Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows (23 page)

 
By the time they reached Dorok's Hand, the
snow was melting even in the mountains. They proceeded cautiously into the
peaks, anticipating an ambush from the Blood Legion, but they rode all the way
to the fortress gates without encountering any trouble. They found that Furlus
and his Knights had taken back the upper areas of the fortress, and that the
gates were once again sealed and guarded.

It
was late afternoon, and the sky was streaked with red from the setting sun,
when the Divine Shield and the others reached the fortress. It had been a warm
day, but now a cold wind blew through the mountain peaks. The guards cheered at
the sight of them, and then hurriedly pulled open the massive wooden gates and
led their horses into the stables.

Lannon
glanced up at the towering statue of Dorok and shuddered. The statue looked
sinister, reminding Lannon that evil had returned to the fortress. The Hand of
Tharnin waited for them within--the device that had claimed the soul of
Lannon's best friend and had raised a Great Dragon against Dremlock.

"This
time, we're going to finish off Vorden," said Jerret, nodding to himself.
"No more escapes for that servant of Tharnin. Right, Lannon?"

"Vorden
will not leave Dorok's Hand alive," said Vannas.

"Few
have ever returned from the prison of the Deep Shadow," said Lothrin.
"It seems death is the only answer for most."

"The
Vorden we knew is already gone," said Aldreya. "All that remains is a
monster bent on Dremlock's destruction."

Galvia
voiced her agreement.

Jerret
gazed at Lannon, waiting for a response, but Lannon didn't look at him and
didn't reply. Lannon had no idea what would happen, but his goal was to take
Vorden prisoner if possible. He was probably alone in that goal--as everyone
around him seemed determined to see Vorden dead, believing it was for the
better. But try as he might, Lannon couldn't quite bring himself to adopt that
way of thinking. He couldn't abandon all hope that his friend might somehow be
saved from the clutches of the Deep Shadow.

***

As
Timlin Woodmaster and his Legion warriors approached the gates of Old Hammer
Hall, there was a strong feeling in the air that something was amiss. The
fortress, which was carved into the mountain like Dorok's Hand, appeared
normal--with the huge stone drawbridge raised above a deep trench that ran in
front of the keep. The two guard towers--also carved from the mountain--were
occupied by twenty archers. Two Ogres wearing fur and leather and armed with
wooden hammers stood to the right and left of the drawbridge.

Old
Hammer Hall was clearly still occupied by the Blood Legion, yet Timlin knew
instinctively that the mood was grim. The guards did not cheer as the riders approached.
In fact, they didn't even smile.

After
the drawbridge was lowered by thick chains, a member of the Legion Council--a
Birlote sorcerer named Ethella--strode out to greet them. She was a tall women
who was always accompanied by two Goblin Lords. She wore a black robe adorned
with red Legion symbols, and she held a crystal staff into which demonic faces
had been carved. Her silver hair was bound with black ribbons and set high, and
her beautiful face was painted white in imitation of the Tharnin Lords. Ethella
was a priestess of Tharnin and was greatly feared and despised by the Legion
Soldiers who were less heavily influenced by the Deep Shadow. They thought of
her as a cold-hearted monster.

Timlin,
however, liked Ethella and had found her to be his strongest supporter outside
of Ulmason Deathhand. Typically she greeted Timlin with a warm smile, but as
she approached, her expression was somber.

"What's
wrong?" Timlin asked, as he swung down from his horse. He motioned
everyone to hold back so he could talk to her privately.

Ethella
leaned close to him. "Bellis is here, my lord."

Timlin
stood in silence for a moment, his hand inside his cloak and clutching the
Black Flamestone in a fierce grip. "They sent a Knight?"

Ethella
shook her head. "They sent Omharal and two Guardians. They wish to meet
with you at once."

"Omharal?"
Timlin groaned. The High Wizard of Bellis was one of the most terrifying
figures in all the land. He was an alchemist who drew his power from powders
and potions. But Omharal wasn't just an alchemist--he was also a deadly
assassin. He'd killed enemies of Bellis simply by having messages delivered to
them that were coated in invisible poison that was absorbed through the skin.
He'd poisoned the wells of villagers for refusal to pay taxes, resulting in
widespread illness and death. Certain people he disliked had simply dropped
dead in his presence, with no proof of his involvement uncovered.

"It
is my belief," said Ethella, "that Omharal has come to claim the
Black Flamestone for Bellis. If so, my lord, we must obey. We cannot defy the
will of Tharnin. And Bellis could help us at last win this war...after all
these centuries of bloodshed. There is too much at stake to refuse them."

"I
would never defy Tharnin," said Timlin, but it was a lie. "Why would
you think otherwise? I have been nothing but loyal to Tharnin."

Ethella
didn't answer, but simply gazed at him.

Timlin
knew she wasn't fooled. Somehow, she could sense his intent. "Does Bellis
know we have possession of the Flamestone?"

"Yes,"
said Ethella. "After you sent your last message, I was forced to pass the
information along to Omharal. However, he didn't indicate what his intent was
or why he wishes to speak to you. He has been waiting in Old Hammer Hall for
days, making all of us uncomfortable. I will be glad to see him leave."

"So
maybe he doesn't plan to take the stone," said Timlin, though he knew it
was unlikely. "Maybe he simply wishes to discuss the status of our
alliance."

"It
doesn't matter," said Ethella. "Tharnin has already spoken. You,
Timlin, must bow before King Verlamer."

Timlin
nodded, but he silently cursed Tharnin. "I'll meet with him immediately
and we can find out where we stand."

"Who
carries the Flamestone?" asked Ethella.

Timlin
hesitated, annoyed at her question. "I have it."

Her
eyes widened. "You, and not our priests?"

"Yes,
me
," said Timlin. "Now go and arrange a meeting in the Dining
Hall and make sure food and drink are on hand. Our strongest wine and
ale."

Ethella
bowed. "Of course. And welcome back, my lord."

Timlin
forced a smile. "Pleased to be back." But he wasn't pleased at all.
He realized he should have escaped into the wilderness with the Black
Flamestone in the dead of night. He'd strongly considered it each evening when
they were camped, but hadn't quite been able to bring himself to do it. Now he
was caught in a difficult position, with bloodshed the likely result.

Chapter
14:
 
A Duel of Blades

The
company proceeded on foot into Dorok's Hand, with Taris in the lead. The Tower
Master, whose head wound was still bandaged, walked slowly and seemed to be
partially dragging his left foot. Following Taris was the rest of the Divine
Shield. The fortress had a strange, smoky scent to it--perhaps left over from
the toxic vapor the Blood Legion had used to drive out Dremlock's warriors.
Grim-faced Knights lined the entrance hall on either side, weapons drawn.
Furlus Goblincrusher approached them and nodded to Taris.

Lannon
was glad to see Furlus again, for the Dwarf always inspired confidence with his
unyielding attitude.

"Welcome
back," Furlus said gruffly, though concern was in his gaze as he studied
Taris in the torchlight. The Grey Dwarf looked weary, and his cheek bore wounds
that resembled claw marks--as if he'd recently tangled with a Jackal. His heavy
plate armor displayed a gash in the chest area. His hair and beard looked
unkempt, and his face was streaked with dirt.

"I
can't say it is good to be back," said Taris, with a wry smile. "I
assume you received our latest message?"

"I
did," said Furlus. "How are you feeling, old friend? I hope that
Specter knocked some sense into you."

Taris
grinned. "Not likely."

"Why
don't you rest up a bit," said Furlus, "and have some food. Then we
can discuss the situation with the hostages."

Taris
seemed lost in thought for a moment, his brow furrowed--as if he were
struggling to remember something. At last he said, "I prefer to get on
with important business. The hostages shouldn't be made to wait."

"Nonsense!"
said Furlus. "The situation is under control. The hostages are being fed
and cared for. No need to rush into anything."

"We
should rest and eat," said Shennen, to Taris. "We're all weary from
riding and in need of fresh clothes and good food."

"Agreed,"
said Trenton. "We can make plans after dinner. It would be unwise to take
action without careful planning."

Taris
looked uncertain. For a moment he seemed confused. He adjusted the bandages on
his head and smoothed out his cloak, while the others waited for his reply.
Then he nodded.

***

The
Knights and Squires were allowed to wash and change clothes, before having
dinner in the Dining Hall. The wide variety of delicious foods was a welcome
change from their travel rations. After everyone had eaten their fill, the
Divine Shield gathered at one of the tables to discuss the situation.

"The
Blood Legion's demands are simple," said Furlus. "Vorden wishes to
meet Lannon in combat. If Lannon wins, the Legion Soldiers surrender and the
hostages go free. If Lannon loses, the Hand of Tharnin and the Soldiers are
allowed to leave Dorok's Hand, and the hostages are released."

The
news was not unexpected to Lannon. He knew Vorden would stop at nothing to
destroy him. If Vorden could kill Lannon and escape from the fortress with the
Hand of Tharnin, it would be a great victory for the Blood Legion. But as much
as Lannon feared the Hand of Tharnin, he was willing to risk his life to try to
take Vorden prisoner.

"So
another duel?" said Trenton, with a grimace. "Dremlock's duels have
not been productive lately."

"And
whose fault is that?" said Taris, in a shaky voice. "I chose Flund
Greenhelm, not Daledus."

Daledus'
face reddened in humiliation. He took a quick swig of ale.

Trenton
shrugged. "Flund was injured. Who should I have chosen, then?"

"Someone
experienced," said Shennen, glaring at the Investigator.

"Let
us focus on the current issue," said Furlus, "and not worry about
past failures. Is anyone opposed to Lannon engaging in this fight?"

"I
am opposed," said Prince Vannas. "I suggest we storm the chamber the
Legion is occupying and kill all of them. Enough with the duels! Dremlock has
trained me extensively to use this Flamestone, so what are we waiting for? I
will turn Vorden and his precious Hand of Tharnin into ash."

"Agreed!"
growled Daledus. "Divine Knights do not bargain with cowards who take
hostages. We should end this with bloodshed!"

"I
strongly disagree," said Jace, who'd cleaned two platters of food and was
still nibbling on some cheese. "On the contrary, this is the perfect time
for a duel. Lannon can defeat Vorden, and Dremlock can claim the Hand of
Tharnin and either destroy it or lock it away somewhere. Otherwise, we risk
many deaths and the possibility of Vorden escaping."

"But
if Vorden wins the duel," said Taris, "then we will be forced to let
him walk out of Dorok's Hand. We have lost two duels in a row." He rubbed
his forehead, again looking confused. "I believe it has been two in a row,
anyway. Dare we risk losing a third?"

"How
many Knights are being held hostage?" asked Trenton.

"We
currently believe there are sixteen Knights still alive down there," said
Furlus, "and three Orange Squires. All of them are tied up and
guarded."

"Nineteen
people," said Shennen, shaking his head. "If we storm that chamber,
they might all be killed. I am very much in favor of Lannon fighting the
duel--if, that is, Lannon agrees to it."

"I
agree to it," said Lannon. But he wasn't sure he could win. He wondered if
this duel would be the death of him. But as a Squire of Dremlock, it wasn't his
place to live in constant fear of death, and so he blocked the thought from his
mind. His focus needed to be on winning the duel and freeing the hostages.

"I
believe this is too important," said Taris, "to risk on another duel.
We've lost the Black Flamestone, and Bellis has made threats against Dremlock.
If we lose the Hand of Tharnin as well, our fate may be sealed. My opinion is
that we should launch a quick strike on Vorden and his Soldiers and finish them
off."

Furlus
nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

"I
agree," said Trenton. "They will be expecting us to accept the duel,
but we will surprise them with our assault."

Shennen
slammed his fist down on the table. "Once again my wisdom is ignored! Is
it because I'm not on the High Council? Well, I am the Lord of the Blue Knights
and I
should
be a High Council member. Regardless, I grow weary of being
ignored. I was opposed to Thrake fighting in the first duel, and no one
listened. Thrake deliberately lost the battle. I asked to be allowed to fight
in the second duel, and my request was denied--even though I know I could have
prevailed. Now I firmly believe Lannon should fight this duel, and again I am
ignored."

"I
question your judgment, Shennen," said Taris. "The Dragon bones
changed you. You no longer look like a Birlote, with that pale skin. I will
admit that I don't fully trust you. I...I had something done with the
bones..." He shook his head and glanced at Furlus, a gap in his memory
revealed.

"You
ordered them buried," said Furlus. "And the order was carried out.
The Dragon bones are lost forever beneath earth and stone. Their location will
be kept a secret forever, by sworn oath."

Shennen's
lips tightened, his pale face turning crimson for a moment. "Those bones
held many secrets, but yes, they were a greater danger than I had assumed. And
sadly, my old friend Thrake Wolfaxe was a victim of my foolish miscalculation.
I blame myself for Thrake's ruin, and because of that, I will never have peace
of mind in this lifetime again. Yes, the bones are better off buried. But I
assure you, Taris, that I am not under their influence. I know Lannon can
defeat Vorden--at least in a duel of blades. He has grown stronger in his use
of the Eye and become a much better swordsman. Just this once, I ask that you
put your trust in me."

Taris
gazed at Shennen in silence for a moment. Then he turned to Lannon. "Are
you sure a duel is for the better?"

Lannon
hesitated. What if he lost? It not only would cost him his life, but it might
bring about the doom of Dremlock. And Lannon was not convinced his use of the
Eye had improved. In fact, he seemed to tire more quickly when he tried to
seize and move objects or enemies with it. If anything, that aspect seemed to
have weakened with prolonged use--perhaps from being used too much and draining
his energy. However, he was learning to channel the Eye through his sword and
he was more confident in his ability to fight as a Blue Squire.

"I
await your answer, Lannon," said Taris, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm
not sure I can beat him in a duel of sorcery," Lannon admitted. "I've
been worn out lately or something. But I think I can win in a duel of blades.
My sword skills have definitely improved." Shennen's faith in him gave him
confidence.

"The
Eye is changing," said Taris. "It is shifting its energy to adapt to
your needs. That is one of the great mysteries of your ability--that it changes
over time as you change. You are improving overall, though, and learning to
fight like a Blue Knight, which will make you vastly more potent in
combat."

"So
are we voting on this?" asked Trenton. "We have three High Council
members present."

Taris
shrugged. "If we must. I accept Lannon's opinion on the matter--his belief
that he can prevail. In the interests of avoiding bloodshed and the deaths of
the hostages, I vote for Lannon participating in the duel."

Furlus
was thoughtful for a few moments. Then he said, "I second Taris' vote, and
let the record show that I put faith in Shennen's opinion as well."

Shennen
bowed, his face showing gratitude. "Thank you, Master Furlus. It is good
to know at least one High Council member values my opinion."

Trenton
sighed. "Well, I'm not going to be the lone fool to vote against the Tower
Masters. So count me in favor as well."

"Then
it has been decided," said Taris. "We will offer Vorden a duel of
blades--or there will be no duel. We’ll send a messenger at once."

"If
we lose," said Daledus, "the Hand of Tharnin will pass from this
fortress and join with the Black Flamestone against us. Are the lives of the
hostages so important that we risk the fate of Dremlock to save them?"

"Yes,"
said Taris. He pondered it for a moment, then said: "It is what the Divine
Essence would expect of us. Every Knight and Squire is extremely valuable to
us. Dremlock is not three great towers and a fortified wall. Dremlock consists of
a god and a group of Knights and Squires. Dremlock exists wherever we exist.
Defending the lives of those hostages is the same as defending the kingdom
itself."

***

Vorden
accepted the duel of blades, and the Divine Shield and twenty Knights proceeded
below to the chamber that held the portal to Tharnin. Lannon led the way down
into the torch-lit tunnels, to where two Blood Legion guards stood just outside
the chamber. The guards motioned them inside.

The
room held mounds of earth and stone--dug from the portal. Legion soldiers stood
near the hostages, their weapons drawn, though the promise of an honorable duel
had allowed them to relax some.

Vorden
and two bearded, heavily armored giants (including the Dark Knight known as
Almdrax, who'd been imprisoned in Tharnin along with Vorden) stood waiting for
Lannon. Vorden seemed even larger and more muscular than when Lannon had last
seen him. He still wore his black and gold armor (though the crack that the
Dragon had inflicted upon it had been mended), minus the helm. His black hair
had grown long and had an unkempt look to it. The blue stones in the Hand of
Tharnin glowed brightly, and the chamber was hot. Vorden waved to Lannon with
the large gauntlet and smiled.

Without
hesitation, Lannon threw off his fur cloak--to reveal the silk Birlote cloak
beneath. He approached his old friend, until he stood just a few feet away from
him. Vorden looked Lannon up and down and nodded.

"Fancy
cloak," Vorden said. "You've got a confident look about you these
days, Lannon. I hope your skills have improved since we last met."

"They
have," said Lannon. He sighed. "Why have you come back? You should
have stayed in the realm of the Deep Shadow where you belong."

"Unfinished
business," said Vorden. "I've returned to kill you."

"And
take a few hostages, too," said Lannon, "which is kind of cowardly
for someone who thinks he's such a great warrior."

Vorden
laughed. "You, of all people, question
my
courage? I'm not
interested in these hostages at all. That was just to get your attention. Now
that Dremlock has agreed to an honorable duel, I no longer need them."

"Then
let them go," said Lannon, who noticed that two of the Knights appeared to
be seriously wounded.

"The
hostages are released," said Vorden, with a dismissive wave. "But the
duel will proceed." The Legion Soldiers sheathed their weapons and stepped
away from the hostages. All that mattered now was the duel.

While
the Knights tended to the former hostages, Lannon and Vorden stared each other
down. Vorden seemed relaxed and amused, without a hint of doubt in his eyes.
Lannon knew one thing for sure--Vorden was certain he would win.