Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows

by Robert E. Keller

  "I would rather die," said Lannon, remembering the haunted face of Thrake Wolfaxe's ghost. "The Deep Shadow offers no peace."

  "Fool!" Vorden bellowed. "I am at peace. Look into my eyes to see the truth. I don't have a care in the world, Lannon. My mind is free of burdens, and I live only to serve myself. I'm not a puppet of Tharnin--I just use the Deep Shadow to grant me power. That's why the Tharnin Lords fear me."

  "They fear you because of that gauntlet," said Lannon. "It makes you crazy, Vorden. Yet you can't even see that truth."

  Vorden didn't reply. Instead, he tried to communicate his feelings directly to Lannon--allowing the Eye to glimpse the wonders that Vorden held in such high regard. Lannon saw a bleak, frozen domain where power was all that mattered and kindness, charity, and morality were concepts given little weight. But Lannon felt only disgust for Vorden's ideal world, and Vorden simply couldn't understand why Lannon wasn't enthralled with the concept of Tharnin.

  "If you actually came back to recruit me," said Lannon, "you were destined to fail. You should realize by now that I'm not Timlin."

  Vorden's face turned crimson with rage. "Very well, then witness the fires of purification!" Vorden sent a furious surge of energy into his blade, and it burned even hotter--looking like a tongue of flame. Lannon feared his Dragon sword would be burned through, but the weapon held--perhaps sustained in part by the Eye. Lannon diverted more energy to shielding himself, as a blazing red fireball expanded between them. The fireball suddenly exploded and sent lesser fireballs flying around the chamber, causing Knights and Soldiers to dive for cover. Lannon was blown back several feet, all of his focus on shielding himself from the intense heat and energy, but he stayed standing.

  With a howl, Vorden leapt through the air at Lannon. The two warriors collided in a flurry of sword strokes--with Lannon again mostly defending Vorden's attacks. Vorden was expending massive amounts of energy trying to break through Lannon's defenses, and Lannon was growing weary of having to block blows that would have shredded steel. Battling Vorden seemed to bring out the best in Lannon, but Lannon wasn't sure how much longer he could sustain it. The Hand of Tharnin seemed to harbor endless power, but Lannon was growing exhausted. He knew he had to go on the attack and make something happen.

  Finally Vorden paused, panting. He thrust his arms out and grinned. "This is a great battle, old friend, to make me have to catch my breath. But--"

  Lannon threw everything into a single attack--summoning all the remaining power of the Eye and forcing it into his blade. The Dragon sword responded by lashing out in a move so swift it caught Vorden by surprise. The bone blade cut through Vorden's arm just below the shoulder--the arm that was bound by the Hand of Tharnin. The heavy gauntlet, which was still wrapped around the hilt of the spider sword, clattered to the floor, the severed arm protruding from it.

  Vorden gazed down at the fallen gauntlet, dumbfounded. "You...you cut off my arm. You wretched coward!"

  Vorden reached toward the gauntlet with his remaining arm, but Lannon leapt forward and kicked him in the chest. Vorden fell on his back, blood pooling around his shoulder. "You worthless sneak!" he cried, his eyes wide.

  Lannon stood over Vorden, his sword poised for a killing blow. "This duel is over, Vorden. Do you submit?"

  "I expected better of you!" Vorden snarled. "Is that how you win a duel? By taking a limb?"

  Lannon shrugged. "It did the job."

  "A cowardly attack!" Almdrax cried. The huge Dark Knight raised his axe. "The duel is unfair!"

  "The move was legal," Taris said. "Honor is preserved."

  "Legal or not," said Almdrax, "only a coward severs limbs to win a duel."

  The Legion Soldiers muttered in agreement.

  Lannon nodded. "I accept the label of a coward, if it means saving a life." He positioned the sword above Vorden's heart. "I ask again--do you submit?"

  "Kill me!" Vorden growled.

  Lannon hesitated, then nodded. As much as he hated the thought of killing his former friend, he couldn't afford to lose the duel and allow the Hand of Tharnin to remain with the Blood Legion. If Vorden refused to yield, death was the only alternative. Lannon raised the sword, shutting out his disgust over what he was forced to do. It simply had to be done.

  But Vorden saw the focus in Lannon's eyes and knew Lannon meant business. "Wait!" he cried, raising his hand. "Spare me, old friend. I don't want to die here like this. Yes, I am the loser of the duel. I yield!"

  With a sigh of relief, Lannon lowered his blade.

  Cries of rage and despair arose from the Blood Legion. They cursed Vorden for being a coward, but they were forced to throw down their weapons and surrender. Almdrax was the last to give up, but finally he dropped his axe and bowed his head, his expression concealed--as always--beneath his horned helm.

  Vorden closed his eyes, either unconscious or unwilling to communicate. A healer set to work on his arm.

  Lannon knew that simply removing the Hand of Tharnin from Vorden did not mean his former friend would return to normal. Vorden had a rough road ahead of him. However, one grave threat to Dremlock had been dealt with, and for a moment at least, the Knights and Squires could savor victory.

  Jace started toward the fallen gauntlet, but Lannon motioned him back. "I think I should do this myself." Lannon had once watched in horror as the Hand of Tharnin had attached itself to Vorden, and he had no intention of standing by and watching someone else fall victim to the device.

  "Yes, let Lannon unlock it," said Taris.

  "Why unlock it at all?" said Trenton. "It's not worth the risk."

  "I have to save Vorden's arm," said Lannon, shrugging.

  But before Lannon could even set to work on the complicated lock, the Hand of Tharnin was drawn to Lannon's power, and it strongly desired to bind itself to him. The four latches opened on their own and the device came unlocked in a burst of steam. Before the gauntlet could make a move, Lannon froze it with his power. He removed Vorden's severed arm and stepped back, motioning to Prince Vannas.

  "Destroy it," Lannon said.

  "I wouldn't advise that," said Jace. "Too dangerous. I suggest we lock it away somewhere and study it."

  "Study it?" said Taris. "Like we studied the Dragon Bones? I think I'm quite weary of studying objects infested with the Deep Shadow."

  "I am opposed to studying it," said Shennen, bowing his head. "I don't want a repeat of what happened to Thrake."

  "This is different," said Jace. "To destroy the Hand of Tharnin could result in a malicious demon being released in our presence. And to bury it would be folly, for it will last forever and someone would eventually find it. Place it in Dremlock's most secure vault, until we can find a way to safely destroy it. If nothing else, it should be taken out onto the ocean and sank into the deep."

  Taris looked displeased, but he nodded. "If you believe it is more dangerous to destroy it than lock it in a vault, I will take your word for it. You're the expert on magical relics and that's why we hired you."

  Jace bowed. "I'm just giving my opinion based on my research. The choice is yours, Tower Master."

  "We will eventually sink it into the ocean," said Taris, "where it can rest at the cold, dark bottom forever, where humans cannot go."

  "Where humans cannot go," mused Jace. "Well, at least not yet."

  Chapter 15: The Apprentice

  A day had passed since the duel.

  Lannon, the other Squires, and Shennen gathered by Vorden's bedside. Shennen stood apart from the others with his head bowed, content to let the Squires do the talking, and was simply there as a guard. Vorden was chained to a bed in the Chamber of Healing, and he was awake and alert. His arm had been successfully reattached and he looked healthy enough, though his eyes maintained a yellow tint that indicated he was still infested with the Deep Shadow. He wore a white robe--typical of patients in a healing area--that contrasted his dark hair and evil expression.

  Lannon gazed down at his former friend, looking for some h
int of change now that the Hand of Tharnin no longer controlled Vorden's destiny--but if any change had occurred it wasn't apparent. Jerret, who'd only come because the other Squires had insisted, bore an expression of disgust.

  "So you fools have come to bother me," Vorden said, with a grimace. "Are you here to gloat over your victory in the duel, Lannon?"

  "No," said Lannon. "We just came to see how you are doing. I'm glad your sword arm is restored. You'll need it when you get back to living as a Squire." Lannon was merely trying to project a positive attitude and was not convinced Vorden would ever serve Dremlock again.

  "Living as a Squire?" Vorden laughed. "Don't be silly, Lannon. Aside from the fact that I despise Dremlock to the core of my soul, your kingdom's days are numbered. All along you thought Tenneth Bard was such a grave threat, but he was just a distraction. The real threat was Bellis."

  Shennen raised his head. "Would you care to elaborate on that?"

  "I don't talk to Birlotes," said Vorden.

  "Then tell me," said Lannon. "What was Tenneth Bard planning?"

  Vorden sneered. "Isn't it obvious?"

  "Maybe to a slave like you," said Jerret. "I'm sure Tenneth Bard whispered his plans into your ear many times over. You were his most prized servant, after all--forced to obey his every command."

  Vorden grinned. "Like I once whispered in your ear, Jerret? When I enslaved your mind and forced you to come to me?"

  Jerret's face darkened and his hand settled on the hilt of his broadsword. "You might have lost the Hand of Tharnin, but you're still just a mindless puppet. I have nothing to say to you!" With that, Jerret strode from the room.

  "Good riddance!" said Vorden. "What a pathetic excuse for a Squire. It annoys me to no end that he is still alive."

  "We're waiting for your answer, Vorden," said Aldreya

  Vorden yawned. "Did I just hear another Birlote speak? I'm not saying anything with you foul Tree Dwellers at my beside. I'll tell Lannon--provided the rest of you leave. And take that ugly Dwarf with you, too. The wretched thing about female Grey Dwarves is that they don't have beards to hide their ugliness."

  Galvia's lips tightened, and her meaty hand knotted into a fist as her Dwarven temper surged. But she didn't respond to the insult.

  "The only ugliness I see," said Lothrin, "comes from your spirit, Vorden."

  "Silence, Birlote scum!" Vorden shouted.

  Lannon turned to Shennen. "If you don't mind, I would like to speak to Vorden alone. I don't sense any danger." The Eye revealed that Vorden was still formidable in spite of losing his demonic gauntlet--charged with dark sorcery. But Vorden's chains were stout and he was no match for Lannon's power.

  Shennen nodded, and motioned the others to follow him from the chamber, leaving Lannon alone with Vorden's hatred.

  "Well?" said Lannon.

  "Are you really that stupid?" Vorden shook his head in disbelief. "Tenneth Bard was creating a huge distraction, so Dremlock would not be focused on the growing threat of Bellis. And it worked to perfection. Even as Bellis was advancing to the very edge of Silverland, the Divine Knights were waging war against the Blood Legion and the Goblins. The Goblin Lords, the Hand of Tharnin, the Great Dragon--anything we could think of to throw at Dremlock. It kept you fools busy."

  "Then Tenneth Bard sacrificed his life for Tharnin?" asked Lannon. It didn't seem in character for the Black Knight to do something that unselfish, but Lannon wasn't certain what the sorcerer's motivations were. Lannon's encounters with Tenneth Bard had been brief and Lannon still knew very little about him.

  "Not at all," said Vorden. "Tenneth Bard wasn't killed in your attack. He can't die like that. He is too old and too powerful. You caught him off guard and stunned him, but rest assured he is alive and well. And he will return. He doesn't need a portal to come back. He can pass between worlds at will."

  "I don't believe it," said Lannon, though he doubted his own words. "I saw him fall from the ledge. And if he's so powerful, why didn't he kill me when he had the chance?"

  "He spared you," said Vorden, "because he was trying to recruit you--just like he did the Dark Watchmen of old. Those who possess the Eye of Divinity make excellent servants of the Deep Shadow. He only wanted you to think he was trying to kill you. His goal was to subdue you and make you a slave."

  Lannon couldn't deny that Vorden's words were believable. "Yet he must know by now that can never happen."

  "It doesn't matter," said Vorden. "You were only of minor importance in the grand scheme of things. Tenneth Bard accomplished his goal, and he will return to savor his victory. He will gloat over your grave, Lannon."

  "But what of the White Flamestone?" asked Lannon. "Surely Tenneth Bard never foresaw that device entering the war."

  "It was an unpleasant surprise," said Vorden. "But we knew it was a sign that your god had become quite desperate. After all, how desperate does a god have to be to surrender a very dangerous piece of itself to petty mortals? The Divine Essence knows Dremlock has little chance of survival. And if Dremlock falls, the Divine Essence is doomed. It might be a god, but it is young and vulnerable. It can be destroyed." Vorden's eyes shone with gleeful malice.

  Vorden's words invoked a strong desire within Lannon to protect the Divine Essence. The thought of Dremlock's god and king perishing seemed unbearable, and he vowed to himself that it would never happen.

  "It will happen," said Vorden, as if reading his thoughts.

  "What else can you tell me?" asked Lannon.

  Vorden sighed. "I'm tired of talking. And I've healed up just fine, so there is no need for me to remain in this bed. I know I'm going to be locked in the dungeon eventually and forgotten, so I might as well get to it."

  "You won't be forgotten," said Lannon.

  Vorden rolled his eyes. "Does that mean you're going to come torment me every day with your useless talk? I think I'd rather face the torture rack--which I'm sure is on Dremlock's agenda. After all, they need to probe me for information."

  "The Sacred Laws don't allow it," said Lannon.

  Vorden laughed. "You're so naive. They can get around the Sacred Laws by getting someone else to do the torturing. You think Dremlock is so pure and righteous, but it's no better than the Blood Legion. When people are desperate, anything goes."

  "I don't know about that," said Lannon. "But Dremlock is preventing the Deep Shadow from infesting all of Gallamerth. Maybe we aren't perfect, and maybe the Sacred Laws do get twisted or ignored, but what else is there?"

  "The Birlotes and Olrogs," Vorden answered, shrugging. "But everything else belongs to Bellis. And that's why Tharnin is destined to win this war. Dremlock hid away in Silverland for too long, refusing to get involved in the affairs of the outside lands--and that policy allowed Bellis to become a monstrosity. The Birlotes and Olrogs hid themselves as well, in forest and mountain. Fools."

  "Should we have spread out and stretched ourselves thin?" said Lannon. "Only a select few can be Divine Knights. And we do what the Divine Essence orders us to do. And it obviously ordered us to stay in Silverland and fight the Legion and the Bloodlands."

  "It doesn't matter now," said Vorden. "It's too late."

  "I refuse to believe that," said Lannon.

  "Of course," said Vorden. "You never face up to reality. You live in a dream world where there is always hope. It's sad and pathetic. Now as I said, I'm tired of talking. So go away and leave me to my fate."

  "Rest up," said Lannon, and he turned away.

  "People better watch themselves around me," said Vorden.

  Lannon hesitated, then turned around. Vorden's face was twisted into an expression of pure evil.

  "That's right," said Vorden. "I'm a vile monster. And my body has been altered forever by the Hand of Tharnin. I have the strength of a Troll. If I get a chance, I'll kill anyone who comes near me. I can't wait!"

  "You're not a monster," said Lannon. "You just need to get better."

  Vorden groaned. "You idiot! This is not some injury o
r disease! This is who I am! Why can't you understand that?"

  "Because I've seen it before," said Lannon, "to a lesser degree. In my father. He is a good man beneath his illness, and a strong man. He never let the darkness claim him. You're strong too, Vorden--one of the strongest people I know."

  "Goodbye," said Vorden. "I hope to never see you again. And please don't compare me to that pathetic old drunk."

  "Goodbye, my friend," said Lannon, and he walked away with a heavy heart. He'd been hoping to see some flicker of change in Vorden, but he'd glimpsed nothing but evil. He almost wished Vorden had died in the duel.

  ***

  Outside the Chamber of Healing, Taris Warhawk approached Aldreya and motioned her to follow him. Aldreya could sense Taris had something important to reveal. The two of them walked alone down a tunnel and then passed through a long room filled with beds, trunks, and weapon racks. An iron door led to five chambers that served as the fortress Command Quarters.

  Taris led Aldreya into his chamber--which was bathed in crimson from a single Birlote torch and smelled of incense. A pair of wooden stools accompanied a small, round table upon which green candles stood. Taris sat down and motioned her to sit across from him. Aldreya did so, and studied the room. In spite of being such an elite sorcerer, Taris possessed a simplistic chamber. Aside from a few basic necessities, it contained a narrow bed, two oak chests engraved with Birlote runes, and a dresser atop which sat some scrolls and an incense holder made from a Vulture's skull.

  "Would you care for some tea?" Taris asked.

  Aldreya smiled and nodded, anxious to hear what the Tower Master had to say. Taris' expression was unreadable. He could have been about to reveal terrible, heartbreaking news or something Aldreya might find delightful. She had the urge to wring her hands together, but she forced herself to sit still as Taris heated some water with his sorcery and poured the tea.

  "I have good news and bad," said Taris, "depending on your perspective. I believe my days at Dremlock are numbered."