Insane or not, Verlamer was amazingly cunning and manipulative. He would stop at nothing to sway Lannon to his cause. He seemed to have great passion for everything he did, even taking extraordinary risks just to make a simple point. A powerful aura of energy and vigor engulfed him--a deep embrace of life--that in other circumstances might have been very inspiring. During the their time spent at the river, Verlamer had more fun than Lannon would have believed possible from a simple fishing trip. Yet Verlamer didn't seem to possess a shred of real conscience. He didn't understand pity or mercy. Everything was a game, and his triumphs were all that mattered in the universe.
Lannon was beginning to realize that the suffering of others was meaningless to the king and that Verlamer lacked the capacity to be reasoned with. That was difficult for Lannon to accept, as it diminished his faith in humanity to know that someone like Verlamer could exist. Lannon could understand a monster like Tenneth Bard or the Great Wolf that had sought to torment him. They were hopelessly fused with the corrupting power of Tharnin. But Verlamer's soul was free of that darkness. He was evil in a different way--a way that could not be blamed on the Deep Shadow. His evil was simply the way his mind worked.
"Were you surprised by Shennen's attack?" asked Verlamer, grinning. "I have survived many assassination attempts, Lannon. So many, in fact, that I've lost count. I actually expected Shennen to do what he did. He knows that I am Bellis Kingdom--that without my rule Bellis would be weak and lacking direction. He believed that by killing me, he might ultimately save Dremlock. He was willing to sacrifice his life to do it, and I respect that. But I also knew he would be too slow. And thus my legend grows. To earn great respect and be feared, a king--or any warrior, really-- must take a few risks now and then. This is a valuable lesson for you."
The lesson meant nothing to Lannon because it involved things he cared nothing for. He didn't need to be feared or respected. His only goal was to use his talents to battle against evil and follow the Sacred Laws. In a way, he was just as stubborn and unchangeable as Verlamer.
The king sighed. "I certainly hope the next duel is more entertaining. I don't like them when they finish too quickly."
***
Lannon's friends were given their weapons and armor, and they watched with wide eyes as a Thallite giant stepped from the crowd and advanced on them. Standing just over twelve feet tall, and protected by thick oaken armor, he cast an intimidating shadow over the young warriors. He carried an oak hammer in one hand, and a large, round, black shield was slung across his forearm. With each slow step, the great drum boomed in response--making it seem as if the giant's footsteps caused a thunderous noise. He wore no helm, and his broad face and icy blue, inhuman eyes were visible. A crimson sun was tattooed on his bald head. His face held a confident, amused expression as he studied his youthful opponents.
"I order you to stay back," Aldreya said to Vannas. "Let us protect you."
Without the White Flamestone, the prince seemed defeated and did not argue with her. He let the others gather in front of him.
The Thallite leaned on his oak hammer, threw back his head, and roared laughter. The crowd laughed with him, anticipating a slaughter. Then he raised the hammer and charged, his gaze fixed on Prince Vannas.
The sight of this immense man charging across the grass was terrifying, and for an instant Vannas froze as the others scattered away from him. The great hammer rose high into the air and then came crashing down at the prince. Vannas came to his senses just in time and shrank back, falling, as the hammer struck the ground where he'd been. The hammer rose again, and Vannas rolled sideways.
With a Dwarven battle cry, Galvia leapt at the giant, swinging her blazing hammer at his legs. It was a stout swing that might have crushed the wooden armor plating that protected his thigh, but the Thallite leaned down and blocked the blow with his shield, and crimson sparks erupted. He shoved her back, and she tumbled through the grass--yet her hammer remained stuck to his shield. The giant dropped his own hammer, then ripped hers loose and hurled it into the pit of spikes, as King Verlamer rose and applauded vigorously.
Before the Thallite could pick up his weapon, Jerret's broadsword struck his thigh--hacking a chunk out of the wooden armor and tearing into flesh underneath. Enraged, the giant backhanded Jerret and sent him flying with a look of agony on his face. Jerret landed in the grass, and lay clutching his chest.
Again, the Thallite tried to retrieve his hammer. This time Lothrin struck with his short sword, aiming at a small, unprotected spot on the giant's neck. As Lothrin leapt into the air and thrust his sword, the giant again managed to get his shield up to block the blade. As Lothrin landed, he found his sword stuck fast to the shield. Before he could try to wrench it loose, the Thallite twisted the shield sideways and tore the sword hilt out of Lothrin's hand. The giant kicked at the Birlote Ranger with a huge boot, but Lothrin dodged, moving back out of range.
Grinning, the Thallite tore the short sword from the shield and flung it into the pit. As the Thallite was disposing of the sword, Aldreya hurled a green fireball at his head. Somehow, the giant managed to sense the attack, and he ducked. The fireball flew over his head--inches away from his scalp--and fizzled out a few feet from the crowd.
The Thallite turned and pointed at Aldreya. Then he started toward her, the shield raised. He took two steps and then Vorden struck him in the thigh with his glowing blade. Unfortunately, Vorden's powerful spider sword had not been returned to him, and he was left with a common broadsword. However, the blade burned crimson with the strange fires of his sorcery and cleaved through the oaken armor. However, he failed to make contact with the flesh underneath, and the Thallite seized his throat and lifted him. Vorden flailed about in that choking grasp in an effort to break free. His armor was pulled against the Thallite's shield with a clank of metal. His sword, however, fell from his hand and landed in the grass.
Vorden hammered at the giant with his fist, even as his face turned crimson from strain and lack of air. Aldreya launched another fireball at the giant's head, but he raised the shield with Vorden still stuck to it. The fireball exploded against Vorden's armor, doing no damage.
With a growl, the Thallite turned and shoved Vorden viciously, tearing him loose from the shield and sending him tumbling toward the pit of spikes. Vorden stopped just before the pit, one arm draped over the edge.
Aldreya hurled another fireball--her best yet--at the back of the giant's head. The blazing orb streaked out from the dagger, the green flames writhing about like serpents. It exploded against his skull in a shower of hissing sparks. The giant fell to one knee next to Vorden and clutched the back of his head, which was charred and bleeding. However, his immensely strong skull, and his natural resistance to sorcery, had allowed him to withstand the fireball. He was alive, though momentarily stunned. He groaned and shook his head.
Galvia seized a rock and hurled it at the giant's head, but he turned and batted it aside with his hand. He rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. He glared at Aldreya. "That hurt, little girl. I'm going to smash you into pudding!"
Lothrin circled the giant, his dagger in hand, looking for an opening. The giant winked at him to show he was watching him. Keeping one eye on Lothrin, he swiped up his oak hammer. "Okay, now I'm ready. Let's finish this."
Vorden rose, his gaze fixed on his fallen broadsword which lay at the Thallite's feet. He seemed groggy from being choked, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him. The Thallite glanced at him, grinning. "You want your sword, huh? Come and get it, Knight." He placed a huge boot on the sword.
Jerret rose again and attacked, his smoldering broadsword hacking through wooden armor and tearing into the Thallite's side. With a roar, the giant retaliated with his hammer, missing Jerret by inches as the Red Knight leapt out of the way. The giant's amused attitude had disintegrated, replaced by rage from the pain of his wounds. Now he intended to kill them quickly.
Jerret drove at him again, but this time the Thallite got
his shield in the way. With a clank, the heavy broadsword stuck to the shield, and the giant wrenched the weapon from Jerret's hands. He turned just in time to block yet another fireball from Aldreya, who seemed to be growing a bit weary, a look of strain on her face as she fought to summon more energy.
Jerret backed off, bearing a sullen expression.
The giant hurled the broadsword into the pit. Then he swiped up his hammer again. He glowered at them, his muscles bulging as he held the hammer high in the air. "Come to me!" he bellowed.
Seeing a chance, Lothrin hurled the dagger at the Thallite's neck. It was a swift throw, but somehow the giant blocked with his shield. The dagger stuck to the shield, and the giant left it there.
"Anyone else have a dagger?" asked Lothrin.
No one did.
"Your sword, then," Lothrin called out to Vannas.
"I will fight him myself," said Vannas, starting forward.
"Stay back, Prince Vannas," Aldreya insisted. "Give Lothrin your sword."
With a sigh, Vannas tossed the weapon near Lothrin. "Don't get yourself killed, my cousin. And don't lose that blade. It's the last one."
Lothrin swiped up the short sword and twirled it in his hand. "I will deal with him myself. Everyone else, keep your distance."
The giant stood waiting, as blood dripped from his wounds. He shifted position to face Lothrin, and his foot momentarily left Vorden's sword. Instantly, Vorden dove for the blade, but the Thallite was ready. In a shockingly swift move, he turned and smashed Vorden in the back with his hammer. The vicious blow from the huge weapon drove Vorden flat onto his stomach, the air in his lungs rushing out in a whoosh. His armor held, but he lay motionless, his eyes closed. If he was still alive, there was no fight left in him.
"Squashed like a bug!" the Thallite roared. Once again he placed his boot over Vorden's fallen sword. "Who's next?" He seemed a bit groggy from Aldreya's fireball, however. He winced and shook his head, as if to shake off dizziness.
Lothrin darted in and drove the blade through a thin slot between the armor plates--deep into the giant's thigh, just above the knee. Before the Ranger could withdraw the sword, the Thallite dropped his hammer and seized it. He yanked it from his thigh, and from Lothrin's clutches, and hurled it into the pit with a cry of pain and rage. As the Thallite flung the sword, Lothrin ripped the dagger loose from the shield and, leaping high into the air, plunged it into the Thallite's eye. Lothrin struck with such force that the blade snapped from the hilt. Lothrin dropped back to the ground, still holding the useless dagger hilt.
The Thallite swung his fist at Lothrin's head, and the Ranger just managed to duck a blow that might have killed him. Meanwhile, the giant's boot had left Vorden's sword again, and Jerret dove in and seized it. He rose, then thrust the burning weapon straight through the wooden armor and into the giant's stomach. The giant dropped his shield and clutched at the broadsword with both hands. He staggered back, a stunned look on his face. He ripped the sword loose and hurled it away. He then clawed at the blade lodged in his eye, but was unable to free it.
Aldreya managed another fireball--and this one struck the Thallite's face, blinding him. He staggered about, groaning, and then sank to his knees. He knelt there for a moment, and it seemed he might rise again. But the dagger to the eye had been a deadly blow, and his strength was failing quickly. He lurched forward onto the ground, his clenching hand tearing up a patch of grass as he fought on for a moment. Then he lay still.
The battle was over.
"This is a sorry turn of events," King Verlamer muttered. He slammed his fist down on the table. "One of my precious Thallites beaten by a group of young Knights? Your friends have ruined my afternoon, Lannon."
As Vorden rolled over and tried to get up, Lannon breathed a sigh of relief. His friends had survived--for now. "I guess that ends the duels."
"Yes, for now," said the king, frowning. But the glint in his eye showed that he wasn't happy with losing and would make amends.
Chapter 24: The Challenge
Later that night, after a funeral was held for the fallen Thallite, King Verlamer came to Lannon and released him from his cell. "I thought we could take a walk," said the king. "It is a beautiful night, with a bright moon."
They left the North Tower and wandered through Knightwood along the trails. As usual, the King was accompanied by his two Guardians and his Dragon. The Dragon plodded along at the rear on silent feet, a serpent-like shadow winding its way down the path. Bright moonlight shone between the branches, lighting the trail. The feasting and other festivities were finished for the evening, and an eerie silence hung about Dremlock, aside from occasional wolf howls. Lannon wondered what had become of his friends--if they had been punished for winning their duels. It disturbed him to no end that Verlamer might order them tormented or executed at any time.
Verlamer paused and sat down on a wide stump by the trail. "The earlier duels were amazing, now that I look back on them. The members of the Divine Shield were chosen well. You must be very proud of your friends."
"They fought well," said Lannon. "They deserve their freedom." His Grey Keepers had defeated a Thallite giant, and that was no petty task. That was a duel worthy of legend, and Lannon was indeed fiercely proud of them.
"Yes, they deserve their freedom," Verlamer agreed, sighing. "And you could give it to them, Lannon." He'd cast the baited hook, and he sat waiting in silence for Lannon to take it. He folded his arms across his broad chest and bowed his head, his bearded face ghostly pale in the moonlight.
"How?" Lannon finally asked. He was guessing it had something to do with serving the king--as everything did.
His guess was correct.
"Swear allegiance to me," said Verlamer, "as countless others have done. I can be a wonderful friend to have. I see in you and your bold deeds what my son might have been--had he not been born a worthless wretch. With you at my side, guiding my decisions with your sight, the Birlotes of Borenthia would stand no chance of resisting me. And I will teach you how to best use your gifts. I will keep you from the clutches of Tharnin that doomed your predecessors."
Lannon sensed this was an important moment in his relationship with the king. If he said the wrong thing, Verlamer might lose patience and turn against him. The king had decided Lannon was just as important of a conquest as Dremlock itself, but what would happen if Verlamer failed? Would he resort to attempting to have Lannon executed? Surely that would be a petty response for a king who hated to lose. There was no doubt Verlamer would bargain with Lannon in order to get his servitude. He might even be willing to let some of Lannon's friends leave the kingdom and go free. Yet Lannon knew he could never serve this man.
"This is an important decision," said Lannon, in an effort to buy some time. He was alone in the woods with the king, two heavily armored Guardians, and a Dragon. He contemplated his odds of winning a fight and decided they were slim. He lacked his weapons, and these were mighty foes.
The king's dark eyes gleamed, catching the moonlight. "Yes, it is of the utmost importance. I'm giving you the chance of a lifetime, Lannon. I would be willing to free everyone except the High Council members--even the prince. The Birlotes could return to Borenthia."
Of course, Lannon thought. Vannas had survived the duel, and the king had reconsidered his decision to have him killed. Without the White Flamestone, Vannas had no power to threaten Verlamer. If the prince was allowed to return to Borenthia unharmed, the Birlotes would be less likely to go to war. For whatever reason, Verlamer wasn't yet ready to deal with the Tree Dwellers.
"You could help me maintain order in Dremlock," said Verlamer. "The kingdom could go on just as before--except your banner would fall under that of Bellis. There would be peace and justice here. Dremlock would have virtually unlimited resources. Think of all the good that could come of it."
The king tried to make it all sound so appealing, but what would happen later when Verlamer went to war with Borenthia? Dremlock would be expected to fi
ght against the Birlotes simply so he could expand his empire. It went against everything the Divine Knights stood for. And since Bellis was now in league with Tharnin, Dremlock's war against the Deep Shadow would cease forever (unless Verlamer decided Tharnin itself was a threat that needed to be dealt with). And what would become of the Divine Essence? Dremlock's god would never submit to such tyranny and would view anyone who did as a traitor. Lannon could never agree to betray his god and his kingdom.
So was there any point to buying time? Time was going to run out regardless, sooner or later. Lannon steadied himself, his gaze drifting to one of the Guardian's swords. Should he go on the attack, while the king had few defenders with him? Or should he admit the truth first and observe the king's reaction? He decided on the latter strategy, not yet wanting to risk everything.
"I can never serve you," said Lannon. "It is not my way. I serve only the Divine Essence, my Lord Knight, and the Sacred Laws."
For a moment, Verlamer sat as still as a statute. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Then he rose, towering over Lannon. "Are you sure of that? If you refuse me, I will execute all of your friends. In fact, I may execute every Divine Knight and Squire who now sits in my dungeons. And then I will destroy your god. So I ask you again, are you sure you want to refuse me?"
Anger surged through Lannon, and he stood a bit taller. "I will never serve you, because your soul is frozen. You are a monster."
Verlamer gazed down at him, frowning. "I've been called worse, actually. It doesn't harm my feelings, Lannon. What does bother me, though--immensely--is that I wasted time trying to sway you to my cause. I offered you everything I had, and you have spit in my face."
"You won the battle for Dremlock," said Lannon, "but you lost the battle for my soul. The Eye of Divinity will never be yours. Accept it."
"I do not accept defeat," said the king, "because I haven't yet lost to you. If you won't serve me, then you will die by my hand in honorable combat. I hereby challenge you to a duel, Lannon Sunshield!"
The Blood of Kings (Book 4) Page 31
