***
The celebration went on for a couple hours, as Knights wandered about the camp talking and laughing or sat with their backs against boulders or pines. Some drank a bit too much ale (in spite of being ordered not to by Aldreya) and dozed off by the fire. They felt like they had conquered the Soddurn Mountains, with the blazing crimson fire sending flame and spark high into the air as a warning to the servants of Tharnin to stay away. The smell of cooked bear meat lingered, mixed with pipe smoke and a strange, spicy scent that emanated from the bonfire and invoked nostalgic feelings within the Knights for Dremlock Kingdom.
But not everyone was celebrating.
Dallsa remained with Bekka in an attempt to heal her or at least diminish her suffering. Dallsa was weary and sad, her energy low from working too steadily at her task. She was in dire need of rest--barely able to stay awake as she sat in the back of the wagon--yet Bekka was in such a grim state from the evil that infested her body that Dallsa simply couldn't leave her like that. No one else could help, though Lannon had Taith bring Dallsa food and water and whatever else she needed. Taith complained about having to serve, but he did as Lannon commanded and was careful and thorough in his tasks.
Another Knight wasn't celebrating--Vorden Flameblade. He stood apart from the others amongst the trees, once again holding his spiked shield. He bore a sullen expression and was not inclined to speak to anyone.
At last, Lannon approached him. The two stood in the shadows beyond the firelight and feast--a cloaked Dark Watchman who wore no armor and a muscular Knight who looked like an armored wall.
"What's wrong?" Lannon asked, though he already knew the answer. Vorden was angry that they had ignored his advice and had chosen to celebrate.
Vorden glared at him. His yellow eyes shone in the dark.
"You should come back to camp," said Lannon, "and eat something. The food is delicious. You should try Lothrin's fried mushrooms."
"Why do you sorcerers like mushrooms so much?" asked Vorden. "I don't care for them. I prefer meat and potatoes."
Lannon shrugged. "I never noticed that sorcerers in particular like mushrooms." He considered it, then added, "Come to think of it, though, Jace and Aldreya both seem to love them. Hmm... I never actually used to like mushrooms until I arrived at Dremlock. They're one of my favorite foods these days."
Vorden scowled. "Count me out."
"What about some bear meat?" asked Lannon. "Jace cooked it. The seasoning on it is amazing, though he won't tell anyone what the ingredients are. He seems to think his recipes are important secrets."
Vorden shook his head. "My stomach would not allow it, Lannon. I know everyone is enjoying themselves--and maybe they should, considering what we're facing on this mission. But I can't be part of it. Not here. This place sickens me. These mountains are so infested with the Deep Shadow it seems to smother me. I feel short of breath, actually."
"I can't say I know what you're feeling," said Lannon. "But I do sense the presence of Tharnin here, and it is ugly. I'm guessing that slumber will bring about some nasty dreams."
"It's not just that," said Vorden. "These mountains remind me of who I once was. The evil deeds of my past seem so fresh in my mind tonight. I still can't believe or accept the fact that I brought so much suffering to the land. Don't bother telling me it wasn't my fault, that the Hand of Tharnin was using me. I still feel like a weakling for failing to free myself from it."
"Yet you are a Divine Knight," said Lannon. "That says everything. If the High Council had believed you were even slightly responsible, you would have been thrown out of the Order. Obviously, Taris and the others have great faith in you. You still bear the scars of the Deep Shadow and yet you have earned the trust of the other Knights. That's nothing short of astonishing."
"Save your praise, Lannon," said Vorden. "It's not going to help. Timlin is dead because of me, his soul tainted by Tharnin. I wonder if he can even find peace, or if he is cursed as a restless spirit like the Dark Watchmen."
"But it wasn't you who killed Timlin," Lannon pointed out. "I'm the one who has to live with that burden. I wanted to save him, but I failed."
Vorden shook his head. "Timlin was already hopelessly lost when you slew him, all thanks to me. I took control of his mind and set him on the path of doom. You only did what you had to do."
"No," said Lannon. "Timlin burned the Red Candle at Dremlock. He made a choice to seek out the Blood Legion, before the Hand of Tharnin had any influence over him. He chose his own fate."
Vorden looked away. "Regardless, the darkness here will torture me every step of the way. There is nothing to be done about it."
Lannon patted him on the back. "Come and have some food." With that, he returned to camp, feeling frustrated that he couldn't help Vorden. Vorden's scars ran deeper than Lannon could comprehend.
Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar Page 38
