Knights: The Blood of Kings (Knights Series)

by Robert E. Keller

  Dremlock's horns sounded, and Shennen said to Vannas, "Quickly, take down the two Trolls before they reach us!"

  Vorden heaved the prince into the air, but Vannas hesitated. "I think they're still out of range. Give me a moment."

  "Attack them now!" Shennen insisted.

  Vannas did as commanded, the white fire blasting out over Dremlock's Knights, but he groaned. "I missed. I need a moment to concentrate!"

  Shennen didn't reply. His face was tense.

  Moments later, Vannas launched another spear of white fire, and this time he cheered. "One Troll down, and one to go."

  Aldreya grinned, pleased that Vorden's idea had already worked so well. But the prince missed again, and the Troll slammed into the wall of Divine Knights, sending broken bodies flying through the air.

  Vannas shook his head. "Can't get a clear shot at it now."

  Shennen cursed the Troll. "Prince Vannas," he commanded, "focus your attacks on the Legion fighters, where they are clustered closest together--apart from our own warriors. Watch for Jace and Taris in the enemy ranks."

  As Vannas blasted away, the two armies clashed amidst the raging storm. This was the most vicious battle Aldreya had ever witnessed, as heavy weapons rose and fell and blood soaked the muddy ground. She stood waiting for the enemy to reach her, striving to focus on summoning her sorcery. This was much different than the battle with Bellis, where relatively calm strategies had been employed. The Legion fighters were raging barbarians, and the carnage they inflicted was devastating. The bearded giants flung themselves at the Divine Knights with no regard for their own life or limb, their war bellows heard over the rain and thunder.

  The lone Troll continued to wreak havoc on Knights and horses, as burning weapons glanced off its skin. Its spiked club--the size of a tree trunk--rose high into the air before crashing down with terrible force, leaving crushed bodies in the mud. Stout Knights, who had survived dozens of battles, were battered into ruin in an instant as the Troll's rampage commenced.

  "We need to dispatch that Troll!" Shennen growled. He bellowed at the archers to shoot it through the eyeball--the only vulnerable spot on its body. But the task was nearly impossible in the wind, rain, and darkness of the clouds--along with the mass confusion of battle.

  "What should we do?" Trenton asked, looking helpless as he stood holding his sword. "If only I had use of my sorcery!"

  "I'm going after the Troll," said Shennen, sheathing a short sword and drawing his curved Flayer. "If it isn't stopped, it will kill half our Knights!" With that, he rode off through the fray in the Troll's direction. Daledus followed him.

  "Go and help them," said Aldreya, motioning to Galvia. Galvia's skill of Fire could burn through Troll flesh.

  "What about our formation?" asked Jerret.

  Aldreya shook her head, realizing it wasn't going to matter in this fight. There was too much confusion to worry about holding formation. Soon the chaos would spread across the battlefield under the blackened sky, a storm of destruction mingled with nature's storm. Everyone would end up having to fend for themselves anyway. Again, she waved Galvia onward.

  As the armies met, Omharal and Ethella closed in on horseback. The High Wizard sat slouched in the saddle, his chest heavily bandaged. His face was a frozen, leering mask that promised pain and death. He was flanked by two archers dressed in black, with hoods like executioners. At Omharal's signal, the archers fired arrows into the Divine Knights that burst open to release a yellow, toxic smoke. Several Knights went down, writhing about in agony and gasping and coughing. Some tore at their bodies, trying to remove armor and clothing as if being scorched.

  "I can kill the Wizard," said Vannas. "I have a clear shot at him."

  Trenton hesitated, then said (with some reluctance in his voice), "We will do as Taris commanded. He had his reasons for giving that order. Ignore the Wizard and focus on the Legion fighters."

  Vannas grimaced in frustration. "But this is so foolish, Trenton. His archers are poisoning our Knights. I can kill all three of them with one shot--and maybe Ethella too. How can I ignore this golden opportunity?" He raised the glowing Flamestone, his eyes blazing with focus.

  Aldreya considered ordering him to halt, but she despised Omharal to the depths of her soul. This traitor to her people had slain more innocents and created more suffering than anyone she knew of--with his deadly poisons and brilliant understanding of how to inspire terror throughout the land. He was an embarrassment to the royal family and a great shame upon the Birlote Wizards. Even Tenneth Bard seemed honorable in comparison to this foul tyrant. She wanted Vannas to turn the White Flamestone against him and see justice served. It seemed fitting that the sacred White Fire would do away with such evil. She could see no reason why Taris had commanded the prince to ignore Omharal, and so she kept quiet.

  As the white fire hurtled forth and reached its target, Vannas cried out in despair. He sagged down, as if his muscles had given out. "I...I've been tricked! It was an illusion of some sort placed in my mind by the Deep Shadow. I just killed some of our Knights--burned them to ash, armor and all!"

  Aldreya gasped, instantly promising herself never to question Taris again. Now Vannas would have to live with that terrible burden--and so would she. Had she ordered Vannas to avoid attacking Omharal, there was a chance he might have listened--and those Knights would still be alive.

  Trenton bellowed in frustration. "I told you not to attack him, you arrogant fool of a prince! Now look what you've done!"

  Vannas bowed his head. "I should never have been given the Flamestone. I...I wish I had never--" With a howl of pain, he lost his balance and toppled over into the mud, landing on his side. An arrow protruded from his shoulder.

  Vorden, Aldreya, and Lothrin knelt by the prince, as Jerret stood nearby watching for the enemy to reach them.

  "I deserve to die," said Vannas. "Leave me be."

  "Nonsense, my cousin," said Lothrin, inspecting the wound, deep sorrow on his face. "And you'll survive this and grow stronger from it." Lothrin reached for the arrow. But Vannas slapped his hand away.

  "I said leave me be!" the prince cried, tears flowing.

  "Let us help you," said Vorden, "while there is still time."

  Lothrin pointed at a black substance that coated the arrow. "Poison, most likely." He shouted and waved to a healer who stood by a wagon, but thunder boomed across the battlefield, drowning out his yell.

  "Well, this is a wretched turn of events!" Trenton muttered, still looking helpless as he stood in the lashing rain.

  "His fight is ended," said Aldreya, with a glance at Vorden. "We will have to make do without him. Perhaps it is for the better." After what had just happened, she'd lost faith in the Flamestone and Vannas' ability to control it. She was appalled that the sacred fire had slain some of their Knights. It seemed to be growing wild in Vannas' hands, a menace to all in its path.

  But the Flamestone suddenly flared to life, pulsating like a beating heart in response to Vannas' pain, misery, and failing health from the poison. Somehow Aldreya could sense what was happening to him--her instincts heightened by Taris' training sessions. It was an intuition shared by powerful sorcerers--almost like she possessed a lesser version of the Eye of Divinity. She watched as Vannas' teeth clenched in sudden rage, and his eyes turned white. The gem became blinding in his hands, and the arrow lodged in his shoulder erupted into flames and burned to ash. The glow lessened in intensity, and the prince rose in a swift, smooth motion, his face crimson and sinister-looking in the pale light. His body was engulfed in white fire, burning the poison from his blood and charging him with lethal energy. He looked like he might simply explode and wipe out the entire battlefield.

  "That's the spirit!" said Vorden, grinning. His yellow eyes gleamed with delight. "Come, my good prince. You have the power--like nothing I've ever felt. Send the Blood Legion into a smoldering ash pit!"

  The prince nodded. "It shall be done."

  Aldreya was chilled to the bon
e. Vannas seemed suddenly overcome by evil, and she wasn't sure what to do. She glanced at Trenton for help, but he seemed frozen in place, his eyes wide. Lothrin also looked appalled, but he too seemed unsure of what action to take.

  Vorden lifted Vannas into the air again. The prince raised the Flamestone to the heavens, and enormous blasts of white fire streaked through the air and battered the Blood Legion, scattering burning enemies all over the ground. Vannas was engulfed in power and completely lost--like a god who was intent on punishing mortals, without thought or concern. He stood like a glowing statue carved from white stone. Even his clothes had gone pale.

  "He has reached a new level," Vorden said, turning to grin at Aldreya. "Like Olzet Ka from the ancient times. How can we ever lose another battle? This is indeed a glorious day for Dremlock."

  More arrows struck Prince Vannas--and burned to ash on contact. He seemed invincible, the vengeance of the Divine Essence in human form. The Blood Legion found itself facing a foe it couldn't touch, yet still the barbarians fought on, even knowing they were doomed to fall. Unfortunately, a few more Divine Knights also got caught in the flames and perished.

  Lothrin's eyes were wild as he gazed at the prince. "Put him down, Vorden!" he cried. "He is losing himself forever!"

  "He'll be fine," Vorden grunted. "He's just charged up for the battle. We don't want to spoil this amazing moment."

  But Lothrin was not convinced, and he seized Vannas' tunic and shook him. "Come down from there, my cousin!" But the prince ignored Lothrin.

  With a scowl, Vorden kicked Lothrin in the stomach, sending the Ranger into the mud. "Stay away from him. The prince cannot be interfered with."

  Lothrin leapt up, desperation in his eyes. "Make him stop!" he yelled to Aldreya. "Order Vorden to bring him down by force!"

  Aldreya hesitated, unsure of what to do. But the haunted look on Lothrin's face was so compelling that at last she commanded: "Vorden, I order you to lower the prince and seize the Flamestone." She wondered if she was making a terrible decision, but she all she could do was trust her instincts.

  Vorden glared at her and did nothing.

  "By order of Taris," said Aldreya, "I am in command. Will you defy Taris--the one who brought you back from the Deep Shadow?"

  "Do it, Vorden!" Trenton ordered. "I too sense that something is very wrong. This...this must be stopped!"

  With a sigh, Vorden pulled the prince down into the mud. He ripped the Flamestone from his hand, cried out in pain, and tossed it away. Vorden stood on shaky legs, his hands and face scorched red. Smoke rose from his armor.

  Lothrin leapt onto the Flamestone and shoved it in his tunic pocket. His hand lingered inside the pocket, clutching the gem.

  "He burned me," Vorden mumbled, looking stunned. "It was so hot I thought I might turn to ash inside my armor." He gasped for breath for a moment, while raising his arms to the rain--as if letting it cool him down. When he could talk again, he added, "It took all of my power to save myself. His will is incredibly strong."

  The prince lay motionless, his eyes closed.

  "What happened?" asked Aldreya, wondering if Vorden had turned his sorcery against Vannas. "Did you harm him?"

  "I didn't do anything to him," said Vorden, "at least on purpose. I think he is simply unconscious. I guess I shouldn't have ripped the Flamestone from his hands. I think that shocked him somehow--disrupted his energy."

  "You did the right thing," said Lothrin, kneeling next to his cousin. "There is a chance now that he can be saved."

  Vorden looked puzzled. "Saved from what?"

  Lothrin gazed up at him piercingly. "Saved from becoming what you were--a rampaging monster and a prisoner in your own flesh."

  "But the White Flamestone is sacred," said Vorden, "and not like the evil of the Hand of Tharnin. How can you compare the two?"

  Lothrin shrugged. "Power is power. All of it can corrupt."

  At that point, the Blood Legion forces fought their way to the Grey Keepers in a flood of war horses, heavy armor, and hacking weapons--and there was no more time for talk. The young warriors had to fight or die.

  ***

  When Lannon reached the Watchman's Keep, a spring storm (typical for Silverland) was raging. There was still plenty of daylight left, but the blackened sky cast a heavy shadow over the land. Thunder boomed across the hills, lightning flashed in the west, and the rain drove down in windswept sheets. Lannon's waterproof Birlote cloak kept him dry for a time, but the storm was so fierce he ended up soaking wet beneath the garment. Once again he found himself wishing he possessed Knightly fire so he could dry himself. For all its many powers, the Eye of Divinity couldn't prevent him from being damp, cold, and miserable.

  As Lannon stood before the tower, the raindrops beating against his silk hood and the oaks around him swaying in the wind, he realized he'd lost track of time. Something important had happened to him out in the grasslands after he'd made his escape from Old Hill Forest. He felt like he'd been on an adventure, but his memory seemed frozen--clouded with bizarre images of blue ice that popped into existence and then faded away just as quickly. His shoulder was torn open, possibly from teeth or claws--a gaping wound that would require healing meditation (though he was more concerned with the annoying hole in his cloak). He also held a gold coin in his hand adorned with an image of a Dwarven King. The Eye of Divinity revealed nothing about his wound or the coin.

  Lannon could almost remember something about blue ice and a dangerous journey below ground. He'd lost something on that journey--certain memories and perhaps something else. He also recalled a shadowy tomb of the ancient dead lurking somewhere in the hills--a tiny fragment of a memory. He had the feeling that something amazing had happened to him. But his mind had been damaged on some forgotten quest, seared by bitter ice, and now there were holes in his life--missing time he hadn't even been aware of until now. How many days had passed since the Wolf had abducted him? He wondered if it was all a trick of the Deep Shadow or some weird business concerning the Eye.

  Lannon shuddered at the thought that he'd lost himself out there in the hills--possibly for days--and hoped it would never happen again. The entire journey had been surreal and bizarre, and now, as he stood with the dark tower looming above him, he breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. The Wolf had accomplished its mission--to separate Lannon from his companions and leave him lost and confused. But the Watchman's Keep offered a strange reassurance, reminding him of his place in the world. Aside from Dremlock, this was his other home, and even though it was partially cursed by the Deep Shadow and quite dangerous, it inspired optimism within him. It was a great place to rest and get his thoughts in order.

  Lannon glanced at the gold coin, shrugged, and stuck it in his pocket. Perhaps someday he would remember. For now, he was back to normal and ready to rest for a while before moving on to Kalamede.

  In spite of the storm, Lannon was in the mood to explore, and he took an interest in a nearby apple tree. It was quite large for a tree of its kind and very gnarled, its sprawling branches touching the ground in some places. It stood in the small, mossy clearing that surrounded the tower, away from the shade of the huge oaks in the grove. Lannon found this lone fruit tree compelling, and the Eye revealed it had been planted by the Birlotes and had lived for centuries. It still harbored the magic of the Tree Dwellers that gave it strength and longevity, but it was also infested with the Deep Shadow. The apples it would bear as summer drew close to fall were poisonous, causing a disease of Tharnin that would eat away at the body and mind. Lannon understood all too well the affects of an illness like that, since his father had fallen victim to such contaminated food.

  Lannon walked to the tree and stood beneath it, allowing its sturdy branches to shelter him a bit from the wind and rain. He could sense the Birlote magic--still so strong and wanting to break free--but the Deep Shadow held it in check, forcing the once noble tree that had borne sweet, delicious fruit to live as an abomination. Lannon ran his hands over the
rugged, mossy trunk that was partially webbed in vines. At first it seemed cold to his touch, but underneath there was warmth to be found. He vowed to begin removing the curse from the Watchmen's Keep by freeing this tree. If he could drive out the Deep Shadow here, he could do it elsewhere and perhaps free the entire tower from its grasp. But he had no idea how to begin.

  "I'll return for you," Lannon said to the apple tree, patting its trunk. "Someday I'll taste your fruit, as the Watchman of old did." But he wasn't sure if he had the power to drive out the Deep Shadow without killing the host. That was a task more suited to a White Knight.

  Lannon turned away from the tree and its suffering. It was time to enter the keep again. He'd been away for too long, and he was overcome by the urge to walk the stone rooms and halls where the bones of many adventurers lay in dust. They had perished because they--unlike Lannon--were intruders there. They were not welcome. The tower had been designed for a Dark Watchman alone, and for anyone else to enter it was folly. Yet Taris Warhawk had explored the keep more than once and lived to tell of it, and Lannon's respect for the sorcerer's skills was immense. The tower was a deathtrap--a smoldering lair of sorcery--which was why its secrets had endured for so long after the fall of the Dark Watchmen.

  A screech split the air and Lannon whirled around, drawing his sword. It had seemed to come from the apple tree. Glancing up, he saw something he'd missed before--a large Elder Hawk perched amongst the branches, blending in with the craggy wood. Unlike Dremlock's Hawks, this one had a wild look about it. It cocked its head to one side as it watched Lannon, and then suddenly flew off through the rain with a beating of wings and entered a lofty tower window.