destroy Dremlock-but all of Silverland! Every man, woman, and child-slain! Every town-burned to ash!"

Lannon gazed at him in disbelief. "You would never do such a thing, Vorden, not even…even like you are now. You're lying to me!"

"I'm capable of anything," said Vorden, sighing. He seemed to wrestle inwardly with himself for a few moments. At last he added, "Maybe I just want you to come with me to…to try to talk me out of all this. Maybe I want you to stop me somehow. I'm out of control. Even my master has abandoned me now and gone back into hiding. He gave me power over the Blood Legion and now believes it was a grave mistake. The Hand of Tharnin is too powerful and too wicked for anyone to control. It should never have been created. You're my last hope, Lannon!"

Lannon glanced at the pit, wondering if Vorden was simply trying a new tactic to get him to go down there. And why was Vorden so desperate to get Lannon to go? Yet Vorden's eyes did look sincerely haunted. Lannon tried to peer into Vorden's thoughts, but the Hand of Tharnin turned his gaze aside.

"What do you hope to accomplish down there?" Lannon asked.

"I was going to command a terrible beast to fight for the Blood Legion," said Vorden. "This gauntlet was really designed to control the great beasts of Tharnin-creatures so powerful they typically can never be controlled by anyone. Any other abilities the gauntlet possesses are secondary. But now I want to sever my link to the creature that I've summoned. You can help me break that link-and help me rid myself of this terrible device. If we take it into the pit, we can destroy it!"

"That's a rather sudden change of heart," said Lannon. "Seems a bit too sudden. Are you trying to deceive me, Vorden, just to get me to go down there?"

Vorden shook his head. "Lannon, I'm fighting a horrific battle within that you can't imagine. Sometimes my mind is gone-enslaved entirely by the demon that lives in this gauntlet. Other times, I awaken as if from a fog, but it doesn't last long. I'm having one of those moments of clarity. When you threw me against the wall, it jarred me back to my senses. But it will fade quickly!"

Lannon groaned in frustration, almost certain that Vorden was tricking him. But Lannon was a hopeless optimist and couldn't ignore the slim chance that Vorden was being truthful. "Fine, I'll do it," he said at last. "But if things don't seem right, I'll turn back immediately and never trust you again."

Vorden nodded. "You won't regret this, my friend."

As they stood at the edge of the pit, Lannon found himself gazing down into a mass of curling fog. A wooden ladder descended into the fog. He turned a questioning gaze toward Vorden. "It's just mist down there."

"Just follow me," said Vorden, and he started down the ladder. Moments later, Vorden was completely concealed by the fog.

Reluctantly, Lannon climbed down after him, until he was standing on solid rock and engulfed by the mist. He gagged on the aura of the Deep Shadow. He could see nothing but the fog around him in the faint torchlight from above.

Suddenly, a blue glow broke through the fog-the stones from Vorden's gauntlet. "Follow the light, Lannon. A tunnel awaits us."

Lannon followed, but after a few steps, a shock suddenly tore through his body. His flesh shivered and his knees buckled. He was suddenly sick to his stomach. It almost felt like something was writhing around inside him-a dark force seeking to break free. He groaned and clutched his belly.

The blue light paused. "What's wrong, Lannon?"

"I don't know. I feel very strange."

"It's probably just the aura of the Deep Shadow," said Vorden. "It's immensely strong here. You should get used to it after a bit."

Feeling dizzy, Lannon started off again as Vorden led the way. Shadows seemed to move through the fog here and there-some with sinister shapes. The mist felt cold and clingy against Lannon's flesh, and chills crept over him constantly.

They walked for what seemed like an hour through a foggy tunnel, and then suddenly the walls of the tunnel vanished and the fog fell back a bit. Lannon could make out the shapes of huge, twisted trees growing right up out of the stone-the Dark Mothers. The foul stench of the Bloodlands hung in the air. Looking up, Lannon saw a ceiling of glowing fog about thirty feet above him.

"Where are we?" asked Lannon.

"We're on the edge of the realm of Tharnin," said Vorden. His face looked sinister-half covered in shadow in the glow of the fog. But he smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about here, though. It's a safe place."

A bit farther on they came to the base of a huge pillar that rose up into the mist. A stone stairway wound upward around it. "This is a Summoning Platform," said Vorden. "This is where I will make contact with the beast and send it back to its lair. Then, together, we will free me from the curse of this gauntlet. But we must hurry! I don't know how long my mind will remain free of possession. Once the demon has rested and gained strength, I will be lost again."

It was a long climb up the pillar stairway, which led them into the ceiling of glowing fog above. The fog was so thick Lannon couldn't see the edge of the stairway and he stayed as close to the pillar as possible for fear of falling. Shadowy figures lurched out at Lannon, startling him, before vanishing just as quickly. Lannon walked on shaky legs, thinking each step could be his last. Vorden, however, strode confidently up the steps, whistling some tune Lannon had never heard before. Lannon wasn't sure if he was even in the real world anymore, or if he'd entered some strange dream realm. The stone pillar looked webbed with veins and was warm to the touch-as if it were alive. Massive tree branches reached forth from the fog, some extending so close to the pillar that Lannon had to duck under them. Life seemed to be everywhere here, but it was barely recognizable-barren and shadowy creations always partially concealed by the mist.

At one point Lannon stumbled over a loose stone and started to fall, but Vorden whirled around and seized him with the Hand of Tharnin.

"Be careful, Lannon. It's a long drop."

Lannon flinched away from the gauntlet. "It's hard to see anything. Why all the fog, anyway?"

Vorden shrugged. "It's just the way of things here. As I said, we are on the edge of Tharnin, and it is a very foggy realm…filled with hidden secrets. The fog should slack off a bit as we climb higher. And why should the one who possesses the Eye of Divinity move so blindly?"

Lannon didn't answer. He had no intention of using his power to scan the fog, but instead kept it close to him to shield his body from harm. He didn't want to know what terrible secrets the mist concealed. This world was so different from his own it seemed to shock his system. It was as if he'd entered some spirit realm where living energy existed but life as Lannon knew it did not belong.

They continued upward until they reached the top of the pillar, which was a stone platform with three towering statues of Knights standing in a triangular formation. Each Knight held a different weapon, the business end of which rested on the floor-sword, axe, and hammer. Between the three statues was a circle of runes on the floor. The mist was more distant here and seemed to have an almost bluish hue to it, emitting a bright light upon the platform.

The sight of the Knightly statues left Lannon feeling a bit relieved. This, at least, was something he recognized and understood. The statues looked evil, and like the pillar itself, they were webbed with veins as if made of living rock-but they were a sign of human life and of a world Lannon could relate to.

Vorden stepped into the circle and raised his gauntlet. The blue stones became white hot, and the metal of the gauntlet glowed red. Lannon shrank back from the sudden heat and shielded himself with the Eye of Divinity. For a moment, Vorden stood there with his glowing gauntlet, as the three statues around him began to burn with a blue fire. Then the device seemed to cool again, along with the statues, and Vorden lowered his arm.

He turned and smiled. "Well, that takes care of that."

Something about Vorden's smile chilled Lannon. "So…so you sent whatever beast you'd summoned back to its lair? It's finished, then?"

Vorden laughed. "Look behind you, Lannon."

Even as Vorden spoke, Lannon became aware of a terrible stench-like a mixture of wet earth, decayed flesh, and pure evil. A blast of foul breath hit him from behind. Lannon whirled around-to see a nightmare.

The beast was a winged worm, a Great Dragon of Tharnin, hovering in the fog next to the platform. It was at least sixty-feet long from its horned head to its spiked tail-looking like a giant serpent with rows of small wings that beat so swiftly they were barely visible. It hovered like a dragonfly, and Lannon knew in an instant that it was capable of immense speed in spite of its bulk. Its scales seemed like living entities, shifting about as if each one were aware of its surroundings. Hanging from the scales were tube-shaped extensions that, with a black, curved spike on the end of each, resembled stinging weapons of some sort. The Dragon's head was the most hideous (yet captivating) thing Lannon had ever looked upon-two large, bulbous purple eyes with a hypnotic depth of color shades and textures and a long, wrinkled snout full of oversized teeth. Aside from all that, the creature seemed half-blended with shadows that squirmed over its body-shadows that, along with the moving scales-made the Dragon's entire bulk writhe in a repulsive fashion.

Lannon simply stood and gazed into the endless depths of those purple eyes, waiting to be destroyed. The Eye of Divinity retreated back inside him, his power useless against the colossal might of the beast before him.

But then the Eye suddenly exploded to life, and Lannon again felt sick to his stomach. Something as hideous as the Dragon seemed to be clawing its way to the surface within him-something utterly terrifying. Glancing down, Lannon saw that a shadow seemed to be covering his body-a shadow that had a crimson hue like blood. He thought the Eye was having some strange reaction to the overwhelming presence of the Deep Shadow, but he had no idea what it was. He remembered Jace's vision-of Lannon covered in blood-and wondered if this was what he'd seen.

Suddenly, Lannon was overcome by rage. He turned his back on the Dragon, not caring if it devoured him. He was flooded with a righteous anger that dissolved his terror. "You betrayed me, Vorden!

"Of course I did," said Vorden, laughing. "And it was so easy to do. Don't think ill of me, Lannon. I brought you here for your own good."

Lannon could only shake his head. "How is this for my own good? You're full of lies and you don't even know it!"

"I will be returning to my fortress," said Vorden. He pointed beyond Lannon at the Dragon. "And my little friend here will follow me. Soon it will emerge from the gates of Dorok's Hand and begin its assault on Dremlock and the Divine Essence. Nothing will stop it. There is no force in existence that can destroy a Great Dragon of Tharnin. They have existed since the dawn of time. To be honest, this gauntlet was not created to control all of the great beasts, for that would be impossible. It was created specifically to control this Dragon, after decades of careful research and sorcery experiments. It was created to destroy Dremlock Kingdom!"

"I believed in you, Vorden," said Lannon. "Even as you are now, I still believed there was some of your old self left in there." He clenched his hands into fists, overwhelmed with bitterness. "Well, I don't believe it now!"

"You were a fool to come here," said Vorden. "The Hand of Tharnin holds complete dominance over my soul-yet I willingly embrace it. This device was banished by the Tharnin Lords. They fear its power and consider it unstable. It was on its way to be destroyed when it fell into the hands of the farmer Vellera. My master-Tenneth Bard-then opted to violate Tharnin law and attempt to use Vellera to assassinate you, Lannon. When that failed, and the gauntlet fell into my possession, my master decided to go all the way and summon the Dragon to destroy Dremlock. And that's where things stand."

Lannon stood in silence, glowering at Vorden. Whatever dark force was writhing inside of him seemed about to break free.

Vorden sneered at him. "Goodbye, Lannon." With that, he started toward the stairway. "By the way, I betrayed you even worse than you thought. Soon you will find only love for the Deep Shadow in your heart."

As Lannon watched, a figure stepped out from behind one of the statues-a figure cloaked in black, with a face of violet eyes and shifting shadows.

"Tenneth Bard," Lannon groaned, his anger instantly replaced by sheer dread.

Chapter 20: The Behemoth

Before the gates of Dorok's Hand, with a few stars beginning to burn in the evening sky, Timlin and Furlus sat facing each other on horseback. Jerret and Aldreya sat beside Furlus on their horses, holding torches. The Tower Master had requested they ride with him to speak with Timlin in the hope that they could help persuade Timlin to surrender. The Squires gazed up fearfully at the catapults and archers on the torch-lit platforms by the gates, knowing that death could strike from above in an instant. They didn't want to be there-such easy targets out in the open-but Furlus Goblincrusher was not to be refused.

Jerret needed only a brief glance at Timlin's cold eyes and hard face to be convinced Timlin would never surrender. Timlin seemed to harbor a new confidence and maturity to go along with his fantastic-looking white and blue armor. He seemed like a leader, and even though Timlin had aligned himself with evil, Jerret couldn't help but feel impressed and a bit overshadowed. Aldreya, however, looked saddened and was clearly not impressed by Timlin's aura of importance.

Jerret wondered where Vorden and Lannon were-and if Lannon was dead or had been enslaved by the Deep Shadow. He knew Aldreya was wondering the same thing. He couldn't imagine what horrible fate Lannon had come to beyond those huge gates, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know.

Jerret made eye contact with Timlin, and Timlin's lips parted in a slight smile-as if he were amused Jerret had made the journey.

"So you're a pawn of Tharnin now," said Furlus. "Congratulations, Timlin. How does it feel to know you threw away an honorable career at Dremlock for a life of slavery and evil? Such a waste of a talented Squire."

"It feels rather good," said Timlin, smiling. "I never fit in at Dremlock and always had to pretend to be something I wasn't. Now I'm free to be who I truly am-with all of my faults. No one questions me here." He chuckled. "They wouldn't dare, or they might catch an arrow through the eye."

"We want you to surrender, Timlin," said Aldreya. "You don't have to do this. Dremlock doesn't want a war. If you surrender, you can begin to make a new life for yourself-away from all of this evil."

"That's right," Jerret mumbled. "We don't want a war." Actually, Jerret did want a war. He wanted to test out his sword skills on Goblins or Legion Soldiers-whoever got in his way. And above all he wanted to test his skills on Vorden. He was certain the Deep Shadow was in his heart-but only traces of it, filling him with a desire for combat and revenge. It had turned Jerret a bit savage. He knew it, yet he told no one and did nothing to change it. He liked who he'd become-with his newfound motivations, skill, and sense of destiny.

"Well, I do want a war," said Timlin. He grinned, his eyes showing an evil glitter in the torchlight. "And what I want, my men had better want. They're not allowed to think for themselves."

Furlus sneered. "So you're free to be a bully here-something you could never be at Dremlock. But you can't even begin to imagine what you've given up and the depths to which you've fallen. When you finally do realize it, it will come as a great shock to you. I pity you, Timlin."

Timlin shrugged. "Pity? Who cares? And you're wrong. I already suffered greatly thinking of what I lost by betraying Dremlock. It gnawed at me constantly. However, now I just don't care. I have power, and power cures every ill. Whenever something troubles me now, I just take it out on someone else."

Furlus nodded. "As I said, you're a bully."

"No," said Timlin, "what I am is the Blue Knight of the Blood Legion-second in command to the Black Knight. Are you second in command, Furlus? No, you're third on the list. A distant third, in fact, if you consider reputation. You'll never be second in command as long as Taris is alive."

"Enough of this silly talk," said Furlus. "You speak as if this is all some childish game. But the reality is that we are facing war, and many lives are at stake. Now are you going to surrender, or shall we get on with storming the gates? And you must know by now that those gates will come down, and when they do, and the Divine Knights flood Dorok's Hand, death will come quickly and decisively. Nothing will stop this army-not Vorden and his Hand of Tharnin, not even Lannon if you've done something to twist his mind."

Timlin hesitated, glancing back at his army, then said, "Vorden doesn't want bloodshed, for some reason that I can't fathom. He wants peace. The rest of the High Council agrees with him-probably because they're afraid not to. Personally, I would prefer we go to war, but my master's word is law. Therefore, I will agree to surrender Dorok's Hand-with some conditions, of course. Will you agree to hear my conditions? If not, then we might as well start the battle right now."

"I will hear the conditions," said Furlus.

"The Blood Legion is very proud," Timlin went on. "We do not take surrender lightly. The Soldiers would prefer not to have to throw down their arms in front of Dremlock's army. Rather, we wish to retreat into the keep, where we will remove our weapons and armor in private. Then we will emerge from the gates unarmed and surrender. You will have possession of Dorok's Hand."

"And you'll do it as soon as we're finished with this discussion?" said Furlus, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I'm tired of waiting. The gates will be opened and the Soldiers will retreat prior to surrendering? And what if it's a trick?"

"What sort of trick would it be?" said Timlin. "To retreat inside and leave the gates open and unguarded? That would be folly."

Furlus sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then he said, "What other conditions are there?"

"That the Legion Masters be granted their freedom," said Timlin.

"I refuse that condition," said Furlus, scowling. "The Legion Masters will return to Dremlock to face trial for their crimes."

"Then I simply ask for leniency on us," said Timlin, "due to the fact that we willingly agree to surrender with no bloodshed. Is that fair?"

Furlus considered it, then nodded. "I suppose that's a fair request. But once the gates are open, your Soldiers will have one hour to remove their weapons and armor and prepare for surrender. After that, my army will enter the fortress. If it turns out this is some form of deception, it will go very badly for you."

"You've made a wise choice, Timlin," said Aldreya, smiling. "This decision will preserve many lives."

Jerret said nothing, not liking this turn of events at all.

"Then go now!" Furlus ordered. "You have one hour."

With a nod-and a malicious grin directed at Jerret-Timlin wheeled his horse about and galloped back to his Soldiers. As Dremlock's army sat watching, the Legion Soldiers began to pull the gates open-a sea of torches parting as men tugged on the huge ropes.

"I can hardly believe it," said Furlus. "They actually plan to surrender. This is not typical of the Blood Legion at all."

"It must be a trap," said Jerret. "Maybe we should attack."

"It's not Dremlock's way, Squire," said Furlus, shrugging. "We are bound by the Sacred Laws to allow them a chance to surrender."

Yet when the gates were barely open, they suddenly shuddered and burst apart as a massive bulk slammed through them. The gates were struck with such force from within the keep that they sent men tumbling through the snow-some severely wounded-as they were shoved open. For a moment, revealed by torchlight, a huge, horned head and scaly body was visible, framed in the tunnel mouth.

Cries of shock and dismay arose from both Dremlock's army and the Blood Legion, as the Dragon soared out into open air. It rose up into the sky for a moment, its long, serpent-like body outlined against the stars, and then it descended on the men by the gates. The Dragon's stingers ripped into the Soldiers and several of them went limp-killed instantly by deadly poison. The beast hovered for a moment, the corpses still hanging from the stingers below its body.

Then the Legion Soldiers started to flee through the gates into the keep. Those on the platforms had to climb down rope ladders and risk the Dragon's wrath. Meanwhile, Goblins poured from the smaller cave mouths along the mountain wall, charging toward the Divine Knights.

Furlus was finally able to gather his wits, and he howled at the Red Knights, "Bring Vannas to me and surround us. Throw your lances at the Dragon!" His eyes blazing, he raised his huge battle axe.

Aldreya's stone dagger burst into flames, and Jerret drew his sword. The two Squires exchanged a horrified glance.

A war, unlike anything they'd imagined, had begun.

***

Tenneth Bard stood before Lannon in silence, as if waiting for the Squire to make the first move. The ancient sorcerer seemed unfathomable to Lannon, with his face and body that were half blended with shifting shadows. Somehow Lannon had known all along they would meet again. But Lannon was in no mood to deal with Tenneth Bard. Vorden's betrayal of his trust-as predictable as it should have been-still smoldered within Lannon, and when the shock of seeing Tenneth Bard wore off, his anger returned. The strange force within him was so insistent on breaking free that Lannon felt like he might explode.

"Glad you could make it," Tenneth Bard said, in a low, inhuman voice. "I wasn't sure I would ever get this amazing opportunity. You see, in this land, my power is much greater than it is in your realm. Here, I can force you to submit to the will of Tharnin quite easily."

"I'll never serve you!" Lannon said, his rage suddenly directed at Tenneth Bard. "And furthermore, something is wrong with me. You better stay away. I feel like I'm going to explode."

Tenneth Bard seemed to contemplate Lannon's words. Then he said, "You're terrified of this realm. I can see your body tremble. And a shadow like blood hangs over you-your fear revealed in physical form. Emotions can sometimes be seen here by the naked eye. You cannot hide your terror, young Squire of Dremlock. You could make it easy on yourself and just give in. You'll come to love this realm and feel restored by it. I'm giving you a chance to submit willingly, but if you refuse, I'll force you to surrender."

Lannon realized Tenneth Bard had no clue what Lannon was experiencing. The sorcerer seemed so certain of himself, his ego and arrogance having grown to monstrous proportions over the centuries he'd been alive. "It isn't fear. Something else is going on-something that could kill both of us!"

Tenneth Bard laughed. "You are no threat to me, Lannon Sunshield. You never were. You think I haven't dealt with your kind before? Some of the Dark Watchmen fell victim to me and became my servants-and they were older and more experienced than you. You're just a lad who can't even begin to understand his power. You arrived at Dremlock as its savior, but it was far too late in the game. You are witnessing the fall of the Divine Knights. And in spite of my hatred for Dremlock and their grotesque god, it is a sad passing for a kingdom that has endured so long. Having lived for well over a thousand years, I have a deep sense of history, Lannon. I hate to see ancient traditions come to an end. Yet Dremlock stands in the way of the expansion of Tharnin and simply must be destroyed."

"You only care about Tharnin's expansion," said Lannon, "because you're a puppet. Why else would you care?"

"Such a naive lad," mused Tenneth Bard. "You don't understand the ways of the Deep Shadow. My relationship with Tharnin is mutually beneficial. I serve it, and in return I receive power beyond your comprehension."

"Then why did you break Tharnin law?" said Lannon. "You weren't supposed to use the gauntlet or summon the Dragon."

"I didn't use the gauntlet," said Tenneth Bard, "or summon the Dragon. Vorden did those things by his own choice. It was a stroke of good fortune that the Hand of Tharnin ended up in possession of someone like Vorden. The gauntlet is perfectly suited to his personality and immense talent. You should be proud of what your friend has become and what he has achieved."

"I don't have time for pointless discussion," said Lannon, overwhelmed with disgust at Tenneth Bard's words. "I need to help the Knights deal with Vorden and his Dragon. I strongly suggest you don't try to stop me. Not this time." Lannon started toward the stairs

With a hiss, Tenneth Bard lunged forward and seized Lannon's shoulders. Lannon was instantly paralyzed as dark sorcery flooded into him. "It is time for you to serve me!" said the sorcerer. "The only puppet will be you!"

The dark force inside Lannon began to writhe about frantically, filling him with panic. The pressure inside him became unbearable. "Let go of me!" he yelled. "Or we're both going to die!"

But Tenneth Bard ignored Lannon and continued to flood him with dark sorcery. The pressure turned to pain inside Lannon, as if his insides were being torn apart, and at last the dark force congealed into something recognizable-a dense wave of energy fueled by the Eye of Divinity. The pain and pressure vanished and Lannon found himself in complete control of the wave.

With a cry of triumph, Lannon unleashed the energy into Tenneth Bard, ripping the sorcerer away from him. For a moment, Tenneth Bard was suspended in the air, his violet eyes wide with shock as the energy hammered into him. And then he was flung from the platform and off into the mist.

Lannon fell to his knees, the breath rushing out of him. The energy wave was gone, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He now had a pounding headache and was dizzy. But Tenneth Bard was gone-struck with a force so terrible it might have finally sent him to his doom.

Lannon rose and headed down the stairs that wound around the pillar. He wanted to hurry, but the perils of the stairway wouldn't allow it. Everything seemed to have a dream-like quality in his mind-Vorden tricking him, the sudden appearance of the Dragon, the encounter with Tenneth Bard-and most of all, that astonishing wave of energy that had burst forth from within him. Could that have been the mysterious power called Dark Wave that Taris had told Lannon about when the Squire was first on his way to Dremlock? "What does the Eye of Divinity do?" Lannon had asked. And Taris had replied: "The answer to that question is shrouded in mystery. As far as I know, it works in three stages-Sight, Body, and something called Dark Wave. Sight allows you to gain knowledge of things-even secret or guarded knowledge. Body creates physical changes upon a person and their surroundings, which can vary greatly depending upon the user. Dark Wave, however, is a mysterious force that few have ever gained use of. Little is written about it in the records of Dremlock Kingdom."

If Lannon had indeed gained the use of Dark Wave, could he use it again to help defeat the Dragon? He felt thoroughly drained, and he doubted he could summon even a trace of it. Also, it had seemed to appear on its own, in reaction to the extreme presence of the Deep Shadow. Lannon suspected it was a force he would never be able to call upon at will or control.

After a long and frightful journey through the fog, in which the strange shadows lurched out at him frantically yet never touched him, Lannon at last climbed from the pit and into the cavern of Dorok's Hand.

Lannon stood by the edge of the hole for a moment to catch his breath, and then he spotted Vorden-who lay slumped against the wall. And in the tunnel that led from the cavern, Lannon saw the broken bodies of some Legion Soldiers lying about. Lannon hurried over to Vorden and knelt by him. Vorden's armor was split open and he was sitting in a pool of blood.

In spite of everything, Lannon's heart lurched the sight of his fallen friend. He shook him, and Vorden opened his eyes. "What happened to you?"

Vorden gave him a pained smile. "The Dragon went crazy and attacked me and some of the Soldiers. Guess it wasn't so easy to control after all. Did Tenneth Bard manage to convert you? Are you on my side now?"

"I think I killed him," said Lannon.

Vorden sighed. "A lot of planning for nothing, then. Why are you so foolishly stubborn? You deny yourself a far better life. Anyway, I haven't quite healed yet. Now is your chance to finish me off."

Lannon rose. "I never wanted to kill you, Vorden. And I won't do so now, even though you served me to Tenneth Bard on a platter."

Vorden chuckled. "Of course. How endlessly noble you are."

"How can we defeat the Dragon?" Lannon asked, his heart fluttering with panic. "There has to be a way!"

Vorden shook his head. "Just stay here, Lannon. If you go out there, you'll get yourself killed. The Great Dragons of Tharnin are invincible."

"I defeated Tenneth Bard," Lannon pointed out.

"But Tenneth Bard is a man," said Vorden. "Very old and powerful, but still just a man. A Dragon is something beyond the comprehension of mortals-as old as time itself and without a weakness.""

With a groan, Vorden rose to his feet. He stood swaying for a moment, and then the stones of the Hand of Tharnin glowed with their cold blue fire. Vorden seemed to regain his strength, and he clenched the gauntlet into a fist. "You're not going anywhere, Lannon. The Dragon will do what I summoned it to do-which is kill every last Knight of Dremlock."

"And Legion Soldiers too, by the look of it," said Lannon, pointing at the dead bodies in the tunnel. "It will destroy everyone!"

Vorden shrugged. "I don't care if a few Soldiers die-as long as Dremlock is brought to the ground."

Lannon started toward the tunnel, but Vorden seized his arm with the gauntlet. "Didn't you hear what I just said? You're not going anywhere!"

***

The first wave of Goblins reached Furlus and the two Squires before the Red Knights could gather around them. But Furlus was ready. He leapt from his horse onto a Jackal and split the creature in two with his axe. Jerret beheaded another one that tried to knock him off his horse, and Aldreya lit two of them on fire with her dagger. And then the Red Knights were there, some of them thrusting their lances into the snow and drawing swords and axes for close combat.

Three Pit Crawlers and a number of Goblin Wolves had also entered the fray, as well as four Ogres. The hissing Pit Crawlers struck at Knights left and right, bringing some of them down with their deadly poison. One Knight was lifted by an Ogre and strangled to death in the air, before being flung into the snow. Another Ogre, pierced by burning lances, went berserk and started swinging its club-like fists at whoever was in range-including other Goblins.

"Burn the Dragon!" Furlus howled at Vannas.

But the prince was already attempting to do just that. He held the White Flamestone in his cupped hands, and the blinding beam of energy that radiated from it struck the Dragon repeatedly. But the Dragon would not remain still long enough for the white fire to damage it. It kept moving about-attacking Knights, Legion Soldiers (those who hadn't yet escaped into the keep and some who decided to join the Divine Knights in fighting the Dragon), and Goblins. Wherever it flew, it left dead bodies from its flailing stingers.

Vannas cried out in frustration, turning constantly in the saddle and trying to lock onto his target. Meanwhile, the Goblins closed in on him from all sides-including from the sky-in an effort to dislodge the Flamestone from his hand. At one point a Vulture swooped down and almost pulled it loose, but Aldreya struck the creature with a fireball from her dagger and it flew off leaving a trail of smoke. The Dragon, however, didn't seem to acknowledge Vannas as a threat-aside from darting away whenever Vannas' white fire made contract with it. It simply killed whoever was in its path, as if carrying out some mindless command of destruction.

Due to the chaos caused by the Dragon, the Goblins were able to break through Vannas' outer defenses-to find Jace, Thrake, Shennen, Trenton, and Furlus waiting for them. The four Knights and the towering sorcerer slew many Goblins between them, but Trenton wore down quickly from his injuries. Three Jackals and a Wolf finally managed to isolate and surrounded Trenton. They leapt onto him, ripping away his sword and bearing him down into the snow.

Jerret was close to Trenton when the Investigator went down, and the Squire jumped from his horse and rushed over to help. Trenton was lost from view beneath four furry Goblins that were ripping and tearing at him. For an instant, Jerret thought Trenton Shadowbane was going to be torn to pieces.

And then the Goblins were flung viciously away from Trenton as if struck with a battering ram. Where the Investigator had once been, the hideous wolf-monster rose up from the snow, its muzzle and claws dripping blood.

Jerret shrank back, but Trenton bounded right past the Squire and threw himself into a crowd of Goblins, his claws slashing out with devastating force. Jerret found himself suddenly very grateful that Trenton was on his side.

A Jackal leapt over Furlus' head and flew toward Vannas, but Jace caught the beast in midair and wrestled it down into the snow. The sorcerer's huge fist rose and fell upon his foe like a hammer, crushing its skull.

Nevertheless, the Knights were having an extremely difficult time protecting Vannas, and the prince was nearly knocked from his horse more than once. Some of the Red Knights hurled their heavy, burning Lances against the Dragon, but the weapons simply bounced harmlessly off its scales. The sorcerers tried to burn the beast with thrown fire from their blades, but that too had no apparent affect on it. Meanwhile, the dead were piling up in the snow-those that weren't hanging from the Dragon's stingers as it hovered. The landscape was littered with dead and injured Knights, Goblins, Legion Soldiers, and Greywind horses.

"Vannas, hurry and kill that Dragon!" Furlus roared at him, his blood-soaked axe rising and falling with insane fury.

His face contorted in anxiety and frustration, Vannas rose up in the saddle and tried to get a better angle on the Dragon-just as a Goblin Wolf darted around a Red Knight, leapt through the air, and seized the White Flamestone in its mouth. It landed in the snow and fled, smoke billowing from its jaws.

"They've taken it!" Vannas howled, motioning desperately at the fleeing Wolf. In his panic, the prince nearly toppled from the saddle.

"Trenton!" Furlus cried. "Don't let it escape!"

But Trenton, or the wolf-monster he'd become, was already bounding after the fleeing Goblin. He quickly dragged it down from behind. The White Flamestone flew from the Wolf's jaws and was caught in the air by one of the Ogres, who then tried to flee toward the caves with it, its long legs taking it swiftly through the snow. But the Ogre ran too close to the Dragon, and a stinger shot out and buried itself in the Ogre's neck. The giant took a few staggering steps, looking uncertain and clutching at the dark tube that ran from its neck. Then it collapsed into the snow, the White Flamestone still clutched in its fist.

A Jackal pried the Ogre's hand open and laid the Flamestone on a fallen shield. It raised a club to smash the lump of crystal into pieces. From where he sat watching on his horse, Vannas covered his eyes. It seemed Jace's vision of the White Flamestone lying shattered was about to come to pass.

But then one of the Red Knights hurled his blazing lance right though the Jackal's heart, and the creature toppled over. Trenton bounded toward the Flamestone, which brought him into range of the Dragon. A stinger shot out and caught Trenton in the chest, bringing the wolf-monster down next to the Flamestone. As he fell, Trenton ripped the stinger from his body, and the Dragon soared away.

Cries of dismay arose from the Knights-from those who knew the wolf-monster was actually Dremlock's Investigator. But moments later, Trenton rose from the snow and swiped up the White Flamestone in his claws. He seemed groggy from the poison, stumbling a bit, but he bounded back over to where Vannas lay and tossed the Flamestone to Aldreya, who was kneeling by the prince.

"Finish this!" Aldreya said, handing the crystal to Vannas.

Vannas' chest was torn open and bleeding, but he clutched the White Flamestone in a firm grip, his eyes smoldering. Then a shadow fell over the Divine Shield, blocking out the stars. The Dragon had found them at last.

As Jerret gazed upward, his sword slipped from his fingers. Above him hung a mass of shifting scales and long stingers-with some of the stingers having corpses dangling from them. Aldreya screamed.

"Kill it now!" Furlus howled, his eyes wide as he looked up.

Vannas unleashed the white fire into the Dragon's belly before the stingers could begin doing their grisly work. It was a direct hit that burned a large hole in the Dragon's armor. Some of the Red Knights threw their lances into the breach, and the archers shot it with dozens of arrows. The Dragon continued to hover there in a drooping fashion, perhaps stunned at what was occurring.

With a frantic battle cry, Vannas drove the energy into the beast with renewed effort. The white fire became so intense the surrounding area was illuminated as if by daylight, and black smoke billowed from the Dragon's jaws. The creature flew off sluggishly toward the fortress gates but collapsed in the snow before reaching them, crushing a few Goblins in the process. It was burning from within, and in moments its entire bulk was consumed by pale fire. The flames grew so hot the snow melted around the Dragon-a blaze that became like a mini sun.

As the Dragon burned to ash, and the Goblins retreated into the caves, Vannas smiled and closed his eyes. The White Flamestone slipped from his fingers-only to be caught by Aldreya. A White Knight-one of many who were tending to the injured-hurried over and went to work on the prince.

"Will my cousin die?" Aldreya asked, tears in her eyes.

The White Knight glanced up at her, his bearded face stern. "Not if I have anything to say about it. He's faint from blood loss, but it's nothing that can't be fixed." He nodded to her. "You did well in guarding the prince."

"He'll be fine, Aldreya," said Jerret, walking over to her and patting her on the shoulder. "The prince is strong." Jerret glanced with pride at his sword, which was covered in Goblin blood that was already frozen on the blade. His eyes strayed to the gates of Dorok's Hand. The Dragon was dead, but where was Vorden?

Chapter 21: The Duel, Part II

Lannon and Vorden grappled with each other, the Eye of Divinity against the Hand of Tharnin. Sweat dripped from their brows. Lannon was determined to help the Knights defeat the Dragon, and Vorden was equally determined to keep Lannon in the cavern until the beast had done its work. Vorden couldn't hold Lannon indefinitely, yet every time Lannon broke free and tried to flee, Vorden seized him again with the gauntlet and dragged him back into the cavern. Finally they paused to rest, panting hard, the cries of battle reaching their ears.

"Let me go!" Lannon said, his voice shrill with frustration. "You have no right to keep me here when the Knights are being slaughtered!"

But Vorden shook his head. "Sorry, Lannon. You don't get to play the role of the hero this time. The Knights are finished!"

Yet moments later, a group of Legion Masters rushed into the cavern-the Council Members from Dorok's Hand. These were the elite Knights of the Blood Legion, ranked just below Vorden and Timlin. One of them-a giant who wore dark armor and a horned helm-bowed to Vorden and said, "I bring unfortunate news, my lord. The Dragon has fallen."

Vorden's eyes widened, and he seized the giant's throat. "How is this possible, Almdrax? The Dragon was supposed to be invincible!"

Almdrax sighed. "It took the power of a god to bring it down. The Dragon was defeated by the Flamestone from the Divine Essence-and a very lucky shot. In spite of our best efforts, we were not able to get the Flamestone away from the young Birlote prince long enough for the Dragon to finish off Dremlock's army. However, we did manage to deeply injure Vannas, and hopefully he will not recover. Regardless, many of the Soldiers are currently retreating through the escape tunnels, headed for Old Hammer Hall. Should we join them?"

"Retreat?" said Vorden, shoving Almdrax away. "Not as long as the Hand of Tharnin remains in our possession. Besides, if their prince has fallen we might stand a chance at victory. Where is Timlin?"

"He fled with the others," said Almdrax.

"Of course," said Vorden, scowling. "See how the little coward repays me? He runs away without even notifying me. Well, we are not cowards, Almdrax. We will show them that the Blood Legion does not surrender. We shall make a stand here in this chamber, a fight to the death!"

The Legion Knights nodded their approval and took position beside Vorden-giant, battle-hardened warriors with smoldering weapons. These were Knights tainted by Tharnin and given immense power to go along with savage, unyielding hearts. Even vastly outnumbered, they would not fall easily.

"And what of that one?" asked Almdrax, pointing at Lannon. "Shall we kill him now, when he is outnumbered?"

"He doesn't matter," said Vorden, waving dismissively. "Lannon will do nothing. All he cares about is peace. Isn't that right, Lannon?"

Vorden spoke true. Lannon was delighted the Dragon was dead, but he wondered how many Knights had fallen. He was determined that no more bloodshed should take place. "Yes, I want peace. Is that so wrong, Vorden? Why does everything have to end in bloodshed?"

"There is no shame in wanting peace," said Vorden. He clenched the gauntlet's metal fingers into a huge fist. "Even if it is only a silly dream."

***

Soon the members of the Divine Shield (except for Vannas, who was still being cared for by Dremlock's healers) stood in the chamber of the foggy pit, along with a company of Knights. Trenton Shadowbane was now back in human form and somehow free of all injuries. Thrake had suffered a broken arm that was now in a sling, but otherwise the Divine Shield was intact. They were delighted to find Lannon alive and well, but their celebration was short lived when they learned that Vorden and his Knights intended to fight to the death.

"You cannot win, Vorden," said Furlus. "The rest of the Blood Legion has either been captured or has fled. Don't be a fool. Your Dragon is dead and Dorok's Hand belongs to Dremlock now. It is finished!"

"Nothing is finished," said Vorden. "Can you defeat the Hand of Tharnin, Tower Master? When it's in my possession, I think not. And even if you do kill me, many will die in the process. I will enjoy it either way."

Jace stepped close to Vorden. "Heed this warning, young man. The longer the Hand of Tharnin holds you captive, the more deeply it will bind with your soul and body-leading to chaos and madness. The device is flawed and cannot be controlled. It cannot even control itself! You have a chance to rid yourself of it before it is too late. Let us help you, Vorden."

"Get away from me!" Vorden hissed at Jace. The gauntlet's blue stones flared up in warning. "One step closer and I will burn you to ash!"

Calmly, Jace stepped back a bit, raising his hands to show he had no intention of attacking. "Just consider my words, Vorden."

"You will surrender to us immediately," said Trenton, "and face trial for your crimes. As prisoners, you will be treated fairly."

"I never liked you, Trenton," said Vorden. "In fact, I don't think anyone likes you. So keep your mouth shut before you provoke my rage."

"Vorden, we are all weary of bloodshed," said Shennen. "Your plan has failed and Dremlock has won. Let us just end this peacefully."

Vorden glowered at Shennen. "Do not speak to me, Birlote. Your kind is the enemy of Tharnin, and your very existence offends me."

"If you just surrender," said Lannon, "we can find a way to help Taris. He was bedridden and barely clinging to life last I knew. Don't you feel even a tiny bit of loyalty to Taris, Vorden?"

"Taris is just another foul Birlote," said Vorden. "Besides, the poison from the gauntlet is very potent, yet temporary. If he survived this long, he'll likely recover-though I'll be glad to kill him later when I get a chance."

Lannon felt a surge of hope at Vorden's words.

"Please, Vorden!" said Aldreya. "No more war!"

Vorden smashed the gauntlet against the floor, shattering stone. "If another Birlote dares speak to me, I'm going to begin tearing off heads! And how will you defeat me without your precious prince and his Flamestone? I'm well aware that only Vannas can use that weapon."

Lannon sighed. "Why don't you just listen to them, Vorden? Can't you see the truth of things, that it's over?"

"No, Vorden can't see any truths," Jerret spoke up. "He's nothing but a blind puppet of Tenneth Bard."

Vorden sneered at Jerret. "Who speaks? Some nobody from Dremlock? I'm surprised the Knights even let you ride with them, Jerret."

His face crimson with anger, Jerret stepped toward Vorden and raised his sword. "Fine words coming from a coward who invades the minds of others. I'll bet I could make you regret a few things, Vorden."

Vorden laughed. "A pathetic Squire with no talent. You couldn't have defeated me before I was blessed with the Hand of Tharnin, Jerret. What makes you think you have a remote chance now?"

Jerret took another step forward, but Shennen seized his arm. "Let it go, Squire. Vorden is simply trying to bait you."

But Furlus Goblincrusher pulled Shennen's hand away from Jerret. Furlus' eyes held a strange glint. "Let the Squire have his say, Shennen. He has come through pain and blood and has earned the right to speak."

"I can defeat you in a fair fight, Vorden," said Jerret, his chin thrust out. "I've been training hard in preparation to kill you!"

Vorden bellowed laughter. "So you think you can beat me sword to sword? I find that idea so absurd that I'll make a bargain with you-if you can defeat me in an honorable duel, my Knights will gladly surrender to Dremlock. But if you fail to defeat me, I will cut off your head."

"Consider it a duel then!" Jerret snarled. "But you cannot use the Hand of Tharnin. You must remove it first."

"I will never remove this gauntlet," said Vorden. "But I will make its power sleep. It will be a fair fight, all things considered."

"This is not going to happen," said Trenton, looking appalled. "Dremlock does not pit Squires against each other."

"I'm no longer a Squire," said Vorden. "I am the Black Knight!"

"Jerret will not partake in this duel," said Shennen, "if I have my say. But I will gladly take his place."

"I have the final say," growled Furlus. He strode over and looked Jerret in the eye. "Can you defeat Vorden in fair combat, Squire?"

"I can, Master Furlus," Jerret said, his eyes blazing. "Just give me a chance to prove it!"

"It will be a duel to the death," said Furlus. "If you find an opening, do not hesitate to kill him. In fact, you are obligated to kill him, to save us from greater bloodshed. I'm allowing this duel in the hope, and the belief, that you can end this before more Knights are slain. I do not take this lightly, Squire. You realize that we cannot interfere, that if you falter, we will be forced to let your foe kill you?"

Jerret swallowed and nodded. "Understood."

Lannon could barely believe what he was hearing. Furlus seemed content to let a young man fight to the death against his former friend, and though Lannon knew the life of a Divine Knight was full of harsh choices and sacrifice, he was still appalled at the Tower Master's decision. It was obviously the threat of the Hand of Tharnin that drove Furlus to take such action, but Lannon could never have made that choice. And Lannon blamed himself for Jerret even being there.

Furlus turned back to Vorden. "I will agree to this honorable duel-if your Knights will give up their weapons. If you win the duel, their weapons will be returned. I want to ensure that you keep your end of the bargain and fight fairly. Also, if you fall, your Knights must surrender immediately."

"I object to the terms," said Almdrax, scowling. "We stand to gain nothing from this duel, my lord."

"Well, I agree to the terms," said Vorden, "and I do have something to gain. Actually, I'm simply looking forward to cutting off Jerret's head. Besides, Almdrax, do you really expect me to lose?"

Reluctantly, the Legion Knights handed over their weapons. The blue stones in Vorden's gauntlet lost their shine and the metal went cold and grey. He drew his spider sword.

But when Jerret laid eyes on Vorden's powerful magical sword, he looked uncertain. "I can't compete with that weapon! It will cut right through my own blade. You have to use a normal sword, Vorden."

"I only use this sword," said Vorden, shrugging. "Sorry."

"Take this one," said Trenton, handing his sword to Jerret. "It's made of Glaetherin."

Jerret took the sword and bowed.

"Wait!" Lannon said. The last thing he wanted to see was this duel to the death, but he couldn't let Jerret fight at such a disadvantage. He drew his Dragon sword-the extremely expensive weapon made of rare Goblin bones that Taris Warhawk had purchased for him as a gift. "Use this instead. It's very light."

Jerret returned Trenton's sword and took Lannon's blade in hand. He swung it about, marveling at the lightness of it. "Thank you, my friend."

Lannon was now supposed to watch while one of his friends killed the other one. He couldn't bear the thought of it.

The two combatants faced each other, blade to blade. Vorden smirked. "You're going to lose your head, Jerret. What do you think of that?"

"You should never have taken my free will!" said Jerret. "Whatever you did to me back at Dremlock-I've found no peace since. And I'll never find any peace until you lie dead at my feet."

"It haunts your mind," said Vorden, "because I crushed your puny will. I made you realize how easily you can be enslaved by Tharnin. Now you want revenge, but you should be angry at yourself."

"Wise words from a monster," said Jerret.

"If I'm such a monster, Jerret, then why aren't you attacking? Don't tell me you came all this way with vengeance in your heart, only to lose your nerve."

With a howl, Jerret swung the Dragon sword at Vorden's head. Vorden deflected the stroke easily with his own blade. "So predictable, Jerret!"

They traded a flurry of blows, and then backed away from each other, panting. The grin had vanished from Vorden's face. "You've learned some new skills, Jerret. Looks like you're not as lazy as you used to be."

They drove in on each other again, and Jerret landed a blow on Vorden's shoulder that was deflected by his armor. Vorden retaliated and cut a shallow wound in Jerret's shoulder though his chain mail-just a scratch, but Jerret seemed wracked with pain for a moment. The bite of the spider sword was a bitter one.

"I'm going to finish this!" Jerret bellowed, and he drove into Vorden with berserk fury. The intensity of his attack caught Vorden off guard, and Vorden stumbled and fell onto his back. For an instant, Jerret stood over him with the Dragon sword poised to stab down through the crack in Vorden's armor.

But Jerret hesitated, looking uncertain for just an instant. Vorden seized that opportunity and kicked Jerret's legs out from under him. Jerret struck the cavern floor hard and lost his grip on the Dragon sword.

Vorden leapt up and raised his weapon for the kill. "You couldn't finish me, you coward! But I will finish you!"

Furlus groaned in frustration.

Trenton, who supposedly hated Jerret, appeared deeply troubled.

Aldreya turned away, a look of despair on her face.

"That enough, Vorden!" Lannon shouted. He seized Vorden with the Eye of Divinity and shoved him back towards the pit. Vorden stumbled but maintained his balance, his spider sword slashing down and finding only the stone floor instead of Jerret. Lannon knew he was violating the Sacred Laws of Dremlock that governed honorable duels, but all he could think about was saving Jerret.

Enraged, Vorden sheathed his sword and the blue stones in his gauntlet flared to life. "I'll see you again, Lannon!" he growled, smashing apart Lannon's hold on him. Then he turned and jumped into the pit.

Chapter 22: Rice Pudding

After Vorden vanished into the pit, the remaining members of the Blood Legion surrendered, with the exception of Almdrax-the giant warrior in dark armor-who leapt into the pit as well. The Knights gave chase but could find no trace of the two men in the fog and finally had to give up. However, Furlus decided that the pit would be filled in with rock and dirt, sealing Vorden and Almdrax in the realm of Tharnin where hopefully they could find no other portals to return through.

Lannon was dismayed at Furlus' plan to seal Vorden in the pit, for that killed all hope of saving the former Squire. Lannon finally had to accept the fact that Vorden was lost forever along with (hopefully) Tenneth Bard.

Dozens of Divine Knights had been slain in the battle with the Dragon, and a series of funerals were held for them. At least thirty more were injured to the point where even the healers could not restore them to full health, and they would be forced to retire. Some had lost limbs and a few had simply lost the will to go on serving Dremlock, their minds overcome by the terrible experience of war. Overall, however, Furlus declared the assault on Dorok's Hand a grand success.

Furlus decided the entire army would remain at Dorok's Hand until spring to ensure the Blood Legion did not re-take the fortress. The captured members of the Legion were imprisoned in a dungeon in the fortress to await transport and trial. The Knights feared the Blood Legion was planning a raid to free the prisoners, but as the weeks went past, all remained quiet in and around the mountain fortress. The portal to Tharnin had been buried, the surrounding cavern itself sealed off as well. It looked as if it would be a winter of peace.

After the last of the funerals, Furlus called a feast in Dorok's Hall-a chamber lined with stone tables and warmed by a huge iron stove. The Knights had plenty of supplies to last the winter (thanks to the well-stocked fortress), and the feast was a hearty one, with the tables covered in all kinds of food. The chamber was filled with hungry Knights, Squires, and Rangers who were ready to dig in.

The Divine Shield was seated at one of the tables. Even before the feast had officially begun, Jace seized a bowl of rice pudding and began gobbling it up with a large wooden spoon. "Excellent, my friends," he grunted, wiping pudding from his chin. "Absolutely perfect!"

"Furlus has not yet granted us permission to eat," said Trenton, his lips tight with a look of displeasure.

Jace shrugged helplessly. "It's rice pudding."

Furlus stood up, his bearded face looking peaceful in the torchlight. "Now that the dead have been laid to rest, I want to let everywhere here know our status. First, some great news. Taris Warhawk is alive and well-back on his feet. I received a message from him by an Elder Hawk yesterday."

Loud cheers arose. Lannon and Aldreya exchanged a delighted smile. Vannas, who was still recovering from his wounds but feeling better every day, said, "I knew Taris would find the strength to survive!"

"I don't know Taris as well as you others do," said Jerret, "but I'm glad to hear this. I can't imagine what Dremlock would do without him."

"Nor can I, Jerret," said Aldreya. "Taris is the wisdom of Dremlock."

"Also," Furlus went on, "the Blood Legion is clearly on the wane after their defeat here. Legion attacks have severely diminished throughout Silverland. Silverland is now a much safer place, and because of that, trade has picked up and the cities are prospering. We have defeated the best attempts of the Deep Shadow to destroy us, sealing off what we believe was one of the main portals through which our enemies entered this land. Indeed, like the Blood Legion, the Deep Shadow has suffered a devastating blow. Thanks to the courage of our Knights and a handful of extraordinary Squires, we have triumphed!"

More cheers arose, but Lannon barely heard them. He was wishing Vorden and Timlin were there to share in this moment. He missed his friends greatly and hated the thought that the Deep Shadow had taken them.

"Now," said Furlus, "I call upon Vannas Greenrune, Lannon Sunshield, Aldreya Silverhawk, and Jerret Dragonsbane. Come forward!"

Eagerly, the four Squires rose and approached Furlus. Each Squire was given a new ribbon on their sash, bringing them yet another step closer to Knighthood. Aldreya was awarded a fancy rune-covered stone dagger that would more effectively channel her sorcery, and Jerret was given a broadsword made of Glaetherin that displayed an image of a snarling wolf on the hilt. The two Squires raised their new weapons to cheers from the crowd, their faces beaming with joy.

"I congratulate you, Squires," said Furlus. "You have served Dremlock well." After the Squires had returned to their table, Furlus went on, "Before I allow you to begin eating all that fine food, I want one more moment of silence for the dead. Their sacrifice paved the way for our victory."

Everyone bowed in thoughtful silence. Even Jace paused between bites of his rice pudding.

"May the Divine Essence warm us all," Furlus said at last. "Now feast well!"

As the Squires feasted, Jerret kept admiring his broadsword in the torchlight, and he hadn't yet filled his plate. "What an amazing gift! A real Knightly sword of my own. I never expected this!"

"It's a fine sword," said Trenton. "But it won't fill your belly. You should put that away and have a bite to eat. By the way, Jerret. I didn't get a chance to tell you this until now, but partaking in that duel was a very courageous thing to do. I applaud you for that, Squire. And you fought well."

Jerret sheathed the sword and lowered his gaze. "I didn't do it out of courage. I did it because…because I wanted revenge. But I've had time to think it over, and I realize that I don't care about that anymore. I just want to be a great Knight and always do the right thing."

"You spared Vorden's life," said Shennen, as he cut into a huge mushroom cap with his knife and fork. "I saw it. Everyone saw it. You may have wanted vengeance, but you never gave in to the urge."

"But I should have killed him," said Jerret. "My moment of weakness means that Vorden is still alive somewhere, still possessed by the Hand of Tharnin. I failed to behave like a Knight."

"One does not become a Divine Knight so quickly," said Thrake, tearing into a hunk of venison and washing it down with some ale. "It takes time and experience. But for a Squire, you have great skill and heart."

Jerret smiled, looking relieved. "Thank you."

"What about you, Lannon?" said Thrake. "You look a bit sad, Squire."

"I miss Vorden and Timlin," Lannon admitted. "I still find it hard to believe what has happened to them."

"It is always sad," said Shennen, "when the Deep Shadow steals the hearts of noble warriors. It happens far too often. Vorden and Timlin are but two of countless Knights and Squires who have fallen victim to its charms."

"I haven't given up on them," said Lannon.

"You never will, Lannon," said Aldreya, smiling. "It's not in your nature."

"It no longer matters," said Trenton. "Vorden and his master are gone forever into that cursed realm. Dorok's Hand is ours, and the Blood Legion is scattered and severely weakened. The Soldiers we have in captivity will soon face trial and punishment. This has been a magnificent victory for Dremlock-maybe the greatest victory we have ever achieved. I suggest you forget about your former friends, Lannon, and just relax and enjoy the feast."

Jace stuck his wooden spoon in the bowl of rice pudding and leaned back, sighing. "I hate to spoil the celebration, my friends, but do you really think the Deep Shadow is defeated? Yes, Dremlock appears to have the edge, but how long can it last? There are other lands beyond Silverland, other kingdoms. Why, just prior to coming to Dremlock, I heard strange news that the King of Bellis has apparently gone mad and begun conquering all of the surrounding kingdoms. Bellis is the largest kingdom on the continent of Gallamerth. This has led me to wonder if their king has fallen under the influence of the Deep Shadow."

"Bah!" muttered Shennen, taking a hearty gulp of ale. "Enough with that talk, Jace. Dark events are always happening across our continent. But here, in Silverland, this is Dremlock's time to celebrate. Not long ago I was lost in despair, thinking that all roads were leading to a bad end. Now, my optimism has returned and my faith in our god and our kingdom has been restored."

"If Bellis comes for us," said Vannas, "we will be ready. We defeated a Great Dragon of Tharnin. Can anything possibly pose a threat to us?"

"I like your attitude, Prince Vannas," said Thrake, grinning. "And I agree with you. We will be ready for whatever comes our way."

"Well," said Trenton, "I find it to be a wee bit…oh, never mind." He sighed. "I think I'll just have a slice of buttered bread."

"Do you think Bellis will attack Dremlock?" asked Lannon. Bellis had the largest army of any kingdom.

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Who can say, my young friend? Who can say? The only answer, of course, is to dig in to that fine rice pudding."

And so Lannon did, and the celebration went on for hours while a great blizzard raged outside of Dorok's Hand. But inside, there was plenty of warmth and cheer to go around amongst those with noble hearts.

Content

Robert E. Keller
The Hand of Tharnin

Chapter 1: Promotion Day

Chapter 2: Flame and Chaos

Chapter 3: Jace the Wanderer

Chapter 4: Altar of Blood

Chapter 5: The Divine Shield

Chapter 6: The Duel

Chapter 7: Kingdom Under Siege

Chapter 8: The Fate of Timlin Woodmaster

Chapter 9: The Hand of Tharnin

Chapter 10: The Dark Mothers

Chapter 11: Trial by Sword

Chapter 12: The Festival of Fire

Chapter 13: The Passage of Summer

Chapter 14: The Intruder

Chapter 15: The Wrath of Winter

Chapter 16: The Pit of Misery

Chapter 17: Giants in the Snow

Chapter 18: The Prisoner

Chapter 19: The Deadly Land

Chapter 20: The Behemoth

Chapter 21: The Duel, Part II

Chapter 22: Rice Pudding