Knights: The Blood of Kings (Knights Series)

by Robert E. Keller

  He understood Dallsa's terror. He'd felt it too when he was relatively new at Dremlock and had ventured into the wretched mines below the kingdom, and he couldn't fault her for it. She wasn't even a trained Squire yet and she was doing the best she could.

  They wandered around for what seemed like hours, gagging on the stench. At last they came to a dreary tunnel--lit by torches in iron holders on the walls. Midway through the tunnel was a hideous entrance shaped like the grinning mouth of a demon with two great, curved fangs and a tongue rolled out to greet them. A crimson torch burned in each eye socket. The power of the Deep Shadow squeezed Lannon in its grasp. He took a step back and almost went down on one knee, his will and strength faltering momentarily.

  Suddenly, Lannon was struck by a powerful memory. He remembered standing before this very entrance (perhaps in the Eye of Dreams) and feeling exactly the same way--as if he would fall to one knee. The memory was so powerful it left him in a daze. But when had it occurred? Try as he might, he couldn't remember.

  "Are you okay, lad?" asked Valedos. "You look pale."

  "I feel like I've seen this before," said Lannon. "I...just can't recall how or where. It's like something from a dream, Valedos."

  The Dwarf frowned. "A dream? Dreams are sometimes useful. I do sense the power of Tharnin here--very strongly, like in some areas of the mines. The darkness in there is very heavy, and my gaze cannot pierce it. Unless you think there's a chance Taris and the others are lurking in there, I suggest we avoid it."

  Dallsa pointed at the blazing torches. "Those aren't causing anything to explode, obviously. Does this mean I had to walk in darkness for nothing, surrounded by snakes, bugs, and rats?"

  Valedos shrugged. "Could be just a safe area. I don't know. But we're leaving those torches right where they are, so don't get any ideas."

  Dallsa sighed. "Can't I take just one of them?"

  Lannon searched for signs of the other Knights, but he found no trace of them in the tunnel. It didn't necessarily mean they hadn't been there, however, as there were forces that could cloud the Eye's gaze. Lannon then sought to peer beyond the entrance, but the power of Tharnin seemed to repel him.

  "I can't see anything either," he said, "but I think we need to search there." He wasn't sure why he was advocating going into the grim entrance--as his fears screamed at him to get away from it and he had no evidence that Taris or the others had even passed this way--but he felt that some great secret must lie beyond the doorway that needed to be revealed.

  "Lannon," said Dallsa, pointing, "there is something horrible about that doorway--aside from how ugly it is. And it is quite ugly! Anyway, I feel dark sorcery like I've never felt before--like it wants to crush me."

  Lannon nodded. "I feel it too. But I still want to go through."

  Valedos sighed and discussed it with the Dwarves. Then he nodded. "Alright, once again we'll agree to your plan. But I strongly suggest you stay behind us, as we're expecting battle."

  "I can defend myself if needed," said Lannon, feeling a bit insulted. Obviously these Dark Knights weren't very familiar with his reputation.

  "Lannon is a great fighter," said Dallsa, pushing a lock of dark hair from her eyes. "I've seen him in combat more than once, and he is amazing."

  "Thank you," Lannon mumbled, grateful for the support.

  Valedos looked him up and down. "I'm sure you can fight, boy, but you seem best at kicking people in the legs or knocking them out. That type of stuff won't work against the creatures of Tharnin."

  "I've fought Goblins many times," said Lannon.

  But Valedos didn't seem convinced. "Don't worry, we'll do all the fighting that is needed. You just hold back and help when you can. Put that Eye of yours to good use and watch for tricks or traps. Let us take care of our foes."

  "Fine," Lannon muttered, sensing he couldn't reason with Valedos. "I'll guard the rear then. I guess someone has to."

  "Lannon should be at the front!" said Dallsa, to the mighty Dwarf. "Are you kidding me? Listen, this fellow is no ordinary Knight. Don't you know anything about the Dark Watchmen?"

  Valedos ignored her, a look of contempt on his face.

  "Oh really?" she said, glaring at Valedos. "So my opinion isn't worth a comment?"

  "Not to me," said Valedos, waving at her dismissively. Then he gazed at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Who are you, anyway?"

  She hesitated, then said, "A White Knight." She cleared her throat. "Well, that's what I plan to be if things go my way."

  "Good, we need a healer," Valedos grunted. "Things might get bloody down here."

  She lowered her gaze. "I'm not a trained healer yet, actually. I'm hoping Lannon will put in a good word for me, though."

  Valedos had taken to ignoring her again, as he examined the entrance.

  "Regardless," she went on, "Lannon should lead the way. I'll bet he is the most skilled fighter in this group, even if he isn't the strongest." When Valedos continued to ignore her, she added, "Hello? Can you hear me?"

  "It's okay, Dallsa," said Lannon. "I'm fine with guarding the rear."

  "Yes, you guard the rear," said Uldrun Stonecrusher, giving Lannon an amused wink. "That's what sorcerers are best at. Throw some fireballs or something--carefully, mind you, so you don't hit one of us--but don't let that fancy sword get in our way."

  "I don't fight like that," Lannon tried to explain. He sought to stand a bit taller--though he was already taller than the Dwarves. "I usually fight with my blade and not like a sorcerer. I'm actually a fully trained Blue Knight."

  "Fully trained," Dallsa echoed. "Believe it."

  Valedos shook his head in amusement. "Why is a sorcerer trained as a Blue Knight? Makes no sense, if you ask me. I'll bet you're somewhat lacking in skill for your color class. Am I right? Sure, maybe you can pick a lock or two, but I'll bet when it comes down to it, you go back to doing stuff as a sorcerer would."

  Lannon said nothing, knowing Valedos spoke true. He wasn't as capable as most Blue Knights, due to his weak Knightly Essence--but he wasn't the worst of the lot; and the Eye of Divinity more than made up for his lack of talent. But there was no point in trying to explain all that to these elite Olrog warriors. They had already decided that Lannon was just another spell caster who might get in the way of real fighters, and his words would only fall on deaf ears.

  They stepped into the demonic-looking jaws and found themselves in a short tunnel. The presence of the Deep Shadow was repulsive. The Dwarves handled it better than Lannon. He desperately wanted to exit the tunnel, as the dark sorcery seemed to rub against his flesh like cold serpent skin, but he shored up his will and followed along behind the others. He practically had to drag Dallsa along behind him, as the foul sorcery nearly drove her into a panic.

  They stepped through into a large torch-lit chamber--a temple. Just how long this temple had existed in the sewers below Kalamede, Lannon and the Dwarves didn't know--but the moldy stone blocks looked ancient. At the center of the circular room was a towering iron statue of some Tharnin deity--a four-armed, reptilian giant wearing bulky armor and holding a spear. Beneath the giant's horned helm was a scaly lizard-like face that glared down at the intruders. Behind the statue was a bloodstained altar made of iron pieces fitted together and engraved with bone-shaped images and runes. Straw mats lay on the floor with folded blankets, and barrels of food and drink stood in the covers. The temple was also a well-stocked home, and some of the occupants of that home were there to greet them--fifteen Ironheart Priests--with maces and bags of snakes held ready for combat.

  "Stay behind me," Lannon said to Dallsa. "This is going to get ugly."

  Dallsa pressed against him, breathing anxiously.

  As the cultists charged, their evil eyes gleaming beneath their dark hoods, the Olrogs ran forward to meet them. Axes clattered against maces and lodged into orange flesh, and the cultists were pushed back by Dwarven fury.

  But the Priests fought back viciously, and one of the Ten Axes went d
own after taking a solid blow to the head. The other Dwarves tried to protect him, but the cultists swarmed on him, raining more blows down on his skull. Even a stout Olrog could not withstand such a brutal assault.

  Driven berserk over their fallen brother, the other Dark Knights struck back with mighty blows that nearly cleaved some of the cultists in two. Lannon joined in on the action, his Dragon sword lashing out to cut down one of the bizarre creatures that was charging at him. He seized another with the Eye and then ran him through--then glanced behind him to make sure Dallsa was okay.

  Snakes were flying everywhere, and another Dwarf went down from a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head. Lannon seized some of the snakes with his power and crushed them or flung them away from his companions, giving the Dwarves a chance to focus on the cultists.

  The Ironheart Priests were immensely strong and quick--but no match for the Dark Knights. The huge battle axes rose and fell, leaving brutal carnage in their wake. Soon the fight was over. It had been a brief yet vicious battle.

  The Dark Knights mourned the fallen Dwarf--who was still breathing but had little chance of recovery even if they managed to get him to a healer. He'd simply taken too many stout blows to the head, and now only his massive constitution was keeping him alive. Dallsa knelt by him and checked his wounds, a sad expression on her face.

  "I wish I could help him," she said. She closed her eyes and prayed aloud to the Divine Essence that his spirit would find peace, as the others stood with eyes closed and heads bowed. Moments later, he passed on.

  The Dwarf who had been poisoned still had a chance to recover, however, though he wasn't doing very well. He coughed, gagged, and clutched at his throat, as the Venom sought to overcome him. A Norack or Birlote would have already been dead, but the Dwarf fought on in misery.

  Dallsa laid hands on him and prayed.

  "I hope we slew all of them!" growled Valedos. After he calmed down a bit, he said to Lannon, "You fought well, boy. If not for you, there might be more of us lying around poisoned. I'm impressed."

  "Thank you," said Lannon. Coming from an elite Olrog Knight, the compliment meant a lot to him.

  "We're not the Ten Axes anymore," said Valedos, to the other eight Dwarves. "We were together for a long time, and we killed many Goblins in the mines. It is a shame, but all things must end."

  "You could be the Nine Axes," said Dallsa. "Well, if this other one recovers from the poison. That's still a lot of axes."

  Valedos' face darkened and he fixed his gaze on her.

  "Dallsa," Lannon whispered to her, "you're not helping the situation."

  But Valedos' broad face broke into a grin. "The Nine Axes, you say? Why not! There is still plenty of battle to wage before all is said and done."

  "We still need to find Taris," said Lannon, impatience gnawing at him as he thought of Bellis drawing ever closer to Dremlock.

  ***

  When Aldreya awoke, she found that Jace had somehow managed to rise again and had smashed apart the stone barrier. Blood dripped from his knuckles, and he looked exhausted. The toxic vapor had diminished, but it was still potent enough to threaten to smother Aldreya into unconsciousness again. She summoned her sorcery and this time managed to fight off the effects, rising unsteadily to her feet. Taris and Vorden were also standing, but the others remained unconscious.

  It didn't surprise Aldreya that three sorcerers (and Vorden, who also had significant use of sorcery) were able to resist the effects of the vapor more easily than the others, though she wondered why Trenton was still sound asleep on the floor. Trenton seemed like a feeble sorcerer in some ways--and not much better as a warrior. And yet he possessed abilities that were inconceivable to her.

  Jace, Taris, and Vorden were standing before the shattered slab. Aldreya joined them.

  "Now what?" she asked.

  "Now we defend the fallen," said Taris, peering into the shadowy tunnel, "until they awaken. Expect an attack at any moment."

  Jace wiped his bloody knuckles on his cloak. "I wonder what they're waiting for. Surely they realize by now that their plan has failed."

  "It didn't fail entirely," said Vorden, "as only four of us are left standing." He paced about impatiently in his dark, bulky armor, his yellow eyes gleaming inside his helm. "Maybe the cowards are afraid to deal with us."

  "Calm yourself," said Aldreya, sensing a strange mood within Vorden. He seemed agitated--perhaps even enraged.

  "I'm calm enough," Vorden said, pausing to lean on his sword. "But I'm also angry that these wretches would resort to using toxic smoke to weaken us. Sneaky cowards afraid of fair combat."

  Jace chuckled. "Fair combat is not a concern of the Ironheart Priests. They live only to serve Tharnin, and whatever accomplishes that goal is fair enough to them. These foes have no honor whatsoever and are exempt from Tharnin law. They are very much like common Goblins or other creatures of the Deep Shadow spawned in this world. They are free to be as evil and wretched as they choose."

  Vorden clenched his hand into a fist. He no longer wore the Hand of Tharnin, but he was still an imposing figure in his black-and-gold armor. "Then they should die like Goblins, down to the last filthy one!"

  "Are you okay?" Aldreya asked, wondering if the Deep Shadow was still influencing Vorden a bit. It didn't seem likely, considering how much faith Taris had in the Squire, but she couldn't help but wonder.

  Vorden looked away. "I'm fine. Just a bit angry. I don't like sneak attacks of any kind. I...lost my arm to one. And even though I know it was fair and just, and I'm glad Lannon did it, it still troubles me."

  "I understand," said Aldreya. She patted his arm. "At least you had it reattached and it works fine--and you're free of that evil gauntlet."

  "Lannon did me a great favor," Vorden acknowledged, "but I'm still enraged over these cultists using that vapor on us. It also reminds me of what happened below Dorok's Hand--when my Legion fighters used that same vapor on the Divine Knights. It's such a disgraceful way of fighting."

  "Control your temper," said Taris, "or it will make you reckless in battle. You're a Norack, Vorden, and not cut out to fight like a Grey Dwarf."

  "I will heed your words, Master Taris," said Vorden.

  "Exactly," said Jace. "Always stay calm in a fight. That's what I do."

  "Are you sure, Uncle Jace?" asked Aldreya, not quite believing him.

  "Of course," Jace insisted. "I am the pinnacle of self control."

  "Except when it comes to eating," said Aldreya, with a grin. "You have the appetite of a Grey Dwarf."

  Jace shrugged, then patted his belly. "It matters not. I'm too active to gain weight. Bring on the bread loaves and rice pudding!"

  "You sleep half the day," Aldreya pointed out, "whenever you can get away with it."

  "Nonsense," Jace muttered. "It's called meditation, and I'm still quite active the rest of the time."

  "You must snore when you meditate," said Aldreya. "Everyone in camp can hear you!"

  "The Priests are coming," Jace said casually, nodding toward the darkness of the tunnel (and perhaps feeling grateful for a change of subject). "There are at least a dozen. Prepare."

  Defending the fallen wasn't easy. Powerful sorcerers or not, there were only four of them--against fourteen priests armed with iron clubs, poisonous serpents, steel crossbows that fired burning arrows, and foul sorcery that caused confusion. Jace took a flaming arrow to the shoulder that ignited part of his cloak for an instant, and Vorden, overcome by evil sorcery, mistook Aldreya for a foe and nearly cut off her head. Only her quick Birlote reflexes allowed her to duck the blow.

  After tearing the arrow from his charred shoulder, Jace seemed to grow enraged (in contrast to his statement only moments before), lashing out with his fists in all directions. Two cultists went down and never rose again, but one blow accidentally glanced off Vorden's helm, staggering the Squire. Groaning, Vorden seemed to lose the will to fight, wandering around in a daze. "Sorry!" Jace said to Vorden, as his rage slipp
ed away and left him looking sheepish.

  "It appears fire is safe here!" Taris muttered. His stone dagger erupted into flames and deflected a burning arrow that was headed for his face.

  Delighted that she could use her sorcery freely, Aldreya hurled what she considered to be a perfect fireball at a Priest, but he batted it aside with his iron club. Before she could hurl another, he leapt on her and took her to the ground. She gagged on his foul breath and sought to shove him off, but his strength was immense. He dropped his club and his hands found her throat, choking her viciously.

  In a panic, Aldreya drove her burning dagger into his side. The cultist howled in pain and rose, clutching at the smoking wound. He glowered down at her with hatred, sweat pouring from his orange, warty skin--even as Vorden regained his senses, turned, and beheaded the cultist from behind.

  Aldreya sprang to her feet, grateful that Vorden was watching out for her. It seemed somewhat surreal that the former Black Knight of the Blood Legion now fought on her side. How had things changed so dramatically?

  But Vorden again seemed to lose the will to fight, and he sheathed his sword. He leaned against the tunnel wall, breathing hard, his head bowed.

  "What's wrong?" Aldreya shouted at him. But he didn't answer, and she was forced to defend herself again.

  With Vorden out of the action, the battle was prolonged a bit, but the Priests were still no match for the three remaining sorcerers. Jace and Taris seemed unstoppable as they attacked their foes--two ancient and powerful sorcerers with skills virtually unmatched outside of Borenthia. Meanwhile, Aldreya helped out when she could. Her own skills had improved dramatically since she'd become Taris' apprentice, and two Priests met at their doom from her fireballs.

  After the last cultist had fallen, they turned their attention to Vorden. The Squire had removed his helm, and his face was pale and appeared anguished. He waved them away, but they refused to move.