The Blood of Kings (Book 4)

by Robert E. Keller

  "But my blade is supposed to be flawless," said Londa. "How could Dremlock's blacksmiths make such a mistake? They're getting sloppy."

  Gronth shrugged his broad shoulders. "It happens, you know. Flaws can slip into any blade. But that sword is still a masterpiece." The Ranger was old, but Lannon sensed that he still possessed great skill. He was a Grey Keeper for a good reason: this man was a deadly warrior with a grand reputation. He was known as the Lord of Rangers and was greatly feared by his enemies.

  Londa pushed the sword toward Gronth, her green eyes twinkling. "Trade me, then. Your sword for mine. What say you, old man?"

  Gronth raised his bushy eyebrows. "You want a beat up old Ranger sword in exchange for pure Glaetherin? I wouldn't do it. I'd be robbing you blind."

  She smiled. "Even with the chip?"

  "You might need that blade today," said Gronth. "You know that Adeus Blackshield will be visiting us, demanding his duel. In fact, he should be arriving shortly. Perhaps you will be the one to fight him. Yes, it probably will be you--just to make this old heart quiver with anxiety."

  "I don't need a sword to win a duel," she said, patting her arm. "I can fight barehanded just fine, old man. Or haven't you noticed? I wish to make the trade strictly for your benefit."

  Gronth nodded. "But a Watchman is always better off with a Glaetherin blade in hand--especially when dealing with someone like Adeus Blackshield. You can't win every battle by brute force. I appreciate your offer, but I must decline."

  She glared at him. "I'm a Watchwoman. Get it right!"

  Gronth smiled. "Watchchild is probably good enough for a mere lass like you. You're nearly young enough to be my great granddaughter."

  "And you're nearly old enough to sprout moss," she retorted, "and about as crusty as Malna's bread. Shouldn't you be resting in your grave by now?"

  "Perhaps," said Gronth, "but I'd like to hang around a bit longer to teach you a few things about life--before you learn the hard way."

  The two of them spent a lot of time engaged in such banter, teasing each other in ways others perceived as harsh or insulting. But Gronth thought of her like a daughter and was always watching out for her, in spite of her immense power.

  She slammed her elbow on the table, challenging him to arm wrestle. "Come on, you old dog, I'll make you show respect!"

  "I'd rather keep my arm attached," said Gronth, with a chuckle. "I still get some use out of it now and then."

  "Mere lass, huh?" Londa glowered at him. "We shall see about that. Consider the duel today to be mine."

  "It should be mine, actually," said Baltheor, pushing his plate of pie crumbs away. Lannon's gaze strayed to the High Watchman, as he was called in his leadership role. This was Baltheor's memory, and Lannon felt it must be quite important to him. He was a lean and handsome fellow, with very dark skin and hair and a neatly trimmed black beard and mustache. Unlike Londa, he was all about the art of swordplay--a fighter who favored speed, skill, and cunning over brute strength. His rune-covered Glaetherin sword was everything to him, working in flawless harmony with the Eye of Divinity. Lannon realized he himself was a combination of the fighting styles of both Londa and Baltheor, and he wondered if he would be wise to pick a primary style and develop it to the fullest.

  The third Watchman, a short, bald man named Cordus Nightblade, shook his head. "We will roll the cube and let chance decide, as usual."

  "But you hate duels," said Baltheor.

  "Yes," said Cordus Nightblade, "but simply because I hate them doesn't mean I am excused from participating in them."

  Lannon found himself liking this fellow immediately--and not just because he shared his first name with Dremlock's Lord Knight (Cordus was a popular name in Silverland). This was a soft spoken, peace-minded warrior whom Lannon could instantly relate to. Cordus Nightblade specialized in a defensive style of combat, preferring to use his heavy broadsword to deflect attacks and, with the flat of it, deal less damaging blows to his opponents. He used the weapon as both shield and club. His fondness for sparing his enemies had run him into trouble more than once, but it was an unalterable part of who he was. Like Lannon, he was a warrior who preferred to kill only when absolutely necessary. However, Lannon wasn't particularly fond of this Watchman's defensive style, for it didn't seem aggressive enough to deal with foes like Tenneth Bard or the monstrous Wolf that was stalking him. To survive, Lannon felt he needed to wield deadly force.

  Baltheor shrugged, looking sullen. "I guess we roll the cube, then. I strongly regret that we ever agreed to this notion of letting chance decide our duels." He took a bone-white, numbered cube from his pocket, and the three Watchmen chose their numbers. He flicked the cube over to Gronth.

  The Ranger lifted the cube and examined it carefully. He rubbed the sides with his thumb and weighed it in his hand, perhaps only for show. Then, nodding, he rolled it. He studied the results and sighed. "Londa."

  She raised her arms in triumph. "My lucky day."

  Baltheor frowned. "Nothing lucky about getting chosen for a duel. It was my exchange with Adeus that led to this, so I alone should bear the responsibility. Also, the agreement was that a Watchman--any Watchman--would face one of Adeus' warriors or himself if he chooses to fight. He wants me, and if I'm not participating, he will likely try to send one his monsters into battle. We could refuse that, of course, since Goblins are not capable of waging honorable duels."

  "Goblins don't worry me," said Londa, rolling her eyes. "How many did I kill since being recruited by Dremlock? I've lost count."

  "Yet Adeus' Goblins are very powerful," Baltheor said quietly, "even for a Watchman to deal with. Why not let me fight him? Not only will it be a fair fight, but it will put an end to his evil. If I win, that is."

  Londa hesitated, then shook her head. She gazed at him defiantly. "I won the cube toss, Baltheor. I will fight him."

  "Stubborn fool," he muttered.

  Londa shoved the tin of blackberry pie toward him. "Stuff that in your mouth and be quiet. You're not going to deprive me of my battle."

  So far Lannon hadn't seen anything remarkable. The Watchmen seemed like typical Divine Knights (except more powerful). He'd been expecting something else, though he wasn't sure what. Their reputation was so extraordinary he'd almost begun to think of them as inhuman--more like mysterious gods (or demons, considering how corrupt some of them had become). Instead, they seemed like simple warriors that he could easily relate to. This fact also gave him a sense of relief, for it meant he stood a chance of living up to their standards.

  But as their conversation continued, Lannon realized their simplicity was deceptive. The Eye showed him a glimpse of the truth. These three Watchmen functioned on a level that few others could hope to reach. They reminded him of Taris Warhawk--calm and certain of their place in the world, always staying a few steps ahead of everyone around them. They had control of their lives to a degree that made Lannon envious, and he wondered how they could have ended up struggling so fiercely against the Deep Shadow's influence. But he could only tell so much from watching them in conversation, Eye of Divinity or not, and he needed to see them in combat. He hoped he would get a chance to witness the duel they had spoken of.

  And that chance soon came to pass, as a bellow reached Lannon's ears. Someone was shouting Baltheor's name from outside the tower--a gruff voice demanding the High Watchman respond.

  Baltheor rose and went to the window, gazing down. The other two Watchman followed suite. Lannon found himself also gazing out the window, looking right through the others as if they weren't there.

  Adeus Blackshield stood on the mossy ground below. Lannon instantly perceived that he was also a Dark Watchmen--one who had already fallen victim to the Deep Shadow. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man who wore a shining breastplate shaped into a snarling wolf's head. He held an evil-looking, gleaming axe in his hand--an axe Lannon recognized as the one that hung atop the illusionary door below the tower (which proved the axe itself was not part of the
illusion, but a real and deadly weapon). Adeus' eyes were wild, his hair and beard long and black. He pointed up at them. "It is time, Baltheor. Come down and we will settle this."

  Adeus stood near the apple tree, which was covered in lush spring blossoms. He leaned on his battle axe, an impatient expression on his face. The leaves in the oak grove around the clearing were just beginning to sprout. It was such a warm and pleasant day, not at all fit for bloodshed.

  Baltheor sighed. "I won't be fighting you today."

  "Coward," Adeus replied. "So you will hide in your tower and let someone else fight your battles. I expected no less. It was you who slew my best Keeper and invaded my campsite. It was you who left me wounded, so that I wasn't sure I could fight this duel. Yet I have fully recovered, and there is no reason for others to take our places. This is our conflict."

  "No," said Baltheor. "I must follow Tower Law."

  "Tower Law?" growled Adeus, looking disgusted. "A law you invented, which Dremlock does not endorse. You fancy yourself to be something greater than a Watchman--like a king gazing down from his castle. Dremlock wasn't good enough for you. This tower was constructed to suit your wretched ego."

  "Think what you wish," said Baltheor, "but we left Dremlock because of people like you--those corrupted by Tharnin. We lost trust in our kingdom. Now we stand alone and follow our own Sacred Laws."

  Adeus waved dismissively. "That tower will be your tomb."

  Lannon found this exchange fascinating. In spite of being corrupted by Tharnin, Adeus Blackshield seemed to represent Dremlock. Perhaps the High Council had failed to see that corruption, or perhaps they had failed to act on it for lack of evidence. It was Baltheor who was the outcast and rebel.

  "I'll fight you," Londa called down. "If, that is, you're not too afraid to accept the challenge."

  "If I must," said Adeus, scowling.

  Londa leapt out the window, her Birlote cloak billowing as she fell to the ground. It was a drop of about forty feet, but she landed softly, kneeling for a moment before bounding up. She strode over to Adeus, who towered over her.

  Adeus frowned. "On second thought, I take no pleasure in slaying a lesser Watchman. I wasted my time coming here." He turned his back to her.

  Londa laughed. "I expected no less. You are afraid."

  He turned, his face reddening in anger. "Good effort, but you won't snare me into a pointless battle that easily. I have another foe you can face. A beast. You may refuse, of course, in which case I will simply leave."

  Londa glanced about, but no one else was visible. "Summon your monster then. I came down here to fight." Her voice sounded cocky, but she looked uncertain as she scanned the trees with the Eye in search of her foe.

  Adeus gave a piercing whistle, and a rumbling sound arose in response. A couple of trees shook and then a massive Cave Troll strode into the clearing. This was, by far, the largest Troll that Lannon had ever seen. It was over eleven feet tall, and its muscles bulged like boulders beneath its armored skin. It held a great battle mace gleaming with steel spikes. It looked invincible. Lannon thought surely Londa would change her mind about the duel.

  But she simply nodded. "Fine by me."

  Gronth groaned and glanced at Baltheor. "This would be a good time to overrule her. I'm an expert on Goblins, and I can tell you this is likely the most powerful Troll to walk this land in my lifetime. I've encountered dozens of Trolls--some nearly as tall as this one, but none so bulky. An army would probably be hard pressed to bring that one down."

  "He's a big fellow," Baltheor agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "She won't be able to match it with brute strength. This really isn't a good fight for her. But there won't be any changing her mind about it."

  "Yes, she is wretchedly stubborn," said Gronth, "just like me."

  "Using a Troll to fight for you," said Londa. "That's a violation of the Sacred Laws. What if the High Council finds out?"

  "Those cowards would do nothing," said Adeus, sneering. Then he commanded the Troll to kill her.

  The Troll leapt forward and slammed the mace down. Londa easily dodged the blow, and the weapon split a mossy boulder in two. Londa hacked at its leg with her broadsword--a blow that would have cut through a small tree trunk with ease--but the weapon deflected off the armor-like skin.

  The Troll scooped up half of the split boulder in one hand and hurled it at her with blinding speed. Yet she caught the heavy rock and flung it back into the Troll's chest. The rock exploded on impact and the Troll staggered, its black eyes widening at witnessing such strength.

  The Troll swung at her again and again, scattering moss and rock. She dodged each mace blow and continued to respond with her broadsword--striking at the beast's eyes. At one point she got around behind the Troll and leapt on its back, wrapping her arm around its neck. She squeezed with all her might, trying to crush its throat. The Troll stumbled and nearly went down.

  The Watchmen looked on silently from the window. They didn't cheer like Divine Knights would have during a duel. They were somber, disciplined warriors who were always focused and alert. Lannon felt like he belonged with the group. It was a strange feeling, considering he lived in a different age.

  Lannon was amazed at Londa's fighting style. She used strength to her advantage with every move. It made her unique. As the Troll sagged to one knee, Lannon was certain Londa was going to choke the beast to death. The thought of anyone dispatching a Troll that way--especially one as monstrous as this foe--was inconceivable, but Londa made it look easy.

  However, the Troll managed to fling her off its back, and it rose and turned, bellowing and swinging its mace. Londa seized the weapon and ripped it from its grasp, hurling it several yards away. But the creature was far from helpless. The Troll hammered at her with its fists--a flurry of blows that showed the beast's great speed. It rained blow after blow upon her. One of its fists connected, smashing into Londa's shoulder and driving her to the ground.

  She cried out in pain, then rolled aside as the Troll sought to stomp her with its gnarled feet. But now she was on the defensive and the Troll was moving in for the kill. Gronth winced and glanced at Baltheor. Lannon looked on in shock, wondering if this is where Londa Spiritwind had met her doom so long ago. It appeared that her fighting style had ultimately failed her--that strength alone wasn't enough. The Troll wasn't going to let her rise from the ground.

  The Troll pinned her under one huge foot, and it pressed down viciously against her chest, growling with rage. Londa's face was crimson with strain and agony, with only the Eye of Divinity keeping her from being crushed instantly. Lannon considered looking away, before he witnessed her meet a brutal end. Why had Baltheor's shade wanted him to see this?

  But Londa managed to shove the foot off her chest, and she yanked the Troll's legs out from under it. It fell onto its back, and she leapt up, sword in hand. This was where Lannon noticed a distinct change come over her. Rather than try another move based on brute force, she seemed to relax her mind and body, focusing her energy into her blade. The broadsword flashed in the sunlight and then drove down through the Troll's eye--a perfect strike. Not only was the move flawless in its accuracy, but it was delivered so swiftly the Troll never had a chance to react.

  The Troll shuddered violently, clawed at the sword, and then relaxed in death. Londa wiped her blade on the beast's loincloth and sheathed it. She stood gasping for breath, holding her ribs and glaring at Adeus, whose face bore a frown. "Take your filthy beast with you. I don't want it stinking up the tower grounds."

  "It is too heavy," Adeus muttered. "I will send men to claim it. I should never have come here. This duel was pointless."

  "I disagree," said Londa, gazing at her palms with a surprised expression. "I just learned a valuable lesson. It saved my life."

  Scowling, Adeus Blackshield made his departure.

  ***

  Lannon's spirit was pulled back through time to the present, and he was disappointed. He'd wanted to learn more about the feud
with Adeus Blackshield and to see some of the other Watchmen in action.

  Instead, he flew like the wind over hills and treetops, through valleys, and across fields and farms--as lightning flashed harmlessly around him and raindrops passed right through him. He flew until he saw ten riders on horseback. He recognized them as Dark Knights from below Dremlock, but he didn't know what their business was or why they were being revealed to him. The Eye locked onto them, and Lannon could sense that he might be able to meet up with them. It wasn't a sure bet, but there was a chance of it if a bit of luck was on his side.

  Then he was slipping away again, flying over the landscape so swiftly that everything became a blur. He next found himself hovering above a sprawling kingdom, at the center of which was an enormous golden dome with towers protruding from it like spikes. He recognized it as the Kingdom of Bellis. People dressed in fancy clothing wandered the paved streets outside the dome. The kingdom was bustling with activity, as horse-drawn carriages and wagons passed by the many shops, inns, and houses. Heavily armored Knights also rode through the streets, some of them bearing the royal banner. Everywhere Lannon looked there were bright colors, magnificent statues and monuments, lush hanging plants, and money changing hands. Lannon could sense that Bellis had once been a noble kingdom--a shining example to all of Gallamerth--and it still retained that appearance. But inside the dome lurked madness, and that is where Lannon knew he must venture.

  Lannon was drawn into the dome, back into the throne room in the huge hall adorned with marble pillars. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows, shining upon statues of Knights and those of sacred spirit creatures--the protectors of Bellis Kingdom. A crimson carpet ran up to the royal throne, where King Verlamer sat drinking from a large goblet. His golden Dragon lay on the floor at his feet, apparently asleep. Assembled before the king was a group of elite Knights--including Staldor Darvus, the Lord Knight of Bellis.