Chapter 8:
The Joust for the Pale Hammer
After leaving the stable under cover of darkness, they journeyed through the hill country for a few days, and it appeared that no enemies followed or were aware of their departure. No spies were spotted on land or in the sky, and the weather was fair for traveling, with only a couple of light rain showers. The days were warm, the grassy hills ruffled by pleasant breezes, and camping was peaceful and relaxing beneath the stars. There was plenty of good food and drink.
But the hill country was strange, and there were dangers to be found if one wandered from the path, even in the light of day.
Jace kept a diary of their journey:
"Seemingly endless stretches of the unknown greet our vision, beneath the infinite sky. Here stand hills with rocky ruins poking out of them like bones--how ancient I cannot imagine. Who can guess what odd curses of the Deep Shadow are found within the crumbling walls, waiting like poisonous serpents to strike anyone who dares enter? Even the oldest Trolls who wander the hillsides have no memory of these lairs. And this is only the beginning, for soon we will encounter lands where even I have never wandered, where the familiar is utterly lost to us..."
On the fourth day, the danger that surrounded them was at last revealed, as one of the Blue Knights--Faindan Stillsword--made the mistake of poking around in some ancient ruins when the travelers were camped for lunch, and he became infected by a disease of the Deep Shadow. His left hand turned red and swelled to twice its normal size, causing him pain as if from fire. He moaned and cursed, rolling around in the grass and begging for someone to knock him unconscious. Dallsa did her best to treat the infection, but she couldn't calm the burning agony.
"My curse is bitter!" Faindan groaned. "The pain is unbearable!" The hand was so tender that if he bumped it against anything--even slightly--he screamed. He held it in the air, but his arm was clearly growing tired, his elbow sagging.
Faindan finally seemed to calm down a bit--until a large fly landed on the swollen hand. Then he howled and writhed about.
"Stop moving, Faindan," Dallsa said, as she fought to hold him still. "All this thrashing around isn't going to help."
Lannon and some of the others gathered in a circle around him on this bright and sunny day, giving each other helpless glances. Faindan was a handsome young Knight with black hair and blue eyes. He was extremely likable, and the others desperately wanted to help him. But the answer eluded them.
"Daledus," Faindan croaked. "Use your fist on me, my friend. End this wretched pain with one stout blow!"
Daledus shook his head. The Dwarf's broad face held a sad expression. "I wish I could help you, but you don't want a blow from my fist, Faindan. You might not get up again."
Faindan groaned. "I don't care, just strike me."
"Nobody is going to strike you, Faindan," said Dallsa. "I'm going to cure you, if you'll stop fighting me. I can drive out the curse."
"I'm sorry about your agony, Faindan," said Aldreya. "Yet I have faith that Dallsa can indeed heal you." In a commanding tone, she added, "You will simply lay still and allow her to treat the infection. That's an order."
Faindan didn't answer. His teeth were clenched.
At last Faindan reached toward Lannon--extending the bloated, crimson hand that looked as if it were covered in scales. "Help me, High Watchman!"
"I wish there was something I could do," said Lannon. "Unfortunately, I cannot cure your condition. Dallsa has the power, though."
"What about medication?" asked Vorden, standing with his arms folded across his armored chest. Vorden was a thinker and never liked to give up on anyone. "Surely there must be something that can dull the pain."
"Nothing I know of," said Dallsa. "This type of infection is based entirely on dark sorcery. It takes sorcery to cure it."
"Can it be fatal?" asked Lannon, whispering to Dallsa.
"Not likely," Dallsa whispered back. "I believe the infection has the goal of causing him misery and perhaps contaminating his mind, subduing his will, and darkening his dreams. It is a curse against life--a very nasty thing to encounter, as it could be considered a fate worse than death."
"Can you stand up, Faindan?" asked Aldreya. As she stood with her silver curls blowing in the breeze, there was no pity in her gaze. She seemed as cold as ice--an unfathomable mage in her green cloak--yet Lannon knew she had a caring heart and was concerned for everyone around her. However, she expected Divine Knights to act appropriately--to perhaps even act as a Birlote would and put the agony aside for the sake of duty.
Faindan shook his head. "I just want to lay here."
"I can help him to his horse," said Lannon. He started forward.
"No one will help him," said Aldreya, seizing Lannon's arm. "His hand is infected, but his legs will carry him to his horse."
"I don't like it," said Jerret, who was seated on a rock. "Why make him more miserable by having to stand and walk on his own? And how is he supposed to climb into the saddle when he can't touch anything?"
Aldreya fixed her stern gaze on Jerret. "No one is to be coddled on this journey, or we will not survive. We must face our hardships and overcome them. I have seen other Knights overcome pain to this degree by will alone. Our training allows for such feats."
"But this is cruel," said Vorden. "Why put Faindan through more misery than necessary? You've changed, Aldreya. You've become like other Birlote sorcerers who grow in power and forget what it's like to struggle."
She didn't reply and showed no emotion.
The other Knights exchanged tense looks.
"Don't my words mean anything to you?" asked Vorden. "The old Aldreya would have at least given me a heated argument."
"You don't understand Birlotes," Aldreya replied, "and you never will. So there is no point in trying to make you understand. We grow and change. We become who we were meant to be. Do not mistake that for a bad thing."
"There is no need for insults, Vorden," said Lannon. "Aldreya is our leader and we must respect her decisions."
"No insult intended," said Vorden. "Just giving a humble opinion."
"I have a humble opinion too," said Jerret, "that I would like to voice."
Aldreya nodded. "Feel free."
"Don't take this the wrong way," said Jerret, "but you Birlotes think Noracks are weak and cannot endure great hardships."
She glared at him. "We aren't children anymore, Jerret. Don't try to bait me into a discussion of Birlotes versus Noracks--not when my favorite warrior in all the land is standing next to me and happens to be a Norack." She nudged Lannon.
"I'm your favorite warrior?" said Lannon, surprised.
Aldreya nodded. "I trust you like no other, Lannon."
Jerret bowed. "My apologies, Green Knight." His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "But I still don't think Faindan should be forced to move without help. As a Red Knight, I am often called a barbarian--but I am not a savage."
"Nor am I," said Galvia. "We should help him, Aldreya. There is no shame in giving comfort to an injured warrior."
"Yes, help me," Faindan pleaded. "Don't let me suffer."
"This is ridiculous," said Prince Vannas, giving Aldreya a glare. "You're letting your power turn you cold. I feel rather disgusted by this, and I'm glad I'm not a sorcerer. The Royal Family would not approve."
For an instant, a hint of doubt appeared in Aldreya's eyes. By the bloodline of the Birlote Royal Family, Prince Vannas outranked her. His opinion held great weight with her and always would. But at Ollanhar, she was the Green Knight and he was forced to obey her commands. It was an awkward situation.
Lothrin and Bekka said nothing, but they looked uncomfortable.
"You might be right, Aldreya," said Dallsa. "As cruel as it seems, Faindan needs to find his strength." But she appeared doubtful.
At last, Aldreya looked to Lannon for his input.
"I have to agree with the others," said Lannon. He quickly added, "I mean, about whether or not we sh
ould help Faindan. I understand your reasoning, Aldreya, but it's the way of Divine Knights to assist each other."
She nodded. "I see. I am overruled. Very well, give him whatever assistance he wants, but you won't be doing him any favors. It will likely take a toll on him. But I have said enough." She turned about rigidly and walked away.
Vorden shook his head. "She has definitely grown colder."
"I disagree," said Lannon. "She's just strong in her beliefs, Vorden. She has a lot of responsibilities and must make many tough decisions." But Vorden was right in that Aldreya had indeed changed. She had become much more like Taris Warhawk lately--confident, commanding, and seemingly full of wisdom, but also stern and strange to those around her. But she hadn't yet earned the enormous respect that was given to Taris, and her decisions were bound to be questioned.
Jace approached them, pipe in hand. He towered over the Knights, gazing down at Faindan. "Nasty little curse you have there. Would you like a bucket of water to dip that hand in--cool it down a bit?"
"Yes!" Faindan said excitedly. "Bring water!"
"Bad idea," said Jace. "Water will only make it worse. Anything you try will make it worse. Nothing to do but wait it out, young man, and let the healer do her work." Jace puffed his pipe and grinned. "At least it's another beautiful day, curse or not." With that, he wandered away.
Together, Jerret and Vorden helped Faindan up and took him to his horse. The young Blue Knight continued to twist and groan, as he was heaved into the saddle. He ignored the reins and instead hunkered down, sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled against the smoldering pain--but the mighty Greywind horse would bear him along on its own.
As they rode off through the hills, Faindan cursed them and begged them for help, but Dallsa had done all she could for the day and needed rest. He whimpered and moaned, threatening to fling himself from the saddle. Faindan was an elite Blue Knight, and his behavior was terribly embarrassing to the others. It brought shame upon the whole party.
Daledus--who was Faindan's good friend--rode with his head bowed, a dismayed look on his face. If Daledus' partially burned beard didn't bring him enough shame, now there was this.
Lannon, however, felt nothing but pity for Faindan. It was at times like these that the Eye of Divinity seemed inadequate. For all its power, it lacked the ability to heal or drive out curses in others--or if it did possess such abilities, Lannon was not able to access them. He hated feeling so helpless.
As they entered a stretch of forest, Faindan fell silent. This brought great relief to the others, who couldn't bear to witness a Divine Knight crying over pain and making childish threats. The Knights took to talking and laughing, enjoying the pleasant day. Lannon thought perhaps Faindan was recovering.
Then Faindan cried out and fell from the saddle. He lay on the ground for a moment in the trail, his chest heaving, and then rose. His face bore a hideous grin, and he held a bloody sword in one hand. His other hand--the infected and swollen one--was severed from his wrist and lay in the dirt.
"Good riddance!" Faindan bellowed. "I am free!"
The Knights groaned. Aldreya swung down from her horse to retrieve the hand, which could be stored away and later reattached by the healers of Dremlock. But Faindan was having none of it. His sword erupted into sorcerous fire, and he quickly burned the severed hand into ash.
"Foolish," Aldreya said. "Now you are less of a warrior."
"But I am free!" Faindan laughed. "The agony is gone!" It was a shocking reminder of the evil and power of the Deep Shadow.
"Faindan, what have you done?" said Daledus, shaking his head in disbelief. "A Blue Knight with only one hand? You have ruined yourself!"
Bekka's face bore a look of disgust. "I helped train you, Faindan. I saw your great potential. How could you do this to yourself?"
It was indeed a sad event, for Faindan was one of the most talented young Knights at Dremlock. A Blue Knight needed two hands to be successful, and by surrendering to the agony, Faindan had all but destroyed his promising career--and soon the truth would strike him hard.
"I warned of this," said Aldreya, to the others. "I sought to strengthen his will, and the rest of you stood against me. Now you see the result."
The Knights sat with bowed heads and gloomy expressions.
Dallsa bandaged the wound. "The stump will heal, Faindan. But your hand won't grow back. Why didn't you listen to me?"
With a bit of struggle, Faindan returned to the saddle. "I feel much better now, my friends. This is pain that I can tolerate, and the wound will heal soon with a bit of meditation. I can continue on and fight with one hand. I...I want to be part of this great quest and return victorious to Ollanhar."
"No, Faindan," said Aldreya. "You would only ride to your doom. You will return to Dremlock, where the High Council will decide your fate. But I am convinced your days as a Blue Knight are finished."
Faindan looked horrified. "But...but I was in so much pain. I had to do something! Don't you understand?"
Aldreya nodded. "But it doesn't matter. I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue. You would only burden us."
For a moment Faindan sat motionless on his horse, his expression pleading. He gazed at Lannon, who simply looked away. Then Faindan lifted the reins in his good hand and rode off for Dremlock, his cry of frustration echoing through the woods.
Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar Page 19
