Lannon stood up, relief flooding through him. At last the long wait seemed to be over. "We're going north? When?"
"In two more weeks," said Jace. "The High Council has already voted and decided. Now I have to decide what I'm going to do."
"Two weeks?" said Lannon, his heart sinking. He wasn't sure he could take another two weeks of waiting. "Why so long?"
"The High Council wants time to prepare," said Jace. "This is going to be a major undertaking. Dremlock's spies have delivered news that makes the High Council think we can strike a great blow to the Blood Legion. Many of the Knights have been called back to Dremlock, leaving the surrounding lands unprotected. The Knights seem to be harboring some secret plan or weapon that will perhaps soon be revealed. Still, I can't help but feel it's all one huge trap."
Lannon nodded. He felt the same way, but he couldn't forget Taris' plight. "I guess we just have to trust the High Council."
Jace sneered. "Wonderful. We'll trust them right to the bitter end."
"The High Council is wise," said Aldreya. "They've earned the right to decide what's best for the kingdom. Why should we doubt them?"
Jace glared down at her again. "Because, my stubborn little friend, they likely don't know what they're talking about. So the spies have returned with news--news that the Blood Legion wanted us to learn. I believe it's all part of the ruse. But who am I to talk? I was thrown out of Dremlock and now I'm no better than a Ranger for hire. My opinion means nothing."
"True," said Aldreya, smiling.
Jace rapped her on the head lightly with his knuckles. "You weren't supposed to agree with me."
She giggled. "Sorry, but I do have faith in the Council."
"I like the decision," said Jerret, nodding as if to reassure himself. "I'm more than ready to ride north."
"You've gotten rather bold, Jerret," said Jace. "All that recent practice must have trained the wits right out of you."
Jerret shrugged. "I'm just dedicating myself to the path of Knighthood. It's a great honor to be a Squire at Dremlock. I've come to realize that."
"Perhaps," said Jace, "but common sense is never to be ignored. But I've done my best, and the decision is made. So there is no use complaining."
"You should go north with us," said Lannon. "We need you, Jace. You have skills and knowledge that are unique."
"I know you'll come with us," said Aldreya, gazing up at him. "You still love this kingdom and what it stands for."
"I must admit," said Jace, "that I would hate to abandon Dremlock in this time of great need. I'm not merely about money--I'm also waging a bit of a war myself against Tharnin. I have been for decades. If Dremlock were to fall, the entire continent would be in grave danger--maybe even the entire world. How can I turn my back on something so important?"
"Then you'll remain part of the Divine Shield?" said Lannon.
Jace sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then nodded. "Though it may cost me my life, I suppose I will ride north."
Lannon smiled. "Glad to hear it."
Aldreya punched Jace lightly in the shoulder. "Me too! I'm more than happy to have the friendliest giant in Silverland fight by my side."
Jace glared down at her, and then his face broke into a smile. "Friendly giant? Is that how you see me? And here I thought I was intimidating."
Aldreya laughed. "Hardly."
"Maybe you can write a book," said Lannon, "about the journey north. I'm sure there will be plenty of adventure to tell of."
"I'm done writing books," Jace muttered. "And I have no urge at all to write one concerning my journey to the Bonefrost Mountains, for that book would likely go unfinished when I fail to survive the trap that awaits us."
"Have faith," said Aldreya, punching him again on the shoulder. "Friendly giants don't act so grumpy and pessimistic."
Jace winked at her, but his face remained sullen.
"Two weeks," Lannon mumbled. "What will we do with ourselves during that time?"
"Train, of course," said Jerret, seizing a sword from a rack.
Lannon groaned.
***
Timlin's journey north was not pleasant. He wasn't used to such extensive riding, and he quickly grew sore in the saddle. The Soldiers were rude to him on the few occasions when they bothered to speak to him at all, and he was given a small amount of stale food that failed to satisfy his hunger. He slept in the open with no blanket and lay shivering under his cloak.
As they drew near to the Western Bloodlands, the weather turned foul--with fog and cold rain. Timlin developed a wretched cold that proved difficult to get rid of, and he spent all day coughing and sneezing. Then one of the men spotted an Elder Hawk through the mist, and they accused Timlin of being pursued by Dremlock spies. They even went as far as to suggest he might be a spy. Timlin protested vigorously, insisting truthfully that he'd never seen the hawk before, but the men would have none of it. Timlin was booted off his horse and left standing in the muddy road, with no food and no blanket. He called out desperately to the men that he was innocent, but they didn't even bother to glance back.
Timlin watched in despair as the riders moved off down the road, wondering how far he still had to go or even if the Legion Council would still hear his words. He was terribly frustrated with himself for wasting his opportunity at Dremlock and bringing suffering upon himself once again. For a moment, his feet seemed to lose the will to carry him onward to Blombalk Fortress, as he considered just trying to find a town and earn a living however he could. But that future seemed so bleak that he finally forced himself onward in the direction of the Council. He thought it might be better to die trying to join the Blood Legion than to live slaving away at some wretched job just to keep food in his belly.
Timlin took to hunting with his bow. He was a poor hunter, having left Dremlock before being taught any wilderness survival skills, but his stealth and aim soon made him better at the craft. He shot a deer but had no idea how to clean it, so he simply took what meat he could. He built a crude lean-to in the woods out of sticks, started a fire with help from his burning dagger, and roasted some of the meat. It had an excessive charred taste but filled him up.
By means of hunting, stealing spring vegetables from gardens, and finding water in streams, Timlin was able to continue north on foot. He met people on horseback along the road--some who were traveling in his direction but who refused to give him a ride for whatever reason.
At one point, Timlin picked up an illness after eating mushrooms that were growing by a stagnant pond. He knew it was a sickness of the Deep Shadow that would not be easy to get rid of even with his Knightly healing skills. He wandered around in a daze for a while, before ending up on a farm. The farmer took Timlin in and put him to work, while allowing the former Squire plenty of rest to battle his illness.
Nevertheless, it took Timlin all summer long to fight off the sickness. The farmer, who was a kind and lonely man, had grown to think of Timlin like a son over the weeks and wanted him to remain. But Timlin never learned to love farm work, and his thoughts were always on the Blood Legion and a more exciting way of life. Although the farmer was like the good father Timlin had been deprived of in his youth, the lad could not escape the feeling that a greater purpose awaited him.
At last Timlin bid the farmer farewell and found himself back on the road to Blombalk Fortress, as the leaves were changing color and a chill had found its way into the air. He was fully healed, well fed, and ready to face his destiny--which he hoped wouldn't involve the Legion Knights cutting off his head.
But as the journey stretched on, Timlin found himself tired, hungry, and miserable again. He begged occasional travelers for food or transportation, but they always looked at him with suspicion and declined. Timlin was growing increasingly angry over it, wondering if he should resort to threats to get someone to help him. Even though he'd betrayed Dremlock, the kingdom's teachings were still echoing in his mind, making it hard for him to resort to anything as dishonorable as forcing some
one to serve his needs at the point of bow or dagger--but his anger was beginning to push him to defy those teachings.
Finally a man came along pulling a long wagon. He was a stocky Grey Dwarf with a scarred face. From the moment he saw Timlin, he showed grave concern for the lad's welfare. "You look in dire need of assistance!" he called out to Timlin from the wagon. "Can I give you a ride somewhere?"
The Olrog looked somewhat like Furlus, reminding Timlin of how much he missed Dremlock in some ways. Timlin grinned in response. "I would be very grateful if I could ride in your wagon. I'm on my way to Blombalk Fortress on the edge of the Western Bloodlands."
The Dwarf frowned. "Blombalk Fortress, you say? Well, that is a Blood Legion stronghold, so I'm guessing you're a Legion Soldier. Anyway, I have no problem with your kind at all. I would gladly let you ride."
"I don't belong to the Legion," said Timlin. "At least, not yet. I'm going there to meet with the Legion Council and ask to join."
The Dwarf smiled. "Ah, a young hopeful." He looked Timlin up and down. "I'm guessing you're skilled in battle, then."
"I was trained at Dremlock," said Timlin, not caring if the man knew the truth. "I know a thing or two about combat."
"And the Knights are not pursuing you?" the Dwarf asked, glancing along the trail and into the woods. A nervous shadow seemed to creep over his face for an instant.
"Not at all," said Timlin. "They'll give me no trouble. Well, not until I join the Legion anyway. Then I suppose they'll want to kill me. It doesn't matter. I have no family to worry about. I'm not afraid to die."
"So you're pretty much alone, then," said the Dwarf, a strange glint in his eye. He quickly added, "So it definitely looks like you'll be needing a ride."
"Just show me where I can sit," said Timlin. "My feet are quite sore."
"My name is Tolus," said the Dwarf, climbing down from his horse. He extended his meaty hand and Timlin's shook it.
His smile put Timlin at ease, and all Timlin could think about was sitting down in the wagon and relaxing.
Tolus led Timlin to the back of the enclosed wagon that was made of thick oak planks. A double door in the rear of the wagon was secured with a plank. "You want to lift the plank?" Tolus asked. "My shoulder is wretchedly sore."
"Of course," Timlin said eagerly. He seized the plank and lifted it. Suddenly, his arms were yanked behind him and the plank fell to the ground. He tried to struggle, but the Dwarf's strength was too much for him. Tolus bound Timlin's wrists tightly in rope and removed his weapons.
Timlin groaned. "What are you doing, Tolus? I have no money."
"This isn't a robbery," said Tolus, turning Timlin about to face him.
Timlin tired to speak, but Tolus shoved a dirty, calloused finger against Timlin's lips. "Just keep quiet, lad, or I'll snap your scrawny neck. You do as you're told, you can have a good life. Understand?"
Timlin nodded, wondering what new madness had befallen him. It seemed he'd been cursed ever since leaving Dremlock--maybe as some divine punishment for wasting a grand opportunity. The will seemed drained from him, and he simply waited for Tolus to tell him of his fate.
"We're going north to Rogue Haven," said Tolus. "There, you will fight in the arena for the amusement of the crowds. If you do well, you get paid well--and you are supplied with hearty food. It's all up to you, Timlin."
Timlin's face turned crimson with rage. "The Knights of Dremlock would never allow such a practice as you describe. This is slavery!"
"You're wrong," said Tolus. "Rogue Haven is a place the Knights pay no need to. It is considered to exist outside of Silverland. The name Rogue Haven kind of says it all, don't you think? And what do you care how the Knights of Dremlock feel about slavery? You betrayed them."
"I'll kill you!" Timlin snarled.
Growling like bear, Tolus spun him around roughly and shoved him into the wagon. "You should thank me for this, lad. The Legion would have no dealings with a little man like you. They would have killed you. Now at least you have a chance to earn a good living--if you can stay alive. Enjoy the ride!"
Tolus slammed the wagon doors.
Chapter 14: The Intruder
When the gathering of Knights finally assembled before the North Tower on a warm fall day, it was nearly two months after Jace had informed Lannon of the Council's decision. Lannon had been overwhelmed with the desire to start the journey, pacing about restlessly during the day and unable to sleep much at night. He'd been unable to focus on his training. The one thing that brought him peace of mind was that Taris' condition didn't seem to be getting any worse. The Tower Master's spirit remained strong, even if his body seemed terribly weak.
At last, the battalion was formed and ready to depart. It was a spectacular sight. The bulk of it consisted of two-hundred and twenty Knights on horseback. The banners of Dremlock Kingdom and the Divine Essence flapped in the fall breeze, while magnificent armor gleamed in the sunlight. There were sixty Red Knights with heavy lances--the battalion's front line--and forty Brown Knights, all swordsman who, unlike the Red Knights, carried shields. Also present were twenty Blue Knights, twenty White Knights brought along strictly for their healing skills, and sixty archers with pale, rune-covered longbows. And there were twenty Birlote sorcerers as well. Mixed in with this huge battalion were a number of siege engines in the care of the Brown Knights, including catapults and a giant crossbow. There were also a dozen Rangers hired for their hunting and tracking skills, fourteen White Wolves, and six Elder Hawks--spies of Dremlock.
Aside from that, all of the remaining members of Lannon's Divine Shield were present. Trenton Shadowbane, now a member of the Divine Shield, was also present much to the dismay of many of the Knights who didn't like the Investigator and typically avoided him. Furlus Goblincrusher--now fully healed aside from a permanent limp--commanded the battalion.
Lannon, Jerret, and Aldreya sat with wide eyes as they beheld the gathering. Everywhere the Squires looked they saw shining armor and weapons, grim faces, and the blazing colors of Dremlock. This was their first glimpse of real war, and it seemed deathly serious. This magnificent battalion was being dispatched in service of the Divine Essence to save the kingdom from foes that seemed to be growing ever more powerful. Dremlock had never lost a war in its long history, even when vastly outnumbered. With the power of sorcery to aid them, the Divine Knights had always triumphed. Dremlock was one of the smaller kingdoms on the continent of Gallamerth--but it was also the most feared and respected. Every king and lord knew that when Dremlock chose to act, it was serious business. Only the Blood Legion, aligned with the Deep Shadow and users of sorcery themselves, posed a dire threat to the survival of the Divine Knights.
The Squires were overwhelmed with feelings of pride and loyalty--and deep uncertainty. They wondered what would happen if this army failed, whether or not Dremlock could endure such a loss. Dremlock chose its recruits with extreme care, and fallen Knights were not easily replaced.
"Servants of the Divine Essence," Cordus said loudly, raising his hands toward the gathering. "You go north with the blessing of the White Knights, for it was Vesselin Hopebringer himself who was shown in a dream what we believe is the correct path to take. The Divine Essence spoke to Vesselin and told him that our fate would be decided in the Bonefrost Mountains."
Vesselin stepped from the crowd of onlookers and bowed to Cordus, his long white hair and beard blowing in the breeze. He looked incredibly old in the bright sunlight, his face crisscrossed with countless lines and wrinkles.
"Some of you may wonder if you are riding into a trap," Cordus went on. "You wonder if the Blood Legion has some horrific surprise waiting for you. While I cannot reveal all that we know, rest assured that the highest ranking Knights among you are well informed of the risks. Knowledge and wisdom our are allies, and there is no doubt that we will triumph!"
The crowd cheered.
"The Divine Essence has also spoken to me," said Cordus. "It has given its blessing to this quest--by
offering a piece of itself. It has created a White Flamestone that will be a light that will guide this army through the darkness!" Cordus reached into his cloak and held up a pale, burning piece of crystal. His hand seemed filled with radiant light. The crowd gasped in amazement.
"With the White Flamestone to guide us," Cordus went on, "we cannot possibly lose this war. I now offer this to a young man--the most promising Squire that Dremlock has seen in ages, the future of this kingdom."
Lannon tensed up, certain he was going to be handed the White Flamestone. He gazed at it eagerly, wondering how it would feel to hold a living piece of the Divine Essence. But then he noticed that Cordus was looking at someone else.
"I now ask," Cordus went on, "that this incredibly gifted lad--a prince of Borenthia no less--come forward and receive the White Flamestone. It was the will of the Divine Essence that he alone should bear it. Now, Vannas Greenrune, come and take this wondrous blessing!"
A tall, handsome Birlote Squire emerged from the crowd, grinning with delight. He waved to everyone, then hurried to Cordus and held out his cupped hands. He wore the lightweight, green and gold, rune-engraved armor of an archer, and a bow was slung across his back.
Cordus smiled. "You will bring hope to Dremlock, Vannas. At last we have gained an advantage over our foes. As the Bearer of the White Flamestone, you are now the most important servant of Dremlock--more important even than myself. Your survival is vital, your fate bound to the fate of Dremlock. You will join the other Squires, protected at all times by a Divine Shield."
Vannas bowed, then turned to the crowd and raised the Flamestone. The gathering erupted into cheers and clapping. Vannas smiled, a look of such confidence on his face it made Lannon cringe. In one sweeping moment, Lannon's status as the most important person at Dremlock has been torn away. He couldn't help but feel immediate jealously toward Vannas.
"Prince Vannas is my cousin!" Aldreya said, beaming at Lannon. "He is a great warrior. I'm sure he will bring much honor to Dremlock."
Lannon nodded and mumbled, "I'm sure he will." In spite of his jealously, Lannon hoped the White Flamestone would give Dremlock the edge it needed to save Vorden and Taris.
Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin Page 18
