

Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar

### by Robert E. Keller

### Book 1 of the Ollanhar Series

Smart Goblin Publishing 2014

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

Smashwords Edition

Original and exclusive cover art by Carolina Mylius

Copyright © 2014 Robert E. Keller

Content Notice:

A complete 106,000 word fantasy novel.

About the Author:

Robert E. Keller is a fantasy writer who has had more than 30 stories published in online and print magazines, and he is the author of several epic fantasy novels. You can find more information on his projects at www.robertekeller.net

### Table of Contents:

Chapter 1: The Rider Whose Soul was Iron

Chapter 2: The Battle Beneath the False Moon

Chapter 3: The Council and the Secret Plans

Chapter 4: The Tower of Riddles and Dread

Chapter 5: The Lawkeeper and His Bitter Tongue

Chapter 6: The Festival of Souls

Chapter 7: The Departure without Glory

Chapter 8: The Joust for the Pale Hammer

Chapter 9: The Ancient Horrors of the Soddurn Mountains

Chapter 10: The Fiend in the Moat

Chapter 11: The Celebration that was Ill Fated

Chapter 12: The Trail of Darkness and Deception

Chapter 13: The Shield Master from Silvergate

Chapter 14: The Golden Truth

Chapter 15: The Gauntlet of Axes

Chapter 16: The Lair of Hatred, Flame, and Iron

Chapter 17: The Defenders of Ollanhar

Chapter 18: The Cursed Warrior

Chapter 19: The Decision of Jerret Dragonsbane

Chapter 20: The Banners of Ollanhar

Chapter 1:

### The Rider Whose Soul was Iron

The drums of war were sounding.

Lannon Sunshield gazed down from a window of Ollanhar Tower, watching the shadowy figures gathered near the oak trees that surrounded the clearing. A small army met his gaze--Wolves, Jackals, Ogres, and Trolls. This was the second time the Goblins had gathered near his tower. On the previous occasion they hadn't attacked--preferring instead to simply stand there pounding their drums and looking fierce for a while before retreating--but he sensed their mood was different this time. They were anticipating bloodshed.

As Lannon looked into the gleaming eyes below, the familiar revulsion gripped him. It never ceased to trouble Lannon that such vile creatures could exist in the world. They seemed evil for the sake of evil--spiteful and bitter toward anything that lived, including each other. The Goblins didn't just seek to kill their enemies, but also to make them suffer in unimaginable ways. Fortunately, most Goblins were too big, too powerful, too dumb, or too clumsy to do anything but slay their foes quickly. The few intelligent ones, however, were feared throughout the land--the Goblin Lords who knew how to inflict the deepest misery upon humans.

The question again echoed through Lannon's mind: Why was he protecting a perilous, cursed tower that hadn't yet even shared its deepest secrets with him? This was a lair of evil, where the Deep Shadow infested the very stone walls around him. Progress had been wretchedly slow in cleansing the keep of that darkness. The tower seemed almost impenetrable, with frustrating snares and mysteries at every turn. Couldn't Dremlock Kingdom find a better fortress to occupy than this dreary abode? Still, this was his new home and he was expected to fight to the death to defend it. It was his duty to his kingdom and, more importantly, to the lump of crystal below that kingdom that Lannon referred to as his god. He was here by order of the Divine Essence, and retreat was not an option.

For a moment Lannon looked the part of a Divine Knight of Dremlock: a handsome blond-haired young man with a lean yet muscular frame. He wore silver, lightweight chain armor that was decorated with a black symbol of Ollanhar Tower on a green background--armor that looked fit for royalty. His expensive Dragon-bone sword hung from his belt, his hand resting on the hilt.

Then Lannon removed his armor--which was for decorative purposes only and a hindrance to him in battle--and concealed himself in his Birlote cloak, his face lost in shadows beneath the hood. He retreated into the darkness and solitude of his power and focus, into that place where all Dark Watchmen dwelt and where no one else could venture. There was no escaping who he was, for good or for ill.

A heavy hand settled on Lannon's shoulder, and he turned. Vorden Flameblade had approached him quietly--the only other figure who stood in the Dining Room. Vorden nodded. "I see we have a window here now."

"It was always here," said Lannon. "Just sealed with a piece of stone." He pointed at a smooth, rectangular stone block in the corner. "There are other windows in this chamber that are still sealed. In their decay, the Watchmen must have grown absurdly fearful that their meetings would be overheard." It troubled Lannon to think of the decay of his predecessors, and talking about it seemed to help ease his burdens. As the only Dark Watchman alive--with the others having died centuries before--Lannon was engaged in a lonely struggle to figure out who he was.

"A bit more of Ollanhar revealed," said Vorden. "This tower is a maddening puzzle, my friend. Will we ever have all the answers?"

Vorden wore his exquisite black and gold armor--minus the helm that he held in one hand--that had been crafted by Blood Legion blacksmiths using secret methods unknown to anyone outside their order. Hanging from his belt was a simple, heavy broadsword. The large, muscular Knight from Gravendar always possessed a sullen expression. His black hair and beard were neatly trimmed, but his yellow eyes were wild and savage, betraying a side to his personality he was ashamed of and strove hard to conceal. Vorden was locked in a constant struggle against the Deep Shadow that had turned him into a raging demon and the leader of the Blood Legion. His soul was now free of that evil, but the price of his freedom was endless hardship.

Lannon gazed down at the crowd of drooling, restless Goblins. "I fear we will have bloodshed this time."

Vorden shrugged. "It is inevitable." He drew his broadsword and scowled. "This blade seems so fragile and dull, and does not channel my sorcery properly. How I wish I had my spider blade!" The sword Vorden spoke of, which he had found in the dreary mining tunnels below Dremlock, had been exquisite (and so-named because of a spider-shaped rune on the hilt).

Lannon nodded. "I understand. I wish I had my throwing star." King Verlamer had stolen a number of precious items when he retreated from Dremlock Kingdom after Lannon had defeated him in an epic duel. Some had been recovered, but many remained in possession of the tyrant king. The Glaetherin throwing star--made of nearly indestructible metal in its purest form--was a likely irreplaceable loss. Lannon was lucky to still have his Dragon sword, which was made from the bones of a powerful and rare type of winged Goblin.

Vorden pointed upward. "What about the weapons in this keep? In that safe up there, just waiting for us to wield? Mighty weapons, like my spider sword--ours for the taking." His eyes were distant, as if he were speaking to himself. Then he sighed, as if he already knew Lannon's answer.

Lannon turned back to the window, weary of the topic. "Yes, but I still can't access them, and yes, I have been trying. I promise, my friend, that you will have one of those blades in the near future."

"It's a matter of focus, Lannon," said Vorden, his expression hardening and the familiar commanding tone creeping back into his voice. "There is no excuse for failure. You have the training and experience to solve that lock."

Lannon knew Vorden was right, but somehow the Glaetherin safe at the tower's peak resisted his best efforts--yet Vorden's constant nagging did nothing to help. Vorden was desperate for a quality sword to match his magnificent armor. He had recently appealed to Dremlock to forge him a Glaetherin broadsword like the one Jerret Dragonsbane possessed--even getting Lannon to speak on his behalf--but the High Council had refused without explanation, leading the Knights of Ollanhar to wonder if Dremlock was running low on supplies or was dealing with some other problem.

Of course, Glaetherin weapons were not given out easily, which made Jerret's gift all the more puzzling to the others. It seemed Jerret had been granted his blade all too easily, and some of Dremlock's Knights still harbored jealousy as a result. Vorden and Jerret were always in competition with each other, and Lannon suspected the sword issue gnawed deeply at Vorden.

With a howl, one of the Trolls hurled a large bucket of decaying animal remains onto the tower grounds, spilling stinking filth out everywhere. The other Goblins leapt about and hissed with delight. Lannon's muscles tensed in anger, but he calmed himself, refusing to lose focus. They wanted to make him angry and reckless, to drive him to attack, and he had no plans to play their little game. He was a Dark Watchman and supposed to be in control of his mind and emotions--relying on skill and precision to win his battles rather than a barbarian's rage.

But Vorden was not so easily able to hold back. He drove his fist against the stone wall, his yellow eyes smoldering with disgust. "How dare they foul the tower grounds? They will soon lay bleeding in that filth!" The aura of the Deep Shadow grew strong around Vorden--a feeling of darkness and despair, of coldness, that chilled Lannon's soul. Vorden started to turn, but Lannon seized his arm.

"No, my friend. This is not the time." Lannon gripped him firmly--a grip of warning that showed Lannon was giving Vorden a direct order--as Vorden struggled with his dark emotions.

Reluctantly, Vorden nodded. "Not yet, but soon."

"This is what King Verlamer wants," said Lannon. "To enrage us, so we behave foolishly and do something we'll regret."

Vorden nodded. "Yet if we don't respond aggressively, he will continue to bully us. Verlamer must still be bitter over that embarrassing defeat to you, Lannon. He certainly doesn't handle defeat graciously."

"It's more than that," said Lannon. "It's all about the expansion of Dremlock, and Bellis' fear that our kingdom will grow. If Verlamer can stop us here, at Ollanhar, and persuade us to abandon this tower, Dremlock will no longer be a significant threat to him. He will make every effort to intimidate us--to make us weary of the struggle. This is only the beginning."

Lannon gripped the window ledge, determined to never surrender Ollanhar--to his last breath if it came to that. They had to take a stand against Verlamer's tyranny here and now. The Mad King of Bellis had already claimed most of the continent, and with the Birlotes and Olrogs choosing to avoid war, only Dremlock remained to oppose him. The importance of holding this tower was a crushing burden on Lannon's shoulders day and night, mingling with the dreary darkness of the keep and striving to sap his will and strength. But he stood firm like a Divine Knight was supposed to, living a life of sacrifice where his own needs were put last.

Vorden stood next to Lannon, gazing out the window. Lannon wondered what was going on in his mind. Vorden was dark and strange--a brilliant thinker in many ways, but constantly suffering from the shadows of his past. As always, Vorden was unpredictable, and Lannon found that disturbing. The further Lannon delved into his role as a Dark Watchman, the more he wanted to cling to the safe and familiar--and in many ways Vorden was neither of those things. The former leader of the Blood Legion was fearless when it came to death or destiny, willing to make any move, regardless of the risks, that would give an advantage. Vorden possessed a noble heart, but it was as wild as the wind.

A pair of white-cloaked arms wrapped around Lannon, and a chin rested against his shoulder. It was Dallsa, a plump girl near his own age--barely an adult--who was in training to be a White Knight. Though it was against Knightly rules, Dallsa had no problem showing her deep affection for Lannon. She was constantly hugging him and leaning on him, which he found to be a bit annoying. Lannon was lawful to the core and didn't approve of the physical contact, even though he knew it was merely her way of expressing simple friendship toward him (or so he assumed). But Lannon was fond of Dallsa and was impressed with her skills as a healer. He found her to be highly intelligent and enjoyed her company.

"Greetings," said Lannon, turning so he could free himself from her grasp. "So what is the situation?"

She smiled at him and brushed a lock of black hair from her eyes. She had a pretty face with kind eyes to match a pleasant personality, but lying just beneath her warm demeanor was a hint of the stubbornness that could quickly overwhelm her and make her difficult to deal with.

Dallsa was Lannon's official messenger, and very reliable in that role. She had an outstanding memory and was relentless in her duties. However, she had been neglecting her warrior training. She had come to hate her physical training and complained about it constantly, but her skills as a Healer had improved rapidly--a sign of her immense talent.

"Aldreya has taken position outside," Dallsa answered. "She wants you and Vorden to join her immediately."

"I thought we were going to wait and see," said Lannon.

Dallsa shrugged. "She grew tired of waiting and seeing, and now she's confronting. I don't like it, either." She shuddered. "I'm terrified."

"Calm yourself, Dallsa," said Lannon. "This tower is not in any danger." He wasn't so sure of that, but he wanted to soothe her mind.

She seized his arm in a death grip. "But what if the tower falls? What will happen to us? The Goblins will likely tear us to pieces!"

"We'll be fine," Lannon assured her.

"I like this move," said Vorden. "We need to stop letting them bully us and start striking back. We need to send them a message."

Lannon pulled his arm from her grasp. "Stay here, away from the window. We'll summon you if we need you."

Dallsa looked displeased, but nodded. She was still a Squire, and being poorly trained for battle, there was no reason for her to go outside. "Be careful, Lannon. I don't want to lose you!"

"I'll be fine," said Lannon. Yet combat was likely to be brutal down there, and anything could happen. So he added, "But if things turn out differently than I expect, go to the hiding place I showed you. There is enough food and drink in there to last for weeks."

She nodded. "I will pray to the Divine Essence to guide you, Lannon."

With that, Lannon and Vorden went below.

***

It was a warm summer afternoon--a day that should have been pleasant--with blue sky overhead in which an Elder Hawk circled. But the day was made ugly by the army of snarling Goblins at the clearing's edge and their towering catapults. The oak grove that surrounded the field in which Ollanhar Tower stood seemed threatened, for the monsters wouldn't hesitate to hack or burn trees that were centuries old. They would lay waste to the mossy clearing as well with its lone, majestic apple tree, leaving only smoking, bloodstained earth.

Aldreya Silverhawk, the recently appointed Green Knight of Ollanhar, waited outside with a number of Dremlock's Blue Knights who stood in battle formation with drawn short swords and daggers. Also present were members of the Council of Ollanhar--Jerret Dragonsbane, Bekka Nightspear, Galvia Blazehammer, and Prince Vannas of Borenthia.

"I thought we were going to wait inside," said Lannon, as he approached, "like we did last time. Or are we looking to provoke a battle?"

Aldreya pointed at the pair of siege engines flanked by Ogres. "Those catapults changed my mind. We can't just hide in the tower and wait to be pummeled." Aldreya wore a green, hooded cloak--though the hood was thrown back, revealing her Birlote features--curly silver hair, pointed ears, shining green eyes, and skin was copper in hue. The young tree dweller's demeanor left no doubt that she was a member of the Royal Family of Borenthia and in command of Ollanhar.

"The siege engines are poorly defended," said Prince Vannas, who was Aldreya's cousin and the highest ranking member of the Birlote Royal Family present. Like Aldreya, he possessed silver hair and green eyes--a lean yet muscular young man with a slender sword at his hip. He wore green-and-gold clothing of Birlote silk. In one hand he held the black pouch that contained the legendary White Flamestone--the ultimate weapon against the servants of the Deep Shadow--and he was always eager to make use of its pale fire.

"We must not attack until they show aggression," said Aldreya. "The Sacred Laws demand it."

"But they're just filthy Goblins," said Jerret Dragonsbane, who stood with his mighty Glaetherin broadsword gleaming in the sunlight. "Why should we show them honor? They've already fouled our grounds with their bucket of swill." His eyes smoldered with anger. "If that's not a call to bloodshed, what is?" Jerret was a young man with curly blond hair and an arrogant look on his face. He wore the stout breastplate of an elite Red Knight and carried no shield, using his broadsword for defense. He was the most muscular of Ollanhar's warriors. He made no effort to hide the fact that he lived for combat and bloodshed.

Aldreya pointed to a rider in a black, hooded cloak who sat on horseback in the shadow of an enormous oak tree. This rider seemed to be leading the Goblin army, as the creatures swarmed around him protectively. He sat like death on his black steed, a bulky figure with a curved and gleaming battle axe held in two hands. He looked like an executioner ready to claim heads.

"As you can see, there is a human amongst them," she said. "Therefore, we are bound by the Sacred Laws not to attack."

Jerret smirked. "How do you know it's a human under that cloak? Could be a Goblin Lord, or some demon of Tharnin."

Aldreya gazed at him sternly. "I'm making an assumption. I'm allowed to do that now and then, aren't I?"

Lannon summoned the Eye of Divinity--the rare and divine power that gave him the ability to glimpse hidden and even guarded knowledge. His consciousness split, until he became like two separate beings, and then from the space that existed between his divided selves emerged the force of the Eye, reaching out to probe the figure on horseback. But all Lannon could glimpse was a male human presence shielded by shifting shadows, indicating that the rider was a very powerful foe who could conceal himself with dark sorcery.

Lannon's hand locked around the hilt of his Dragon-bone sword. "He's a sorcerer of some kind, probably sent by Bellis or the Blood Legion."

"Is he skilled?" asked Aldreya, without turning.

"As dangerous as they come." Lannon could sense that Aldreya was eager to test her skills. "You're not ready to deal with this foe."

"Never said I was." She sounded a bit irritated. Aldreya was the apprentice of the famed Birlote sorcerer and current Lord Knight of Dremlock known as Taris Warhawk, and she had developed skills few magic users would ever unlock. But whoever lurked beneath that black cloak had a will of iron--the rare ability to resist the mighty Eye of Divinity--and even Aldreya was no match for him.

"I'll deal with the rider," said Prince Vannas. The lean Tree Dweller glanced at Aldreya for confirmation. "If you approve, of course."

"I do not," said Aldreya. "You have the siege engines to deal with, and the Trolls and Ogres too. Lannon and I will confront the leader. Surely the two of us will be more than he can handle."

"One would think," said Lannon, but he wasn't sure. The ability to resist the Eye always unnerved him.

"We're outnumbered," said Bekka Nightspear, shielding her eyes from the sun as she gazed at the Goblin army. The tall, muscular, dark-skinned warrior was in charge of the Blue Knights, and she had become a close friend to Aldreya. "We've got thirty warriors against...at least a hundred Goblins."

"And these are not just any Goblins," Lannon pointed out. He could see the strange shadows that clung to the monsters. These were the mysterious Dark Goblins (as they had come to be named) that were stronger, faster, and smarter than the typical ones. They were also more resistant to injury.

The dark rider moved out from beneath the oak tree--until he sat alone with the Goblin army behind him.

"I think we wants to talk," said Lannon.

Aldreya didn't answer. She waited for a few moments, and when the rider made no further move, she said, "Well, let's go see what he wants, Lannon. It's better than standing around all day staring each other down."

Jerret started forward. "I'll go as well."

But Aldreya waved him back. "No, just Lannon and I, no weapons drawn."

"What if you're attacked?" asked Jerret.

She ignored him, and Lannon accompanied her across the clearing. The bed of moss was soft beneath Lannon's boots, and a pleasant breeze touched his face. He adjusted the hood of his cloak, allowing it to partially conceal his face. There was power in secrecy. Stealth was the way of a Blue Knight and a Dark Watchman. The shadows of concealment were a welcome embrace, leaving Lannon detached from the bright, noisy, and exposed world--allowing him to deal with his troubles without being totally immersed in them. His way of stealth left his foes confused and fearful of the unknown.

But the rider showed only confidence as they approached. Though his face was lost in darkness beneath his hood (except for his black beard), the way he sat so relaxed in the saddle--with his Goblins apart from him--indicated that he didn't consider Lannon and Aldreya much of a threat. He was a giant--well over six feet in height with broad shoulders. His cloak was adorned with small black chains as if it were used as armor. His hands were concealed by black gloves. In fact, no part of his flesh was visible, but Lannon could sense flesh and blood beneath the cloth and metal. A strange, ancient smell hung about him, like old books or passageways--as if he had been locked away from fresh air for quite sometime. His black horse was a mighty Goblin steed with yellow eyes, a muscular beast with a spiked tail, armor plating covering parts of its fur, and hoofs that could pierce a stout breastplate.

"So here we are," said Aldreya, standing before him. She looked small in comparison to the huge horse and rider. His battle axe looked like it could crush her into the earth. "What do you want?"

"For you to leave Ollanhar," said the rider, his voice low and almost inhuman. "I want you to return to Dremlock where you belong."

Anger arose within Lannon. "Bellis has sent you to harass and intimidate us, though of course King Verlamer will admit to nothing."

The rider nodded. "No point in denying it, with just the two of you to hear. One way or another, Bellis will crush this attempt at expansion. King Verlamer will see to it. Dremlock must keep to itself and stay out of the affairs of the land."

"Or what?" asked Aldreya.

The rider laughed. "Or there will be a forest of bodies on spikes for all to see. A few towns burned to ash--after we've had some fun with the townsfolk. A lot of dead Knights left for the Vultures. Understand?"

"We understand." Lannon's hand tightened around his sword hilt. "Now that you've delivered your message, you can leave."

"I need an answer first," said the rider. "Are you going to pack up and leave Ollanhar immediately?"

"Never," said Aldreya. "Did you think we would?"

"Of course not," said the rider. "And that's why Dremlock put an unyielding Birlote in charge rather than the cowardly Bearer of the Eye--to make sure you fools would fight to the death to defend this worthless tower."

Lannon didn't respond. The rider was wrong about him, but better for him to think Lannon a coward and underestimate him.

"You don't recognize me, Lannon Sunshield," said the rider. "Doesn't my voice sound familiar to you?"

Instantly Lannon thought of Tenneth Bard--the legendary Black Knight who had terrorized Dremlock and nearly brought about its ruin. But Tenneth Bard seemed more phantom than living flesh, and last Lannon knew, the Black Knight had been trapped in a pit of Tharnin.

"I have no idea who you are," said Lannon. He instantly regretted the statement, for it revealed his inability to use the Eye on this foe.

"In time, you'll realize the truth," said the rider. "You may even realize it when your sword meets my axe--in the very near future."

"Enough of this useless talk," said Aldreya. "You are not welcome here." She pointed to the north. "Go now--back to the reeking marsh that spawned your army. And may the mud swallow you."

For a moment, the rider sat like a statue. Then his mighty axe rose and fell toward Aldreya. The move was so fast that even the quick Birlote girl had no time to respond.

But Lannon sensed the attack, and he froze the rider in the grasp of the Eye. Nevertheless, Lannon was almost too slow--as the axe stopped in its downward swing only inches from Aldreya's head. Had Lannon been a bit slower, Aldreya might have been split in two before she realized she had been struck.

Her eyes wide with shock over the speed of the attack, Aldreya leapt away from the rider, stone dagger in hand.

The dark rider broke Lannon's hold. Up came the mighty axe once again, now backed by rage and sorcery.

Lannon drew his Dragon sword.

Bloodshed had begun.

***

Aldreya raised her stone dagger and green flames twisted around it like living serpents. She flung a blinding fireball into the air. The orb hung suspended for a moment, changing from green to white hot, forcing Lannon to shrink back and shield his face from the heat. Then the fireball shot through the air. Lannon braced himself for the explosion that would surely follow, wrapping the Eye of Divinity around himself protectively.

But the dark rider simply batted the fireball aside with his axe. The blazing orb flew across the clearing and struck an oak tree, blasting a hole in the trunk and throwing out a shower of sparks and burning wood fragments.

Aldreya gasped and lowered her dagger, appearing to falter for a moment. Her strongest fireball had just been swatted aside like a bug.

Lannon stood blinded for a moment from watching the fireball. When his vision cleared, bearing down on him was a legendary Bloodfang--a creature able to shred flesh from bone in an instant. The Goblin possessed crooked arms twice as long as a man's legs that tapered into claws. It was brown and slimy, with flesh that seemed to crawl with living things. Its rodent-shaped head quivered with rage, and its curved yellow fangs--as long as daggers--that hung from its wrinkled snout were bared for the kill. Folds of bony skin, like half-developed wings, beat furiously. It seemed to move blindly, with only leathery skin where eyes should have been, but it was alert to Lannon's position thanks to a bat-like ability to navigate.

The Bloodfang came at Lannon in a blur, and he was caught off guard. The beast's claws raked his shoulder, tearing through his cloak and drawing blood. He twisted away from the reeking beast, trying to bring up his sword for a strike, but the Bloodfang smashed the weapon from his hand. Lannon ducked a mass of bony claws, then sent the Eye of Divinity into his fist. He punched the beast in the chest, knocking it backwards. The blow might have killed a human, but the Bloodfang was barely dazed, pausing for a moment to catch its breath.

Lannon dove for his sword and seized it--just in time to deflect another clawed attack. Lannon gathered his power just enough to retaliate with a swift thrust--driving his blade deep into the beast's chest. The Bloodfang clawed at the sword and tried to get to Lannon. The beast was so full of rage and hatred that its own destruction meant nothing to it. All it cared about was tearing Lannon to pieces. It was a disgusting observation for the young Knight--that a creature could exist simply to destroy other creatures--and he was eager to finish it off.

Then a giant hand clamped onto the Bloodfang's head, and the beast was torn from Lannon's blade and flung aside as if it were made of straw. Standing before Lannon was a massive, shadowy Ogre wearing spiked armor and a spiked gauntlet on one fist. It wore a battered iron helm with two crude, misshapen eye holes. From the top of the helm protruded a plumb of Vulture feathers--ugliness on top of ugliness.

"Greetings," said Lannon, his eyes wide.

The Ogre had no desire to chat, driving its spike-covered fist down at Lannon. Lannon dodged the blow, annoyed by the distraction. It was the dark rider that concerned him, but these beasts were leaving him no chance of confronting that menace. Out of the corner of his eye--and as the Ogre charged him and he twisted aside--he saw Aldreya and the rider exchange fireballs that missed.

Inexplicably, the Ogre ripped off its iron helm and flung it at Lannon--perhaps to let Lannon look upon its face and perhaps because the helm weighed enough to deliver a crushing blow. Lannon swatted the helm aside with his blade, the impact jarring his arms. The Ogre's head was protected by stout, lumpy bone. A black rune of death was painted on its forehead.

A snarling, spotted Jackal leapt in to confront Lannon, getting in the Ogre's way. The giant didn't take kindly to that, and it smashed the Jackal in the head with its spiked fist, killing it instantly. An arrow from a Blue Knight glanced off the Ogre's thick skull. Another arrow found its neck, but it was a shallow wound in the tough, gnarled flesh and the arrow fell away. There was no blood to be seen. The Ogre roared in fury, promising the archers that they would be next once it dealt with Lannon.

Lannon reached into his cloak for his Glaetherin throwing star, then sighed as he realized it wasn't there. That weapon belonged to King Verlamer now. Instead, he summoned all the strength he could manage and flung his sword like a spear--burying it deep into the Ogre's forehead, straight through the painted death rune.

The giant gazed numbly at Lannon for a moment, blinking its eyes. It reached up to grab the sword as it took a step forward. Its long shadow fell over Lannon, and it glanced up at the blue sky, the sword hilt jutting forth, perhaps knowing its time in the world had run out. Then it toppled over.

Lannon drew the sword back to his hand even as the giant fell--just in time to defend against a pair of snarling Wolves that bounded over the Ogre's body. Weariness washed over him.

As Lannon fought the Wolves, Aldreya and the dark rider again hurled fireballs at each other. It was a colorful yet deadly exchange, and even the mighty Goblins stayed back in fear and awe. Aldreya was battling a master sorcerer, but her training under the legendary Taris Warhawk had prepared her well for such an encounter. She moved with just enough speed and agility to avoid the evil fire. Meanwhile, the rider continued to easily deflect her own attacks.

Suddenly, the dark rider wheeled his Goblin Horse around and rode off at a gallop. Aldreya gave chase, but immediately a wall of Goblins closed in front of her and the rider was lost from view.

Then the two armies clashed. Teeth and claws tore at flesh and armor, and burning Knightly blades hacked into smoking Goblin hide. No one on the battlefield doubted it would be a fight to the death, as the Goblins were fearless and driven by relentless hatred.

The dark rider had fled, and no order of retreat would be given.

Frantically, the Goblins tried to activate the towering catapults, as Blue Knights fired arrows at them. Odd, smoking, lumpy iron balls were loaded into the catapults, as Goblins pulled furiously on ropes atop the wooden platforms. But the Blue Knights shot the Goblins off the platform and left the ropes to dangle.

Lannon was like a fleeting shadow in his dark cloak, darting about on the battlefield and leaving dead monsters wherever he roamed. He channeled the Eye into his blade, turning the bone sword into both weapon and shield--striking his enemies like a battering ram one moment to push them away and then delivering a flurry of lethal cuts the next. Nevertheless, the Goblins continued to swarm at him, determined to slay the Bearer of the Eye. Fortunately, Aldreya came to Lannon's aid, burning to ash some of the Goblins that were charging him.

Prince Vannas, flanked by three Blue Knights, readied the White Flamestone. His gaze was locked onto the catapults, as the Blue Knights who guarded him cut down any Goblins that got close. As Vannas held forth the gem, which was blazing with light, a flurry of stones shot in his direction, disrupting his focus. The fire in the gem died down.

Three Goblin Lords had emerged unseen from the forest, slings in hand. These intelligent, humanoid creatures--Priests of Tharnin--were the most dangerous Goblins of all, possessing powerful combat skills and sorcery. They launched another volley of stones at the prince.

Vannas dodged some of the stones, and the Blue Knights deflected some with their blades--but one lucky shot made it through and struck the prince in the head. Vannas toppled to the ground, dazed, the White Flamestone rolling from his hand. The Goblin army howled with delight at the sight of the fallen prince, and the beasts fought with renewed vigor.

One of the Blue Knights seized the Flamestone, but he lacked the ability to use it and so he simply tucked it away. They shot arrows at the Goblin Lords, who quickly retreated back into the trees.

The Knights tried to revive the prince, but he was lost to the battle.

With Vannas unable to attack the catapults, Jerret fought his way over to one and climbed up onto the platform, cutting down two Goblins who had once again gotten to the ropes. One of them--a vicious Jackal--tried to rise, but Jerret stabbed it through the heart and then kicked the body off the platform. Jerret raised his broadsword and challenged the Goblins to remove him from his perch. Some of them gleefully answered the challenge from the arrogant Red Knight--including a Wolf that leapt high into air in an effort to knock him to the ground--but he cut them all down, his broadsword smoldering with crimson flames.

"For Thrake Wolfaxe!" Jerret bellowed, hacking another Wolf out of the air. In a berserk fury, he hacked at the catapult and tore away chunks of burning wood, finally regaining his senses and cutting at the ropes.

Moments later, Galvia fought her way up to Jerret's side, her hammer red hot with sorcery. The two stood back to back, as Goblins clawed their way up onto the platform and surrounded them. Jerret's strength and attitude had drawn their attention, and they were determined to tear him down. The two Knights fought fiercely, bodies piling up around them, but they were vastly outnumbered.

Lannon quickly fought his way to the platform and vaulted up onto it. He pushed into the circle of Goblins that surrounded Galvia and Jerret and cut down several of the beasts. Soon the three Knights had cleared the platform again, and they went to work on severing the ropes, rendering the mighty siege engine useless.

Bekka and the Blue Knights took the other catapult, clearing the platform momentarily before the Goblins closed in again. Bekka lifted a Jackal over her head and flung it into two other Goblins with shattering force--sending all three toppling from the platform. She then whirled around and skewered a huge Wolf that was trying to sneak up behind her on two legs, driving her burning Flayer through its heart. She kicked the dying beast off the platform.

Soon the battle was over. Four Blue Knights lay dead and several more had serious injuries. The ancient trees had been spared significant damage, but the tower grounds were soiled in Goblin corpses that would require a great deal of time and effort to deal with.

There was no sign of the dark rider.

### Chapter 2:

The Battle Beneath the False Moon

Disposing of an army of dead Goblins was a terrible way to spend an afternoon. Fortunately for Prince Vannas, he was still dazed from the rock striking his head (or so it appeared), and he was allowed to sleep while everyone else did the work. The dead beasts were hauled by wagons to a suitable location and burned, leaving smelly smoke to drift over the land. Once the cleanup effort was complete, a funeral was held for the dead Knights and then their bodies were sent off to Dremlock Kingdom for burial. It was all very somber and exhausting.

Lannon couldn't deny that Bellis had accomplished its goal. He was left feeling weary, wondering yet again if Ollanhar Tower was worth defending. Aldreya never seemed to waver, but it was difficult to tell what she was really thinking. The newly appointed Green Knight of Ollanhar was an unyielding Birlote who would hide her true feelings and adhere to honor and duty at all costs. And while Lannon had no intention of surrendering, he was fearful of how far Bellis would go in trying to force them from the tower.

He feared for his companions, who were isolated from the protection of Dremlock's army and expected to deal with overwhelming odds. A few days before, Aldreya and Vorden had been attacked by poison arrows from a hidden foe as they walked a forest trail. Vorden had been struck, but his unnatural healing ability had allowed him to survive. The assassin had not been caught, and Lannon was certain he would strike again.

With all the hard work finished for the day, Lannon wandered from the mossy clearing alone and into the oak forest. He paused to glance back at the tower, which was framed against a sky that was streaked red by the late afternoon sun. Dallsa was preparing a late dinner, but Lannon wasn't hungry. He was restless, longing to wander alone with his thoughts.

Ollanhar was shadowy and bulky, filled with sinister sorcery and secrets left from the time of the Dark Watchmen. Lannon was now the master of that tower--the High Watchman of Ollanhar\--and the ancient spirits that dwelt beneath the keep recognized his authority. But Dremlock did not. By the will of the Divine Kingdom, Aldreya was in charge of this outpost and Lannon was to obey her commands. It was an odd arrangement--the Green Knight ruling over the High Watchman. In fact, Ollanhar had never had a Green Knight before. The position had been created so that Lannon would have to answer to Aldreya. He usually didn't mind her being in command, but lately she had grown more rigid and demanding, and he found himself disagreeing with many of her decisions.

Lannon walked the wooded trail between the massive oaks, the shadows deep around him and the animal life quiet. A chill had crept into the air. As he rounded a curve, he encountered a dark figure standing in the trail. Lannon's hand clamped around his sword hilt, but the Eye of Divinity revealed this to be one of the Blue Knights who patrolled the outskirts of the tower grounds.

His name was Merrick Nightborn, a lean Tree Dweller who possessed Ranger skills. "Greetings, Master Lannon," he said, bowing.

Lannon nodded in return. It still felt strange to be called Master, especially by a Knight who was a few years older than Lannon.

Merrick was concealed beneath dark blue clothes and armor, with only his face exposed, and he easily blended with the shadows. "I sense something dangerous lurking about, though I've not glimpsed it. It could be a Goblin, or another assassin. I would advise staying out of the woods except in daylight."

"I'm on my way to check on the town," said Lannon, referring to a shop and an inn recently built in the hill country beyond the oak grove.

"It's doing fine," said Merrick. "The Goblins never bothered it. I guess they were too busy focusing on the tower."

Lannon already knew this, but he felt like visiting the town anyway. He was too restless to return to Ollanhar. "Very well, but I'm going there anyway to have a drink. Thank you for the warning."

"Perhaps I should accompany you, Master Lannon," said Merrick. "As I said, I sense danger lurking about."

"I can look after myself," said Lannon.

"Of course," said Merrick. "But it is my duty to guard your life, and in light of the recent assassination attempt on our Green Knight..."

"I understand," said Lannon, "but I will continue on alone." If some foe was creeping around, Lannon could find him with the Eye, and he didn't want any distractions. And the Blue Knights always seemed on edge, believing that assassins were lurking everywhere--though seldom did any turn up.

Merrick bowed. "Have a pleasant evening, Master Lannon." With that, the young Knight moved past him and continued down the trail.

Lannon sent forth the Eye of Divinity and scanned the forest for danger, but saw nothing except a common Tree Goblin watching from a lofty branch. The tiny Goblin was no threat to Lannon, and he moved on.

He came to Ollanhar Stable--a long wooden building nestled amongst the trees-- and paused by the door to listen, but all was quiet within. There was an armed guard on duty at all times who watched over the Greywind horses, and Lannon peered inside to find him sleeping in a chair, an ale jug in his lap. With a whistle, Lannon woke the guard--a bearded Red Knight who leapt out of his chair at the sight of the High Watchman--and warned him there could be danger in the woods. The embarrassed guard vowed to stay awake, and Lannon left.

Soon he emerged from the trees and into the grassy hill country. In a small valley between the hills nearby stood the shop and the inn. There were also three other stone and wood foundations for buildings that had yet to be completed. This town, which was named Tower Haven, was protected by forty of Dremlock's Knights--led by the Grey Dwarf known as Daledus Oakfist--who were ordered to remain there at all costs. Their tents stood amongst the buildings.

As Lannon approached the town, evening was settling quickly about the land. Some of the Knights on guard duty greeted him as he walked between the tents. Sounds of merrymaking came from the Inn--including a roar that surely had to come from the throat of Daledus Oakfist. Lannon smiled.

The Greenhill Inn was nearly complete, with only a few rough spots here and there that needed attention. It was a two-story building with a large tavern on the first floor and rooms for rent on the second. The tavern was lit by firelight and lanterns. As Lannon passed between the oak tables, the Divine Knights greeted him warmly, raising mugs of ale.

Daledus stood at the bar talking to the Dwarven innkeeper--involved so deeply in a loud and animated conversation that he failed to hear the others greet Lannon. Amused, Lannon approached quietly and pinched his shoulder.

Daledus slammed his ale mug down and whirled around, scowling, eager for a fight. Then his expression softened. "Master Lannon," he bellowed. "Welcome to my inn."

Lannon chuckled. "So you've claimed the inn as your own. Or maybe just the tavern and its ale barrels? Why am I not surprised?"

Daledus grinned. "That's right--I lay claim to it unless any man can trade punches with me and stay standing." He raised his meaty fist to Lannon's chin.

Lannon seized the fist and lowered it. "I'm not here to spar, Daledus. I had enough of that with King Verlamer. The inn is yours, my friend. I came here simply for a drink and to get away from that tower."

Daledus nodded, looking grim. "I don't blame you one bit, Lannon. I couldn't spend an hour in that cursed place." He turned to the innkeeper. "Our best ale for the High Watchman. He fought well today, so I hear." Some of the other Knights cheered in agreement.

"Just milk," Lannon said quickly, his mind flashing back to his father. The old man had consumed ale all day long, as empty jugs piled up around his bony legs. Because of that dreary memory--and others like it from his unhappy childhood--Lannon typically refused to drink any liquor.

"Milk it is," muttered the innkeeper, pouring Lannon a large mug of it. "Nice and fresh, brought in this morning--good and cold from the ice box."

"But it's not ale," said Daledus, with a look of contempt.

The innkeeper shrugged. "The High Watchman gets what he asks for."

Daledus Oakfist was a powerful Grey Dwarf. He typically wore heavy armor and carried an oversized--almost absurd--battle axe, but on this night he wore only a green tunic and brown trousers. He had bushy sideburns, and a bushy beard, that he took great pride in. Like all Grey Dwarves, his hair and thick beard were naturally dark and his eyebrows drooping. He had a large nose that did not bleed easily in a fight and a jaw that seemed impervious to being broken.

The milk was indeed cold and fresh. Lannon savored it in silence for a moment, but Daledus was never one to keep still for long.

"Heard the leader escaped," he said. "Is that true?"

"The man on horseback?" asked Lannon, thinking back to the dark rider who had nearly killed Aldreya with his axe. "Yes, he retreated and vanished."

"What a shame," said Daledus. "I hope he comes to my little town, so I can put an end to him. One who consorts with Goblins deserves to die."

"He is a powerful foe," said Lannon. "And I'm fairly certain he will return at some point. I believe Bellis has appointed him the leader in the war against Ollanhar. Whoever he is, he intends to drive us from the tower."

Daledus smirked. "I also heard Aldreya is now the Green Knight over there. It seems Dremlock changed its mind about you being in charge--once Cordus Landsaver retired, that is. With Taris as the Lord Knight of Dremlock, I guess it was inevitable that a Birlote would be in charge of Ollanhar."

There was no Knight that Lannon respected more than Taris Warhawk, and he felt compelled to defend his character. "I'm sure Taris had a good reason for making Aldreya the leader."

"Sure," Daledus said quietly. "It's Birlote politics. Always before it was the High Watchman who was in charge of Ollanhar. Everyone knows that. But Taris has to appease the Birlotes of Borenthia if Dremlock wants them to remain friendly. Come on now, Lannon. You know it's true."

Lannon shrugged. Daledus was probably correct, but Taris was a sorcerer of unsurpassed wisdom and Lannon was not about to question his decisions. "I'm fine with things as they are."

"Of course you are," said Daledus. "Because you're a nice fellow willing to take it on the chin to keep everyone happy. You should speak up now and then, though. Stand up for yourself."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled.

"By the way," said Daledus, "I hunger for adventure. I miss being part of the Divine Shield and roaming the land. If anything comes up, let someone else defend this town. I want to go with you."

"Of course," said Lannon. "I'd be happy to have you at my side, my friend. You're one of the strongest warriors I've ever known."

Daledus nodded. "Good," he muttered in a low voice, "because the men in here have had about enough of me. Bunch of thin-skinned Noracks, always offended over everything. An opinionated Dwarf is too much for these weaklings to handle. You Noracks are a strange lot. Won't take advice unless you ask for it. Always worried about someone's tone of voice or expression, or even worse--their politeness!" He slammed his fist down on the bar. "I tell you, Lannon, it makes me want to punch a man straight in the jaw for whining about this or that. But better to have a drink so as not to leave a grown man crying from a broken nose and shame himself..." He guzzled some ale, losing some of it down his beard.

Lannon took a quick sip of milk.

"So when do we depart?" Daledus asked.

Lannon shrugged. "Unfortunately, right now I think we're stuck at Ollanhar. Things aren't like they used to be."

"You never know," said Daledus. "A new day could bring anything."

Lannon didn't respond, preferring to enjoy his milk in silence. He too found himself longing for adventure, but he guessed that a new day would bring more of the same--defending Ollanhar from Bellis. Yet in the back of his mind he kept thinking of the dark rider and hearing the words: "You don't recognize me, Lannon Sunshield. Doesn't my voice sound familiar to you?"

***

When Lannon stepped from the inn, darkness shrouded the land and a lake of stars shone in the sky. Watch fires were blazing, and the Knights on guard duty held lanterns as they patrolled the grounds, but beyond the circle of light where the tents stood was only blackness. The little town was peaceful, and Lannon longed to stay awhile, but it was time to return to Ollanhar and all its troubles.

Lannon left the warmth and light behind and made his way into the darkness, allowing the Eye of Divinity to guide him. The Eye revealed more than any light source could, as Lannon strode through the grassy hills.

Soon the wall of ancient trees stood before him, the narrow trail becoming crisscrossed by gnarled roots as it vanished into the wooded depths. A wolf stood in the trail, sniffing the air, thinking that Lannon was unaware of its presence. But it was not spared from the gaze of the Eye. Suddenly sensing it was being watched, the wolf hurried off into the underbrush.

As Lannon navigated the winding trail, he began to sense the danger Merrick had spoken of. The Eye glimpsed traces of dark sorcery--an indication that something powerful and evil had passed that way. Lannon drew his sword, wondering if he should have taken Merrick's advice and avoided wandering the woods alone at night. Now that he could feel the presence of evil, he was made aware of his vulnerabilities. Some of the servants of Tharnin were immensely powerful--perhaps too powerful for this young Dark Watchman to deal with--and walking alone significantly improved his chances of being attacked. Like Prince Vannas and his White Flamestone, Lannon was a target of the Deep Shadow. And the Deep Shadow seemed to hate Lannon even more than it hated the prince--not only seeking Lannon's destruction but always hoping to make him suffer as well. Of course, Tharnin's ultimate goal was to turn Lannon into a slave, as it had done to his predecessors so long ago, and Lannon usually feared that fate far more than pain or death.

But on this night, beneath the sprawling trees, it was death that Lannon feared most, for it seemed like a very real possibility, as the Eye continued to glimpse traces of evil sorcery. Lannon sensed he was being stalked--that some grim confrontation was soon to take place--and he wasn't confident he was strong enough to survive. This human or beast was using the dark sorcery to hide from the Eye, scattering it along the trail like a fog of confusion, and this foe didn't care if Lannon knew of the ambush. Lannon could sense an arrogance so deep it was startling.

Something moved in the shadows next to the trail, and the Eye locked onto it--but it was only a black squirrel scurrying up a mossy oak. Lannon breathed a sigh of relief, but it was only temporary relief, as the foe was still stalking him. He turned this way and that, scanning with the Eye, but he glimpsed nothing but the fog of sorcery that swirled around him. Yet the feeling grew intense that his enemy was bearing down on him.

Then a deep, inhuman voice broke the still air: "Lannon! Look upon me!" A ball of yellow light suddenly sprang from the darkness and rose into the air, looking like a small version of the moon. It hovered above the trail, just below where the great branches closed together, and lit up the area beneath. Revealed in that light was the dark rider on the Goblin steed who had led the battle against Ollanhar. As before, his hooded cloak kept him concealed, and the Eye could not expose his secrets. He held his huge battle axe in one hand.

"You again," said Lannon, chills flooding over him. "What do you want?" Now that the rider had him alone, Lannon was certain there was going to be a fight to the death. He strove to steady his mind in preparation.

The rider sat in silence for a time, perhaps contemplating whether or not to simply attack. Then at last he said, "You did well in battle earlier, as I knew you would. I watched you from the shadows as you cut down my Goblins as if they were nothing. Your power has grown so rapidly since you first arrived at Dremlock Kingdom. You are now the most dangerous Knight of all, perhaps with the exception of Taris Warhawk. You have become a worthy opponent, Lannon, and I look forward to slaying you."

"Who are you?" asked Lannon. "Why don't you just show your face and get it over with? If we're going to fight, at least let me know who I'm fighting. Is that too much to ask?"

"No, it isn't," said the rider. He threw back his hood to reveal a grim, black-bearded face with fierce (insane) eyes that gleamed with a violate hue. "Well, do you recognize me? Look into my eyes and you will glimpse the truth."

"Tenneth Bard!" Lannon was barely aware he had spoken. He was chilled to the bone at the realization. The insane eyes told Lannon all he needed to know--this was Tenneth Bard, the ancient Black Knight and sworn enemy of Dremlock. His appearance had changed immensely, however, from the phantom-like mass of shifting shadows that had haunted Lannon during previous encounters. He now looked quite human, except for his gleaming eyes.

The rider nodded. "Yes, you do recognize me. I see it in your gaze. I have returned at last from the smothering embrace of the Deep Shadow. My humanity has been restored. It was a long and perilous struggle to achieve this--a struggle that you cannot even imagine--but it has been worth it. To ride the land once again...to smell the scent of tree and earth and taste the meat of a fresh kill..." He breathed deeply for a moment, shaking his head. "The wonders of life..."

Lannon found his voice again. "If you are indeed Tenneth Bard, then what do you want? My fight is with Bellis now."

"No!" Tenneth Bard snarled, clenching his hand into a fist. "Your fight is still with me!" His Goblin horse snorted in response, its yellow eyes burning with hatred for Lannon. "I came very close to destroying both you and Dremlock Kingdom. When my plans failed, I had to form an alliance with King Verlamer, a man I despise. But I have other goals that Verlamer is not aware of. I seek to make the Blood Legion mighty once again, and there is something else I desire--the Hand of Tharnin. I believe I am strong enough to control it. Once it is in my possession, I will no longer have to answer to Verlamer or anyone else. I will then take revenge on all those who have wronged me."

Lannon sighed. "Becoming human hasn't made you any wiser. No one can control the Hand of Tharnin. And to live for revenge is an empty life. Tenneth Bard or not, you are pathetic."

The rider smiled. "I'm pathetic. Is that so? Yet over the centuries, I've simply grown more powerful. Kingdoms rise and fall, but I have benefited immensely from everything I do. I enjoy my life far more than you could imagine. I have a noble purpose--to bring a new order to the land. I have happiness and a purpose. What more could one ask for? What do you have?"

Lannon considered the question, then replied, "I have a purpose too--ridding the land of the Deep Shadow forever and creating peace."

"Very well," said Tenneth Bard. "But your purpose conflicts with mine. Therefore, you must die." He tossed aside his huge battle axe and swung down from his horse. He threw off his cloak. Underneath was magnificent black and silver armor, and a pair of curved swords hung from his belt. The Eye revealed that the armor and the swords were made of invincible Glaetherin.

He smiled at Lannon and then drew the swords, twirling them briefly in his hands. They flashed like lightning in the light of the yellow orb that still hung in the air above. This display of skill finished, he lowered his weapons, gazing at Lannon smugly. "Make your move, High Watchman."

Lannon could now sense the mighty skills that Tenneth Bard possessed. The Black Knight didn't fear anyone or anything. He regarded Lannon as drastically inferior. He fully expected Lannon to die there in the trail.

Tenneth Bard yawned. "So it has come to this. You once sent my shattered body hurtling from a cliff. Remember that? Where is that power now? You cannot access it. You're no longer filled with wild sorcery, but have learned to channel your power through your blade. You have grown more deadly in many ways, but you have lost your unpredictability. I feared you more as you used to be--when the Eye of Divinity was formless within you and ready to adapt to anything. Now you're just another swordsman, bound to live and die by your techniques."

"You've changed as well," said Lannon. "You're flesh and blood now--which means you can die." He wasn't sure if he spoke true, but he wanted to see how the Black Knight would react to his statement.

Tenneth Bard nodded. "Yes, I can die. I had to surrender my immortality to be free of Tharnin's chains. I'm as human as you are, Lannon. I chose freedom over slavery, even knowing it could mean the death of me. But don't think killing me will be easy. My sorcery is stronger than ever, and my skills with the blade go far beyond that of any Knight--as you will soon see for yourself."

Lannon was flooded with weariness. "So what is your plan? To rule everything like King Verlamer?" All of these tyrants just seemed to want power over others--the power to make people miserable.

Tenneth Bard smirked. "I'm not that petty, Lannon. I've never wanted to rule the world. I have a different goal. To keep my humanity, I have to do something in return for the Deep Shadow. I have to open the way for Tharnin so that it can lay claim to this land. That means destroying Ollanhar and Dremlock Kingdom and opening all of the portals, including the one below your tower."

Lannon nodded. "So you are still a slave of Tharnin with the same old goal. So much for your talk of freedom."

"You are wrong," said Tenneth Bard. "I no longer have to obey the laws of Tharnin. I just have to honor my bargain. Otherwise, I am free to roam and live as I choose--to restore the Blood Legion to prominence once again. I don't even hate you as much as I used to. At one time, I was nothing but a mass of squirming hatred. I grew ever more enraged with every humiliating defeat. You and your friends wounded me deeply below Dremlock--a very painful wound that would have killed a lesser sorcerer, but I was unable to perish from it and instead suffered for weeks afterward. I watched my Great Dragon fall from the sky and burn in White Fire and my Blood Legion made nearly extinct."

"Dremlock stood firm against you," Lannon said, his voice filled with pride. "All of your evil schemes were ruined."

"Not all of them," said Tenneth Bard, looking amused. "I'm still here, and I still have plans. So as I was saying--I don't even hate you like I once did. You're simply in my way and must be dealt with. Given time, the evil would take you anyway, Lannon. I'm about to spare you from that fate."

Lannon had no response. There was a chance Tenneth Bard was correct--that Lannon would fall to the charms of the Deep Shadow as his predecessors had. Some believed it was inevitable.

"You know I speak true," said Tenneth Bard. "When my blade pierces your heart, you will be free--and your reputation will be forever intact. You will be remembered as a good man who never surrendered to evil. Isn't that what you want? If you keep on living, you will destroy all you have worked to obtain. For you, Lannon Sunshield, death is the only answer. Trust me on this. I know all about freedom, now that I am truly free. Give yourself to my swords, painless and swift."

Lannon was struck hard by Tenneth Bard's words, but then he remembered that the Divine Essence had chosen him for this role. Lannon's god--the god that dwelt below Dremlock--wanted him to live. It believed in him, and he could not take the easy way out. Honor and duty demanded that he fight on to his last breath. It was a grave risk to himself and everyone else, but the only noble thing to do was stay alive and hope he somehow could stand against the darkness that sought to consume him. And it was simply not Lannon's way to admit defeat.

"Your words are filled with sorcery," said Lannon, raising his blade, "that tricks the mind and will. But you cannot influence me so easily. If you want to kill me, you'll have to get past my sword."

Tenneth Bard shook his head in disbelief. "I should have known. You're as stubborn as a Birlote, Lannon. You've baffled me since the first day I met you. You're very frustrating to deal with, and I can't wait to see you dead."

"Here I stand," said Lannon, focusing the Eye into his blade. "Do what you must." At least if Tenneth Bard prevailed, Lannon would die with honor. He didn't want to die, but he could accept that fate.

Tenneth Bard shrugged. "We will do this the hard way, then." He leapt forward gracefully, his blades flashing toward Lannon--moving with blinding speed. Tenneth Bard was like a whirlwind of razor-sharp metal slicing the air, and several of his sword strokes came perilously close to Lannon's flesh.

Lannon blocked several strokes, but defending against two swords was difficult. Tenneth Bard had an unfair advantage, and the Black Knight seemed just as fast as Lannon. But it wasn't the swordplay that Lannon feared most--it was Tenneth Bard's sorcery, which was still mostly unknown to Lannon.

After clashing for a few moments, they backed away from each other, panting. Lannon had never before faced such a swift and skilled swordsman. Lannon felt he was lucky to still be alive.

"I propose we make this a fair fight," said Tenneth Bard. "Just swords, no sorcery. In other words, no fireballs, no grabbing with unseen hands--just whatever we can do with our bodies and blades. Are you game?"

Lannon hesitated, not sure if he could win in a battle of swords. On the other hand, he wasn't sure he could win in a battle of sorcery, either. But he guessed that Tenneth Bard was just as uncertain. After all, the Eye of Divinity was very mysterious. Even Lannon didn't understand it half the time.

"I accept," Lannon finally said, deciding his chances were slightly better in a sword duel. Immediately after agreeing, he found himself doubting it had been a wise move. After all, Tenneth Bard had requested it for a reason, and the Black Knight was obviously extremely confident he could defeat Lannon at swordplay.

Their swords collided, and Tenneth Bard drove Lannon back, kicking his feet out from under him. With a cry of victory, the Black Knight tried to stab Lannon into the dirt, but Lannon rolled aside and the twin blades found only the trail. With a colossal effort, Lannon managed to rise from the ground, while blocking several attacks, and regain his balance.

They backed away from each other again and paused for breath. Again, Lannon realized how lucky he was to still be breathing. He knew he had to make a risky move soon, or he was going to die.

"Nearly had you, boy," Tenneth Bard muttered. "Next time you go down, you won't be getting up."

They clashed again, and this time Lannon flooded the Eye into his body in a move he knew might cost him everything. He sought to increase his raw speed at the expense of his skills, to become so swift that Tenneth Bard could only hope to defend Lannon's attacks while being unable to launch any of his own. The move worked surprisingly well, as Lannon's sudden swiftness caught the Black Knight off guard and put him squarely on the defense.

With the power of the Eye surging through him, Lannon drove Tenneth Bard backwards until the Black Knight was against a tree. Sensing victory, Lannon hacked furiously at his foe's exposed neck, leaving Tenneth Bard barely able to keep deflecting the blows. The Black Knight focused entirely on shielding himself with his blades, and he finally dropped to his knees, begging for mercy as Lannon continued to hammer at him.

Tenneth Bard's pleas fell on deaf ears for a moment--as Lannon was too focused on finishing him off to notice. Then Lannon paused, his sword poised for a downward stroke. "Do you surrender, then?"

Tenneth Bard bowed his head. "Yes, I surrender." He tossed his swords aside. "I am beaten, Dark Watchman."

Now what? Lannon thought. How was he supposed to take this mighty sorcerer a prisoner? This was the best chance he'd ever had to kill Tenneth Bard and end a great threat to himself and Dremlock Kingdom, and he was hesitating. He considered just slaying him, but he remembered that wasn't the way of a Divine Knight. "Turn around," Lannon commanded, "so I may bind your hands."

Tenneth Bard didn't move. He was smiling.

Enough of this, Lannon thought. Sacred Laws or not, this evil trickster was not going to snare Lannon. Lannon focused his energy into his blade, preparing to cut off the Black Knight's head and be done with him.

Then Lannon heard a hiss from behind him, and a horrible realization flooded his mind. The ball of light that had been hovering above the trail--the false and forgotten moon--was hurtling toward Lannon's back. Lannon tried to shield himself with the Eye, even as the energy orb struck his back and exploded, driving him against the tree with shattering force. The huge oak shook, and acorns fell.

Lannon was momentarily stunned, his sword hanging limply from his hand. He staggered away from the tree, his vision dark. Even the Eye seemed useless to him, detached. The Eye had shielded him mostly from the blast, but he was badly shaken. He fought furiously to shrug it off.

By the time Lannon regained his senses, Tenneth Bard was in front of him and holding one of his curved swords. Grinning, his violet eyes gleaming with delight, the Black Knight drove the sword at Lannon's heart. Lannon tried to twist out of the way, but the blade pierced his chest.

With a laugh of triumph, Tenneth Bard shoved Lannon to the ground. Yet Lannon grabbed the blade with the Eye and tore it from his chest and from Tenneth Bard's hand, flinging it aside. He then seized Tenneth Bard's heart with the Eye and squeezed it viciously.

Tenneth Bard backed away, clutching his chest, his skin going pale. The Black Knight fought back with his own sorcery, trying to break Lannon's hold. Lannon squeezed a bit more and then gave up to focus on himself. He couldn't crush Tenneth Bard's heart--which like the rest of his body was fortified by dark sorcery--but Lannon had clearly caught him off guard and weakened him.

Filled with horrific pain, Lannon nevertheless rose to his feet with sword in hand. With the Eye propping him up, he still had some fight left in him--but any movements could cause his wound to become a fatal one. Nevertheless, he couldn't simply lay there and wait for Tenneth Bard to finish him off.

Snarling, Tenneth Bard stumbled over to retrieve his swords, when an enormous shadow detached itself from the forest. A heavy hand smashed down on Tenneth Bard's skull, staggering the Black Knight.

Tenneth Bard clutched his head and groaned, then responded with a swift fist to the face of his attacker. The giant figure collapsed to the ground in a heap. Tenneth Bard gathered his swords, but the blow to the head seemed to have left him confused. He wandered about stupidly, and then at last climbed onto his horse and slumped into the saddle. He rode down the trail without looking back.

As Lannon watched the Black Knight ride off, he knew the fight was over for now. He lay down in the trail, gasping for breath and wracked by agony. He had never felt such pain before, and he thought he might be dying. The Eye of Divinity could not help him with this injury, and so he turned to his Knightly healing techniques to try to save himself.

Moments later, the huge figure rose from the ground and came toward him. In the gaze of the Eye, Lannon was delighted to see that it was Jace. The towering sorcerer seemed to be able to see in the dark.

Jace gazed down him with one eyebrow raised. "Pleasant night for walk, wouldn't you say?" He knelt and checked Lannon's wound. "Looks like he got your lung. Bad stuff, my young friend. Bad stuff indeed! Allow me to administer a bit of healing. My skills have improved lately, and should take away a bit of that annoying pain." He laid hands on Lannon's chest.

Annoying pain? It hurt so bad Lannon hoped he would pass out.

"Give me a few moments," said Jace, "and then I'll carry you back to Ollanhar. There is a nice stew on the table and some bread, though I'm guessing you won't feel like eating any this night. Who was that sorcerer, by the way?" When Lannon didn't answer, Jace went on, "Well, we can talk about that later. I will say that his face looked very familiar to me. Hmm..."

"Dallsa can help me," Lannon managed to croak.

"Yes, of course she can," said Jace, "being a healer and all. But right now you need a bit of what I have--some special healing sorcery just for you." He pulled one hand away from Lannon's chest and felt about his cloak. "Do you think I can carry you and smoke some pipe leaf at the same time?"

Lannon's only answer was a groan.

### Chapter 3:

The Council and the Secret Plans

Lannon did little but lay in bed for a couple of days in Ollanhar Tower and heal from his wound. He was recovering swiftly thanks to help from Dallsa--but only in the physical sense. Mentally his confidence had taken a blow.

He kept thinking of the battle in the woods, how Tenneth Bard had nearly killed him, and his chest ached from the memory of the cold blade that had pierced it. He was deeply troubled by the fact that he'd been caught off guard. He was supposed to be the High Watchman of Ollanhar, but he had behaved like a mere Squire, turning his back on an orb of energy that should have been an obvious threat. Once again Lannon felt like a fool undeserving of his status.

The wound itself was also troublesome--infected with the evil sorcery of the Deep Shadow. It could have been fatal based on that fact alone. But Jace had done something to remove most of the infection (as usual, the sorcerer refused to discuss his abilities, and so whatever he had done remained a mystery), and Dallsa was able to deal with the traces that remained. If not for those two, Lannon might have struggled for weeks or even months to recover. If fact, he probably would have been forced to visit Dremlock's Hall of Healing. Tenneth Bard's twin swords were devastating, and Lannon had no desire to encounter them again.

Lannon was alone in his bedchamber. The windowless room was lit by a single candle burning on a small table. He lay atop his blanket, shirtless, his chest wrapped in bandages. His Dragon sword lay next to him. The shadows hung thick about the room, and Lannon imagined insane, violet eyes gazing out at him from the dark. Tenneth Bard would strike again eventually, and if Lannon didn't find a way to advance his skills, the Black Knight would take his head. Tenneth Bard in the flesh seemed more fearsome than the phantom of days past--a real Knight bound to this world with vengeance burning in his heart.

If Jace hadn't come along, would Lannon have prevailed? It seemed unlikely. It seemed luck had saved Lannon, and luck was not what he wanted to rely on, for eventually it ran out.

Lannon groaned. So much for the High Watchman.

The chamber's oak door swung open and Lothrin Windbow entered. The Blue Knight and Birlote Ranger had been away at Dremlock on business. He closed the door and nodded to Lannon. "You're still alive, I see."

"Barely," Lannon mumbled.

In spite of being a member of the Birlote Royal Family, Lothrin wore simple Ranger clothes, which consisted of a green tunic, brown trousers, and soft leather boots. A long dagger with a bone handle hung from his belt, and a hunter's bow was slung across his back. His silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He was a handsome young Tree Dweller with a strange leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. He was also an exceptionally swift and deadly warrior, his skills often underestimated by his foes.

"You'll be up and about soon enough," said Lothrin. "You have more strength than you realize."

"How are things at Dremlock?" asked Lannon.

Lothrin hesitated, then replied, "There is a strange mood there--a grim mood. At first I assumed it had something to do with Bellis, but the High Council spoke of the Hand of Tharnin. They fear our enemies are searching for it."

"And with good reason," said Lannon.

"What do you mean?" asked Lothrin. "Does this have something to do with your battle in the forest?"

Lannon nodded. "We can talk about it later, though. I assume we're going to hold a meeting soon to discuss these issues."

"As soon as we possibly can," said Lothrin. "Furlus Goblincrusher and a small company of Knights are here as well. It seems Furlus will be guarding Ollanhar in your absence."

"In my absence?" said Lannon. "I expect to be at full health again fairly soon. And what about Aldreya, our Green Knight?"

Lothrin smiled. "You don't understand what I'm saying."

Lannon's heart sped up with excitement. "I see. So this means we're leaving Ollanhar on a mission. Daledus will be happy to hear about that. So where are we going?"

"I'm not sure yet," Lothrin replied. "Jace will know. The Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone must be dealt with soon. Yet at the same time, the tower must remain in our possession."

Lannon sat up, eager to start the meeting.

"Relax, my friend," said Lothrin, motioning for Lannon to lay back down. "We're not in that much of a hurry."

"I can attend the meeting," said Lannon, using his power to help him stand. He was sore and probably should have stayed in bed for a few more days, but he wanted to hear what Jace and the others had to say.

"Very well," said Lothrin. "Allow me to get everyone assembled in the Dining Room, and then I'll summon you."

Lannon sat back down, gnawed by impatience that he knew a Dark Watchman shouldn't experience. "As soon as everyone is gathered, I want to be informed. In fact, ring the Meeting Bell in the Library. It's about time we used that thing."

Lothrin bowed. "It shall be done."

After the Birlote Ranger left the room, the pain from Lannon's wound began to throb again and so he stretched out on the bed.

Tenneth Bard was seeking the Hand of Tharnin--perhaps hoping to make himself even more powerful--and somehow Dremlock was already alert to his plans. But Lannon was experienced enough to know that in the war against the Deep Shadow nothing was ever exactly what it seemed.

***

Lannon waited for over an hour. Then he heard the Meeting Bell ring. He rose, put on his tunic, and fastened his sword to his belt. It was time to learn what Dremlock expected of him. He was the High Watchman, but he was still under orders from the Divine Kingdom and would do as commanded.

Lannon's bedchamber was on the tower's fifth floor, along with eight other small bedchambers crowded together along a short hallway. It wasn't the most ideal arrangement, but at least Lannon had his own room. The lesser Knights--those not part of the Council of Ollanhar--slept on the sixth floor in rows of beds placed in spare rooms. The tower was large, but there wasn't a lot of space for living, which was an indication of all the secret chambers that could be found throughout the keep. The walls, which were strangely bulky in places, told the tale for the keen observer. Ollanhar was designed to house a handful of Dark Watchmen, and not a small army of Dremlock's Knights, and that was why the nearby town was being built.

Lannon walked slowly downstairs. Ollanhar had undergone a lot of remodeling since Dremlock's Knights had moved in, with paintings and suits of armor displayed here and there and comfortable rugs on the stone floors. It now resembled one of the great towers of Dremlock on the inside--but this tower lay under a shadow of darkness. Evil sorcery from the age of the Dark Watchmen infested the keep, leading to dreary nightmares and other unpleasant happenings. Lannon was used to the strange events--the groaning and shuffling noises from behind the walls, the laughter and whispers that one could just barely hear, the chills that crept over the flesh. The Deep Shadow was always trying to assert its control, but the Knights of Dremlock knew how to resist it.

Lannon moved down to the fourth floor--to storage rooms filled with crates, sacks, and barrels. Each room in Ollanhar had a high ceiling, which seemed like a foolish design. It meant the tower had a lot of empty space. Lannon guessed there had once been a good reason for this, but he couldn't imagine what it was, and the Eye of Divinity failed to reveal the answer.

The Dining Room lay on the third floor. Seated at the stone tables were members of the Council of Ollanhar: Furlus, Jace, Fadar Stonebow (who had recently been appointed to the Council), Aldreya, Prince Vannas, Bekka, Lothrin, Jerret, and Galvia. Dallsa, who was serving bread, cheese, and drinks, smiled when she saw Lannon walk down the stairs, her face lighting up.

Furlus Goblincrusher sat at the head of the table--the strongest Grey Dwarf in all the land and a famed Tower Master of Dremlock. He was second in command of the Divine Kingdom and a master of warfare. His dark beard was as wide as the table, his grizzled face sullen in the sunlight that streamed in through the window. He liked to present his best appearance at meetings, and so he wore heavy Glaetherin armor and a huge battle axe was strapped to his back.

"Greetings, Lannon," said Furlus, giving the High Watchman a nod. "Good to see you up and about. How are you feeling?"

Lannon bowed. "Good to see you as well, Master Furlus. I'm feeling much better, actually. And I have Jace to thank for saving my life."

"Nonsense," said Jace. He paused to light his pipe and then added, "You were holding your ground when I happened along." The sorcerer was a true giant by Norack standards--standing a half-inch shy of seven feet tall with huge shoulders and hands. In spite of being two centuries old, Jace retained a youthful appearance--his broad face smooth and his black, curly hair containing no hint of grey. His eyes held a twinkle of great intelligence--and perhaps a bit of insanity.

"Holding my ground?" mused Lannon, shaking his head. He sat down next to Aldreya. "Hardly. I think I was pretty much done for."

"Don't underestimate yourself," said Jace, sending a piercing gaze his way. "In the most desperate moments, the Eye of Divinity is at its best."

"I'll take your word for it," said Lannon, not caring to argue the point (though he wasn't convinced in the least).

"Regardless," said Furlus, "you're on the path to recovery, and Dremlock can breathe a big sigh of relief. I strongly suggest you avoid traveling alone. In fact, I'm tempted to order another Divine Shield placed around you."

Lannon groaned. "Not another Divine Shield. Surely you're joking." He had come to love his freedom, and the thought of being under guard night and day--everywhere he went--did not appeal to him in the slightest.

Furlus chuckled. "You're the High Watchman now, Lannon. You would have to approve of such a measure. And, yes, I'm only speaking in jest. I think you're quite capable of looking after yourself, however you see fit."

Aldreya frowned. "I'm not as confident as you are, Furlus. I don't mean to question Lannon's skill, but that was a dire situation in the forest. Lannon could easily have met his doom."

Lannon told himself Aldreya was simply being realistic, but he wished she had a bit more confidence in him.

The others voiced their disagreement with Aldreya, insisting that Lannon would have prevailed. Yet Lannon remained doubtful, plagued by the belief that he would have died in that trail if Jace hadn't come along. In truth, as much as he wanted Aldreya to show it, he didn't deserve her confidence.

Aldreya nodded. "Yes, we all know Lannon is quite skilled. He has proven himself to be a great Knight many times over. He earned--beyond a doubt--the title of High Watchman with his victory over King Verlamer. Nevertheless, he was almost defeated." She fixed a stern gaze on Lannon. "As Green Knight of Ollanhar, I must insist that you be more careful."

Lannon noted the deep concern and hint of fear in her eyes. It was rare for Aldreya to worry about him (or anyone else, for that matter), which meant she took the threat to his life very seriously. Perhaps the pressure of being Green Knight of this remote tower kingdom was getting to her, making her dread the thought of losing Lannon and being forced to face the struggle alone.

"This as gone on far too long," said Galvia. "We need to kill this Tenneth Bard fellow once and for all." The young Grey Dwarf had an angry scowl on her broad face. "Why wait for him to attack us? I think we should hunt him down and put an end to him. We need to become more aggressive."

"Nothing would please me more," said Jerret, smiling at her.

Galvia and Jerret clasped hands briefly--two warriors who were the best of friends and always ready to charge into battle together.

"Perhaps," said Prince Vannas. "But what are the chances that it was actually Tenneth Bard--in the flesh--who attacked Lannon? He could have been any sorcerer with a boastful, lying tongue."

"He wasn't just any sorcerer," said Lannon. "Far from it."

"He is a very powerful foe," said Furlus. "We know that for a fact. He claimed to be Tenneth Bard, and was able to convince Lannon of it. Why should we doubt him? It seems he would have no reason to lie."

"I will answer the good prince's question," said Jace. "Yes, I believe it was Tenneth Bard. He has never been properly dealt with, so why should we believe he isn't still scheming against us? Obviously, he has grown stronger--taking on a physical form that binds him securely to our world. His goal is to open the way for the Deep Shadow, to start another war on life not seen since the age of the Barloak Demons. We have done well at thwarting his plans, but as long as life flows within him he will continue to serve the will of Tharnin. He must be destroyed."

"Easier said than done," Lannon pointed out.

"Certainly," said Jace. "Tenneth Bard was, in my opinion, the most powerful Knight since Kuran Darkender. He was an amazing talent--like Vorden Flameblade...before the Hand of Tharnin did its work."

Vorden lowered his gaze, a pained look on his face.

"Vorden is still a great warrior," said Lannon, in an effort to cheer up his friend. But Vorden didn't respond, retaining his troubled expression.

"Of course," said Jace, smiling "but things have changed. So as I was saying, Vorden possessed that level of talent--that brilliant mind and ability to dominate at Knightly pursuits, just like a young Kuran Darkender. Tenneth Bard was once like that, and all of the other Knights lavished him with praise. But then..."

"Then he became a monster like me," Vorden added quietly.

The others exchanged uncomfortable glances.

Jace blew a wobbly smoke ring, contemplating. "Not like you, Vorden. Tenneth Bard achieved true greatness as a Divine Knight. It was later--after he had become quite a hero--that he gave himself completely to dark sorcery."

Furlus waved dismissively. "Ancient history. What is he seeking these days and how can we kill him? That's what I care about."

"He told us what he is seeking," said Jace. "The Hand of Tharnin. Now that he has obtained a physical form, he wants the gauntlet for himself. He believes it can make him as powerful as a god."

"Such power can never be controlled," said Prince Vannas, his face darkening. "Tenneth Bard is a fool. Mortals were not meant to be gods." He hesitated, all eyes upon him, and added, "When the power of the White Flamestone grows too strong, I can barely control it. At that point, the power takes on a life of its own and begins to assert its will. I have come close to losing myself forever. That is the future that awaits Tenneth Bard if he continues on such a path."

"Tenneth Bard was consumed long ago," said Jace. "The Deep Shadow claimed his very soul. He allowed it to happen, and he enjoys it. And with all due respect, Prince Vannas, you are not truly a sorcerer. A powerful magic user can push himself beyond what seem to be mortal limits. The Hand of Tharnin is a defective item in that it causes madness and loss of control, but someone as powerful as Tenneth Bard might be able to master it--making him nearly invincible. This threat must be taken very seriously."

"And the Black Flamestone?" asked Furlus.

Jace hesitated, a strange gleam in his eye. "Much more dangerous and useless to Tenneth Bard. The Black Flamestone caused massive damage to the Blood Legion, and it is possible Tenneth Bard wants no further part of that item. I firmly believe it is only the gauntlet that interests him."

"Then we must recover the gauntlet soon," said Furlus. "Tenneth Bard might be searching for it even as we speak."

"Where are the items now?" asked Aldreya.

"Where we hid them," said Furlus, "before the battle with the Blood Legion. They are well hidden, but definitely not secure. We must take them to Dremlock, where they will be placed in a very secure vault of Glaetherin. Only Taris Warhawk knows how to open that vault. Also, there is an island called Scalmfort that Dremlock has been meaning to explore for sometime. We believe another one of the Flamestones might be located there--a green one that represents the Flesh of the White Guardian. We want to find it before our enemies do."

"Another Flamestone!" Jace exclaimed, wonder shining in his eyes. "Could it truly be? How certain is the High Council?"

"We are fairly confident it exists there," said Furlus. "The Divine Essence itself revealed this to our Lord Knight. Apparently it took centuries for our god to locate it, but the truth has been revealed at last."

Jace seemed deep in thought for a moment, as the others looked on. The idea of finding another Flamestone was exciting for all, but Jace seemed especially inspired by it. At last the sorcerer asked, "How far out to sea?"

"A week of travel," said Furlus, with a shrug.

"Excellent," said Jace, grinning. "Excellent in all ways, my friends! We could simply dump the Hand of Tharnin overboard. It would sink to a depth that even the most powerful creatures of the Deep Shadow could never go."

Furlus shook his head. "Taris has ordered the gauntlet be brought back to Dremlock. He wants to study it. You need not concern yourselves with it. We will send Knights to retrieve it."

Jace's expression turned a bit sour. "That didn't go so well with the bones of that Great Dragon, now did it? In fact, it cost Thrake Wolfaxe his life. Studying items of the Deep Shadow is a perilous task."

"This is different," said Furlus. "Taris has the support of the Birlote Wizards, who are sending someone to Dremlock to help with the research. They believe the gauntlet holds knowledge that could be very helpful in winning the war against Tharnin. We must return the gauntlet to Dremlock at all costs."

"Then it shall be done, of course," said Jace, though he looked a bit skeptical. "Hopefully, all three items will be brought to Dremlock--if indeed there is another Flamestone to be found."

"This will be a long journey," said Furlus, "into strange lands where Divine Knights are not necessarily recognized or appreciated. Tenneth Bard and the Blood Legion may follow, and Bellis is everywhere these days."

"So who is going?" asked Lannon.

"It hasn't been clearly decided yet," said Furlus, raising his drooping eyebrows. "You're the High Watchman. Who do you think should go?"

"Jace, obviously," said Lannon. "Daledus Oakfist as well, if possible." He hesitated, not wanting to play favorites. "Aldreya, of course, if Ollanhar can spare her. Sorcery will definitely be needed."

"The tower will be left in good hands," said Aldreya, "with Furlus here to guard it. I will make the journey."

"I'm going too," Jerret insisted. "I've had enough of this dreary keep. I want some fresh air and open sky."

Lannon nodded. "I definitely need stout warriors, so Jerret, Vorden, and Galvia should come along. Also, we might need a highly skilled archer and a Ranger." He nodded to Fadar Stonebow and Lothrin.

Lothrin smiled. "Thank you, my friend."

Fadar bowed. "My bow is in your service, High Watchman."

"Actually," said Aldreya, "I would like you to remain at Ollanhar, Fadar. Archers may be needed to defend the tower. You could lead them." She glanced at Furlus for approval, and he nodded.

Again, Fadar bowed. "I shall defend Ollanhar with my life."

"What about me?" asked Prince Vannas, looking hopeful. "What about the power of the White Flamestone?"

Lannon hesitated, knowing the prince was going to be irritated by his response. "I think your skills would be most useful in guarding Ollanhar. After all, with the White Flamestone here the tower is firmly in our grasp."

"I agree," said Aldreya. "The White Flamestone should remain here, where it is close to Dremlock. And I'm sure the High Council would never allow it to be taken beyond the borders of Silverland."

Prince Vannas glowered at Lannon. "So you're going on a perilous quest into strange lands, with Tenneth Bard and his minions possibly chasing after you. Surely the protection of the White Flamestone is required."

"True enough," said Lannon. "But taking the White Flamestone into such strange lands--so far from Dremlock--is too risky. If another war were to begin, you wouldn't be here to defend our god and kingdom."

Prince Vannas sighed. "I know you're right, Lannon. But the adventure sounds exciting, and I hate to miss it. I'm weary of this tower."

"There will be other adventures, my friend," said Lannon. He knew exactly how Vannas felt, and he pitied him.

"I will remain here," said the prince, his expression sullen, "as duty demands."

"Thank you," said Lannon, though it hadn't been Vannas' decision to make. "I will sleep well at night knowing Ollanhar is safe."

Jace's eyes widened. The sorcerer waved his pipe in the air dramatically as he blurted out: "Are you speaking in jest, Lannon? Leave the White Flamestone behind? This is not wise, in my extremely humble opinion! It might take a Flamestone to find a Flamestone. It might take the White Fire to keep us alive when the darkness comes to devour us. Furlus, what are your thoughts on this?"

"I, too, disagree with Lannon's decision," said Furlus. "Obtaining the Flamestone from Scalmfort Island could be very difficult. In fact, the entire journey could be quite perilous. The White Flamestone will be needed. The High Council has already voted on this issue. Prince Vannas must join the quest."

Aldreya looked amazed, her green eyes wide. "Was the Council in unanimous agreement on this, Furlus?"

The gruff Dwarf nodded. "Yes, even Taris."

"But what about Bellis?" asked Lannon, surprised at Furlus' opinion and at the High Council's vote. "Isn't Bellis the greatest threat of all?"

"The peace treaty will prevent an outright war," said Furlus. "If King Verlamer dared break it, he would shame himself and risk the wrath of the Birlotes and Olrogs. Such a thing could doom him. He knows that."

"But he is breaking it," said Lannon. "Obviously, Verlamer was behind the recent Goblin attack. He is still making war on us."

"Yes," said Furlus, "but only on a small scale. He must make use of the Blood Legion and the Goblins to avoid being held responsible--and those are threats that Dremlock can deal with. The Nine Axes will help defend this tower while you're gone, and rest assured, Ollanhar will not fall."

Lannon was impressed. The Nine Axes were mighty Dwarven Dark Knights, nearly invincible beneath their stout armor.

"Are you certain?" asked Lannon, still amazed that Dremlock wanted Prince Vannas to go on the journey. "It just seems like a grave risk to take the White Flamestone so far from Dremlock, considering what happened last time while we were in Kalamede."

"Yes, we were invaded," said Furlus. "But things have changed. Currently, this is a war of expansion--a quiet war, if you will. We are attempting to grow, to gather power, even as Bellis does the same. Power, Lannon. And what is more powerful than the mighty Flamestones? We need to obtain the one on Scalmfort Island before King Verlamer does."

"He knows of it?" asked Lannon.

Furlus' nodded. "Not only does he know of it, but we believe he has already twice tried to obtain it--sending large battalions out to sea. However, his warriors never returned."

Chills crept over Lannon's flesh. He exchanged grim glances with the others. "So the mighty warriors of Bellis vanished at sea...or on the island. But what manner of doom befell them?"

"We don't know," said Furlus. "And that's exactly why the White Flamestone must go with you. Also, Verlamer doesn't give up easily. He will send more warriors--perhaps in even greater numbers--and next time he might succeed in his goal. If he obtains the Green Flamestone, it could make him invincible."

Prince Vannas smiled. "I guess all of us are going."

"Even me?" asked Dallsa, rising from a chair in excitement, bread and cheese dangling from her fingers. However, she also looked a bit fearful.

"We'll need a healer," said Lannon. Seeing the look on her face, he added, "I won't force you to go, of course."

"I'll go," she said, her face growing somber. "It's my duty."

"Count me in," said Bekka Nightspear. "You will need Blue Knights on this quest. I can lead them. I am also a skilled hunter."

"Agreed," said Lannon. "We should take at least ten Blue Knights and ten Red with us--just a small company so we don't attract too much attention." He glanced at Furlus. "Does that sound like a wise plan?"

Furlus shrugged. "Hard to say. Maybe you'd be better off taking an army with you, but since we can't spare that many Knights right now, I guess it doesn't matter. All we can do is hope for the best. With the Eye of Divinity and the White Flamestone, there is a chance for success."

"When do we leave?" asked Aldreya.

"Once Lannon is fully healed," said Furlus. "By then the Nine Axes should have arrived. Meanwhile, I'm going to head over to the town and check on progress. I will also let Daledus know he is going along."

Lannon smiled. "Thank you, Master Furlus, for coming here to guard Ollanhar. It couldn't be left in more capable hands."

Furlus frowned. "No need to address me as Master anymore, High Watchman. Just call me Furlus from now on."

Lannon found it strange to be considered on the same level as Furlus Goblincrusher. He wasn't sure he deserved such status at his young age. How had things progressed so quickly? It seemed not long ago he had been an uncertain Squire of Dremlock under constant orders from those ranked above him. The Eye of Divinity, and a strong, stubborn will, had worked in Lannon's favor.

"May good fortune find you all," said Furlus, guzzling some ale and then slamming down the wooden mug onto the tabletop to conclude the meeting. He did not smile, his face darkened by a tense shadow.

### Chapter 4:

The Tower of Riddles and Dread

Later that night, when most of the tower was asleep, Lannon found himself feeling restless, eager to begin the adventure. He sat in his bedchamber, tapping his foot on the floor and wondering what to do with himself.

It was not the way of Divine Knight--especially one in a position of leadership--to find time to be bored, but it was Lannon's way. After only two decades of life, he still had much to learn. Lannon hadn't yet matured to the point where he knew how to keep himself busy. He bore many great responsibilities but often found himself bored and lacking direction.

He felt good enough to wander around a bit, but leaving the keep was too dangerous, considering he was still in a weakened state. Ollanhar Tower held many areas that Lannon had not yet explored--hidden and perilous places where great rewards might lurk. But he wasn't sure he was fit for attempting such explorations. Instead, he lifted a book from a nightstand. It was titled 600 Uses for Dragon Scales. He read a bit and then laid it down again. He sighed.

A loud knock on the door broke the silence. A moment later, Vorden Flameblade stood before him. Vorden was wearing his heavy armor--which was unusual for this time of night--and his sword hung from his belt.

"Greetings, Lannon. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, actually," Lannon replied. "Still have some pain, though."

Vorden nodded. "So we're leaving soon on this long adventure. Furlus thinks it will be terribly dangerous--to the point where he sends the White Flamestone beyond Silverland. Yet I still don't have a proper sword."

"I'm sorry, Vorden," said Lannon, "but there isn't much to be done about it. How many times have we discussed this issue?"

"I understand," said Vorden. "You're weary of hearing about it. But I would like you to give it one more try. Just one more."

Lannon looked away. "It doesn't matter. I know I can't do it. Besides, I'm not sure I would even be able to climb up there, with my injury and all."

"With the Eye of Divinity," said Vorden, "you can make the climb." He sighed deeply in frustration. "As your best friend, I'm asking you to make the attempt. Without a proper sword, I'm very weak. I have a great deal of sorcery but no blade to channel it through. Such a waste!"

"You have a sword," Lannon pointed out.

Vorden drew his heavy steel broadsword--an excellent sword that most Knights would have treasured--and gazed at it with contempt. Then he held it up. He focused on it and the blade grew red hot, smoldering with the fires of sorcery.

Lannon shrank back from the heat.

As Vorden shook his head in disgust, the blade began to droop into melted ruin. He slammed it down on the stone floor. "You were saying?"

"Okay," said Lannon, "maybe you do need a better blade. But such swords are not cheap or easy to obtain."

"Yet Jerret has one," said Vorden. "And it's made of Glaetherin--making it one of the sturdiest swords in all the land."

"Yes," said Lannon, "and he deserves it. He earned that blade."

Vorden didn't answer, his expression sullen.

"You have magnificent armor," said Lannon. "Maybe the best I've ever seen. A full set of Glaetherin armor fit for a king. Most Knights don't have that."

"I can't strike a blow with my armor," said Vorden.

Lannon had no answer for that.

"What about Birlote steel?" asked Lannon. "Could the sword of a Tree Dweller withstand your sorcery?"

"I doubt it," said Vorden. "It might last a bit longer, but sooner or later it would melt. What I need is Olrog Glaetherin and nothing less."

Or Dragon bone, Lannon thought. He glanced at his sheathed sword, which lay atop the nightstand. He considered just giving the sword to Vorden, but then dismissed the idea. Lannon also needed a powerful sword. Otherwise he had no chance against foes like that dark rider who had nearly slain him. And the sword was bonded to him and was comfortable in his hands in a way that no other sword could be. It seemed like his friend and he couldn't surrender it.

Vorden bowed. "I'll take my leave, then. Goodnight."

"Wait," said Lannon, wanting desperately to give his friend hope. "I know I can't open that safe--not yet. But Ollanhar holds other treasures. Maybe we could do some exploring and see what turns up."

Vorden shook his head. "Do as you wish, Lannon. I'm going to town to have a drink. I'll see you tomorrow."

With that, Vorden left the room, leaving his melted broadsword where it lay. He slammed the door behind him.

Lannon sat in quiet frustration for a time. The truth was that weapons and armor made of Glaetherin or Dragon bone were extremely rare. Most Knights got by without them, relying on iron and steel. Most Glaetherin items belonged to the Grey Dwarves or to Knights who had done something truly heroic. Jerret's sword was an oddity, because many questioned whether or not he actually deserved it. Lannon's own sword had cost a fortune--a gift from the wealthy Taris Warhawk. Yet at the peak of Ollanhar Tower stood a safe containing several Glaetherin swords that had once belonged to the Dark Watchmen--a priceless treasure trove that Lannon couldn't access. He sympathized deeply with Vorden, but High Watchman or not, Lannon was unable to help him. King Verlamer had robbed Dremlock of many great treasures--including Lannon's own irreplaceable throwing star--and nothing could be done about it.

Lannon lay down to sleep, but found himself feeling far too restless. He grabbed his sword and put on his leather boots. It was time to explore.

***

When Lannon stepped into the hallway, he was surprised to find Vorden standing with his back to the wall. Vorden's eyes were closed, his face bathed in crimson from the glow of a torch that was mounted above him. He looked like an armored statue that had been standing there for time untold.

"I thought you headed to town," said Lannon.

Vorden shrugged. "I was thinking."

"About what?" Lannon asked. "A new sword?"

Vorden's shot him an irritated glance. "No, not that. Just things in general." He sighed. "I was wondering if...if I'm in the wrong business."

"What do you mean?" Lannon was gripped by sudden concern. He always hated to see his friends begin to doubt themselves.

"Face it, Lannon, I'm not who I used to be." Vorden lowered his gaze. "I can't get over what happened to me--how I turned against Dremlock and all my friends. The evil sorcery is still within me, trying to break free."

"But you're extremely valuable to Ollanhar," said Lannon. "You're one of the best fighters we've got. You're a Divine Knight, Vorden. You swore an oath to defend this tower and what it stands for."

"You could release me from that oath," said Vorden. "And as a friend, you would do so if I asked it of you. Am I right?"

"Don't ask it," said Lannon, dreading the thought. "Ollanhar needs you! We're about to go on a long and perilous journey, into lands we know nothing about. I definitely want you at my side."

"But I'm practically useless," said Vorden. "What good is a Knight with no blade?"

Ah, so it was indeed about the sword. Relief flooded through Lannon. This, at least, was something he could deal with.

Lannon nodded. "I'll try again to open the safe. But I can't promise anything. I very much doubt I will succeed."

Vorden hesitated. "I don't know. If you do manage to open it, I'll be compelled to stay and fight on." He stood in silence for a few moments and then added, "Maybe it's time for me to quit, to retire from Knighthood forever."

"How can you just walk away?" asked Lannon, in disbelief. "You're making a name for yourself as a great Knight. You've been given a tremendous honor by being made part of the Council here. Your future is bright, my friend."

"No, my future lies in shadow," said Vorden. "Using my abilities causes me to lose myself. I think I would be better off settling down in some quiet town and avoiding trouble. I'm serious about this, Lannon."

"You're afraid," said Lannon, suddenly realizing the truth. Vorden was feeling the same fear that Lannon often felt--fear of being lost to the Deep Shadow. The darkness was always hungry to enslave souls, and exceptionally talented Knights like Vorden and Lannon were prime targets.

"Yes," said Vorden. "Very much so. I fear turning evil again and causing massive destruction. It haunts my dreams, Lannon. And the Hand of Tharnin whispers to me in the night. I'm constantly reminded that I was once a raging monster."

"But Taris Warhawk has faith in you," said Lannon. "He believes you can resist the evil and use your abilities for a noble cause. I wholeheartedly agree with him. Your will is very strong."

"Taris is a great sorcerer," said Vorden, "and an extremely wise man. But he doesn't know everything. He has been wrong before."

Lannon had no answer, so he simply stood in silence waiting for Vorden to decide. He wondered if Vorden was right. Maybe the only way Vorden could save himself from the Deep Shadow was to stop using his abilities. Lannon faced the same peril--the possibility of losing his soul to Tharnin as the Dark Watchmen had so long ago. Who was he to tell Vorden what choice was best for him?

They stood in silence, as the torch flickered above.

After several moments, Vorden stepped away from the wall and smoothed out his dark hair. He adjusted his armor. "Well, I guess I'll carry on."

And that topic was laid to rest.

Vorden smiled. "So you're going to give it another try, huh?"

"If that's what you want," said Lannon.

"You know it is," said Vorden, patting him on the shoulder. "I only ask one thing--that you believe in yourself. I know you can do it."

"I'll do my best," said Lannon. With each failed attempt to unlock the safe, his confidence diminished, making him wonder if he truly deserved to be the High Watchman of Ollanhar. The glorious treasures within the safe were his for the taking, but only if he was fit to possess them. Somehow, he had to convince himself that he was indeed the High Watchman and not an imposter.

Lannon grabbed a torch and they ascended the stairs past more rooms filled with sleeping Knights, until at last they stood in the tower's Sky Chamber with its smooth marble walls and dome-shaped ceiling. Sixty feet above them was a hole in the ceiling, from which a rope hung down. Lannon placed his torch in an iron holder on the wall and then gazed up at the hole, dreading the lengthy climb, his injury throbbing with pain. The shadows were thick in the chamber, flicking on the marble walls--remaining Lannon that evil sorcery lurked here that would seek to make him fail. But he had made a promise to Vorden and would not turn back.

"Why did you bring a torch?" asked Vorden. "We can both see fairly well in the dark. Why would you ever need a torch?"

"It's the nature of the Eye," said Lannon. "I shift its power around based on what I need. Right now I need all my focus for climbing, so seeing in the dark is out. And if I'm very tired or confused, my vision is obscured. And there have been times when I've been afraid to use it--afraid of what I might see."

"Surely you've outgrown that fear," said Vorden.

"It will never leave me," said Lannon.

Vorden gazed at him thoughtfully. "I'm probably aware of some of the things the Eye shows you--at least the things involving the Deep Shadow. I gained knowledge that will haunt me forever."

"You better go first," said Lannon, wanting to change the subject. "In case I fall. And remember to beware of the dark sorcery here."

"You won't fall," said Vorden. Nevertheless, he removed his heavy armor and climbed swiftly up the rope--seemingly unaffected by the dark sorcery--until he disappeared through the hole.

Lannon grabbed the rope and climbed up. It was unpleasant, but the Eye sustained him--dulling his pain and driving away the menacing shadows that swarmed on him. Charged with divine power, Lannon soon joined Vorden on the next floor--the very peak of Ollanhar Tower.

They stood before the large Glaetherin safe, with its extraordinary wheel lock. The safe dominated the room. Vorden had drawn his dagger and was making it glow crimson with sorcery.

"Careful," said Lannon, "don't melt it."

Vorden gave him a wry smile. "I'm not that inept, Lannon. I can produce fire without losing a blade."

"Then why can't you fight like that?" asked Lannon.

"You wouldn't like the answer," said Vorden.

"I think I deserve to know," said Lannon, "considering I came up here once again to try to open this wretched safe."

"Very well," said Vorden. "In battle, I get consumed with energy and passion. Consumed, Lannon. It's impossible for me to hold back, and my blade burns too hot. That's really all there is to it."

"So you lack control," said Lannon.

Vorden nodded. "I'm not a Dark Watchman like you. I don't have precise control of my emotions in combat. I fight more like a Grey Dwarf, I suppose. There is a lot of anger inside me, if you didn't notice. Sometimes I also go berserk and lose myself to it--just like an Olrog."

"Maybe you could learn control," said Lannon. "Ever thought of that?" He truly had no desire to pit himself against the wheel lock again. He was weary to the core of being defeated by it. And he felt Vorden was exaggerating about his lack of control. Vorden had a strong, rational mind. He was not a raging barbarian like Jerret Dragonsbane.

"I've tried," said Vorden. "It just isn't how I fight."

"I don't believe it," said Lannon. "I think you just want a better sword so you can wield more power. That's what I think."

Vorden scowled. "Are you calling me a liar?"

"Of course not," said Lannon, backing away from a confrontation with his friend. "But I think deep inside that's what this is about."

Vorden hesitated, then shrugged. "Believe what you want, Lannon. But even if that were true, it is a perfectly valid reason considering the dangers we face as Knights of Ollanhar. Now are you going to open it or not?"

Lannon seized the wheel lock in frustration. He steadied his mind, determined that he would not fail again. He wanted desperately to prove Vorden right for believing in him, but the wheel lock was a mighty barrier. It had been designed to prevent anyone but an elite Dark Watchman from opening it, and Lannon wasn't on that level yet. He knew it in his heart, but that didn't necessarily mean he couldn't succeed. How talented was he? There was no good way to measure it. The Dark Watchmen were long dead, their strengths and weaknesses only revealed vaguely in books.

Using the Eye of Divinity, Lannon peered into the safe. Six spectacular swords greeted his vision--swords made of Glaetherin and charged with sorcery. These were some of the mightiest blades ever forged. But the other items in there caught his interest even more--a large silver chalice inscribed with the words The Essence Cup, a scroll that showed the location of six hidden chambers in the tower (only one of which Lannon had explored), a book about the affairs of the Dark Watchmen and Silverland, a detailed map of the portals to Tharnin that existed in Silverland, and another book that was very thick and titled Shadows of Ollanhar. This book held the deepest secrets of the Dark Watchmen--a book that Lannon could have easily read from where he stood. Lannon, however, had been warned by Taris not to read the book until he was able to open the safe. Taris believed the book would only tell him lies--until it rested within Lannon's hands.

The safe was the ultimate test of Lannon's power. Until he could unlock it, he was not ready for the knowledge contained within. He didn't deserve it. As the last of the Dark Watchmen, the items belonged to him. The very walls of Ollanhar were waiting in breathless silence for Lannon to claim those items and prove that he was, beyond a doubt, the High Watchman.

Lannon drove the Eye of Divinity into the wheel lock, demanding it open. He made three mighty attempts--but each time the wheel finished spinning, no click could be heard.

At last, Lannon bowed his head in defeat. "I'm sorry, Vorden. I'm just not ready yet. Maybe I never will be."

"You surrender too easily," said Vorden.

"Not true," said Lannon, feeling a spark of anger. "I gave everything I had. It just wasn't quite enough. I want this safe opened more than you do. I dream about it almost every night. But I need to develop my skills a bit more. Maybe this journey will help me reach a new level."

Vorden gazed at him in silence for a few moments, then nodded. "I understand, Lannon. You did your best. Try again, after the journey."

Lannon felt sorry for his friend. Vorden had to face the perilous quest with a weak blade. But maybe there was still hope. One of the treasures within the safe was accessible to him--the scroll that revealed that hidden chambers in Ollanhar. In the one chamber Lannon had explored, he had found his extraordinary Glaetherin throwing star. It seemed likely that other treasures could be found.

Vorden started toward the rope, but Lannon grabbed his arm. "Wait a moment. How would you like to explore a hidden chamber? It will likely be dangerous, but we might find something useful."

Vorden hesitated, then said, "I'm guessing all the good swords are in this safe, but...I suppose. I have nothing better to do right now."

Lannon read the scroll and selected a hidden chamber. Chills crept over his flesh. This would be no easy task, and death could be the result.

***

The secret chamber was located beneath the tower. Lannon and Vorden went downstairs until they reached Ollanhar's Entrance Chamber, which was an octagonal room that contained soft rugs, comfortable chairs, and one large circular table. A bookshelf filled with thick tomes stood against one wall, barrels of wine and ale stood in the corners, and shelves held jars of tobacco and other luxury items. This was where the Council of Ollanhar held meetings with outsiders, and it also served as an office for Aldreya, with stacks of papers on the table and locked safes on the shelves holding official documents.

At the center of the Entrance Chamber was a heavy stone trapdoor with an iron ring embedded in it. Their destination lay beneath that trapdoor.

"I'm not allowed down there," Vorden reminded Lannon, as the two warriors stood gazing down at the trapdoor.

It was true. The lowest level of Ollanhar was forbidden to anyone except Lannon due to the immense danger of the ghosts of the Dark Watchmen that lurked below. They would kill anyone other than the High Watchman.

"I'm making an exception," said Lannon. "Just stay away from the ancient door down there, and you'll be okay. I must warn you, though, that you will experience some intense feelings as the shades seek to frighten you away. They are extremely powerful entities."

"I can handle that," said Vorden. "I'm used to the Deep Shadow, remember? I know all of its tricks. I've used them myself."

It was a chilling statement. Indeed, Vorden had once been a Black Knight of Tharnin and the commander of the Blood Legion. Lannon sometimes forgot that Vorden had been consumed by darkness. Lannon in fact wanted to forget, but Vorden always seemed to remind him.

"Steady your mind," said Lannon. He lifted the trapdoor, and they headed down some stone steps into darkness. Whispers of doom filled their minds, warning them away. When the ghosts realized it was Lannon, they withdrew from him--but Vorden's presence caused them great agitation.

Vorden raised his hand as if to shield his face. "Ugh! They're swarming on me like bats!" The shadows had left the ancient door that stood at the base of the stairs and had surrounded Vorden.

"Leave us!" Lannon commanded, waving his torch at the ghosts. "We have business here that does not involve you."

Reluctantly, the shades withdrew back into the door. They would obey the High Watchman--as long as they felt he was making war on the Deep Shadow. Yet they didn't fully trust Lannon and perhaps never would.

"Wretched ghosts," Vorden muttered, his face pale. He wiped sweat from his brow. "I actually wasn't expecting that. It was amazingly intense."

"I told you they were powerful," said Lannon. "What did you expect from the ghosts of Dark Watchmen?"

They quickly exited the stairs just in front of the thick oaken door bound in iron. For a moment, Vorden's gaze lingered on the door, above which hung a gleaming battle axe. He seemed lost, his eyes fixed on the dark spaces between the moldy planks.

"It's an illusion," said Lannon. "Resist it."

But then Vorden's gaze rose to the battle axe. He pointed at it, his yellow eyes shining with excitement. "But that axe is real, Lannon! I sense great power within it!" He started forward.

Lannon yanked Vorden away from the door. "Forget you ever saw it. The shades would destroy you if you tried to claim that weapon. They use that axe to guard this portal to Tharnin, to make sure no human or beast passes through."

"Sorry," Vorden mumbled. "I lost myself for a moment."

"Never come down here without me," Lannon warned, fearing Vorden might return later and try to retrieve the axe. "You would only find your doom."

"I'm not stupid," Vorden muttered.

They stood before a lumpy stone wall that was barren except for a rusted iron torch holder and a circle of runes. Lannon probed the wall with the Eye and found a powerful illusion in front of him that was generated by the runes. A section of the wall was actually missing, yet Lannon could reach out and touch the stone that wasn't there, feeling every bump and pit.

"Amazing," he said. "It looks and feels totally real, but it isn't. We can walk right through this wall." He probed beyond it and found a passageway that led to an iron door that radiated dark sorcery.

With that, Lannon stepped into the passageway.

Vorden watched as Lannon seemingly disappeared into solid stone, his face bearing a startled expression.

"Come on in," said Lannon.

Vorden stepped forward and bumped the wall with his armored chest. Looking greatly confused, he beat on the stone with his fist. "It's totally solid, Lannon. Are you sure this is an illusion?"

"Of course," said Lannon. "A very potent one. But you saw me go through. Now all you have to do is make yourself believe."

Vorden closed his eyes and focused, and with his Knightly training and mastery of sorcery, he was able to join Lannon in the passageway. "That was easy enough," he said, as he stepped inside.

"Yes, that was the simple part," said Lannon. He pointed at the iron door that was just barely revealed in the torchlight. "That door, however, is the real barrier, and I assure you this one won't be easy."

The door was dreadful--a monstrous construction of iron and dark sorcery that had guarded the passageway for centuries. It was a large circular wheel, covered in smaller wheels, amidst which protruded a demonic face. The face was that of a mighty Barloak Demon of Tharnin, with a bull-like head bearing six horns and an open mouth filled with curved fangs. Eyes of blue crystal gazed at them. Those eyes were currently lifeless, but Lannon could sense the powerful energy within waiting to be awakened.

A real demon lurked inside the iron door, endlessly patient yet always hungry for victims. Scattered throughout the passageway were the bones of the dead--those who had survived the shades and had sought the treasures that lay beyond this door. They had gambled against the demon and lost.

Lannon scanned the passageway and found other traps--yet they had all been sprung or deactivated. All that remained now was the demon.

"Well, this looks rather dangerous," said Vorden.

Lannon nodded. "Maybe too dangerous. Is it really worth it just to explore a hidden chamber?"

Vorden shrugged. "It's your decision, Lannon."

Lannon was eager to find out what lay beyond the door, but he didn't want to put Vorden in danger. "You should wait here until I disable the door."

"Nope," said Vorden. "If you go, I go."

"Then stay behind me," said Lannon. "I can shield us both."

They started forward, Lannon using the Eye to protect himself and Vorden trailing along. As they approached the iron door, the large wheel and the smaller ones began to rotate. A howl like the moaning of the wind arose, and then a hiss as steam poured from the demon's nostrils. Lannon gazed at the demon head with shock and disgust. Everywhere there were turning, squirming motions, as countless wheels and gears clicked and rotated and tumbled here and there into and out of slots. It was as if the iron structure was truly alive, made of hundreds of moving parts that channeled dark sorcery and magnified its power--all with the intent of slaying intruders. No sorcerer, however mighty, was meant to pass this barrier.

The demon's crystal eyes glowed with a frosty blue light, freezing Lannon's soul. The steam from the nostrils clouded his vision, until only those twin lights could be seen before him. Then a blast like blue lightning shot forth and struck him, knocking him backwards into Vorden, who toppled over.

Lannon turned and reached down to help Vorden up, when another blast struck him from behind. This one was more powerful than he had anticipated, and he pitched forward onto the floor.

Vorden rose and charged at the demon, with only his dagger in hand. But blue lightning blasted into his chest and he was hurled against the tunnel wall. His armor glowed red hot where the lightning had struck, and with a cry of pain, he quickly removed it. Underneath, his tunic was burned through and the flesh beneath blackened and severely damaged.

Lannon leapt in front of Vorden and deflected more lightning with the Eye. It took considerable energy to generate such a shield, and Lannon was quickly tiring. The wound that Tenneth Bard had inflicted on him burned with pain, sapping his strength. He wasn't nearly as resistant to injury as Vorden (who had been strengthened by the Deep Shadow), and he sensed that if the blue lightning got past his shield, he would be dead instantly.

Before the demon head could launch another attack, Lannon hurled his sword at one of the crystal eyes. He drove it home with all the force and accuracy that his power would allow, and the blue orb shattered. Yet the other eye launched more lightning at him, which he again deflected.

Lannon drew his sword back to his hand and hurled it again, shattering the remaining crystal eye. The demon howled in anguish and then went silent, having no further means of attack.

Lannon retrieved his sword, then examined Vorden. His flesh was burned so deeply Lannon could see exposed bone. "That looks very bad!" he said, groaning. The battle had been far more intense than Lannon had expected. He chastised himself for nearly getting Vorden killed. What had prompted him to take such a risk?

"I'll heal," said Vorden.

"How can you heal from that?" asked Lannon, in disbelief. "I need to get you to Dallsa immediately!"

Vorden's expression of agony turned into a sneer. "I'm not just a man anymore, remember? I'm cursed by the Deep Shadow. It binds my flesh and bone. It is the same skill that Tenneth Bard possesses. I don't require a healer, as long as my heart still beats." With that, he put his armor on and leaned heavily against the wall, panting hard from the pain. "We shall continue."

"Wait here, then," said Lannon. "Rest yourself. You've just had a hole burned in your chest. I'll explore the chamber on my own." He found himself disgusted with the Dark Watchmen of ancient times. That door was a cruel abomination of the Deep Shadow (though Lannon couldn't deny it had done its job well in defending whatever lay beyond it, with the scattered bones telling the tale.)

Vorden grinned and patted his armor. "Had that energy burned my heart out, I would be finished. I'm thinking it was a close call. It made my armor so hot the flesh just melted apart beneath."

Lannon realized how close his friend had come to dying. He hesitated, wondering if they should turn back.

Vorden waved him on. "Do what you must."

Lannon sent the Eye beyond the door to search for danger, but found none. With that, he pushed on the door with all his might, but it failed to open.

Lannon paused to catch his breath. "This thing just doesn't want to budge. I think it's rusted shut or something."

Vorden staggered over to him. "Let me help."

Lannon shook his head. "Don't try it, Vorden."

Vorden ignored him and, grunting, pushed on the door. Lannon did the same, and with a screech of metal, it opened inward.

Vorden paused, swaying, and Lannon thought he might topple over. Then Vorden motioned him along. "I'm fine. Just a bit dizzy. The pain is getting dulled a bit. It's the dark sorcery...flooding into the wound."

They entered a round chamber which held a bulky iron furnace at the center. Pipes from the furnace vanished into the walls and ceiling. Blocks of wood and lumps of coal stood in heaps nearby. Beyond the furnace was another passageway.

"What do you make of that?" asked Lannon.

"It's a furnace," said Vorden. "Obviously."

"I know that," said Lannon. "But what do you think it was for? Heating purposes, or something else? Forging weapons, maybe?"

Vorden examined the rusty device. He traced his finger over some Dwarven runes engraved in the iron. "I see no evidence of a forge. I would guess it once heated the tower in winter. Too bad the East Tower of Dremlock didn't have one of these to warm the upper chambers. It was always freezing cold in there."

"Odd place for it, though," said Lannon. "Of course, it was probably installed when the Dark Watchmen were still alive and it was safe to come down here. Now, because of the ghosts, it's pretty much useless."

"Too bad," said Vorden. "Come winter, we'll wish we could make use of it. Maybe we can locate another route to this chamber. Or make one."

They moved on into the passageway. It ended at another iron door--this one protected by a wheel lock. Lannon sighed.

Vorden glared at him. "Just give it a try. You used to open wheel locks all the time at Dremlock."

Lannon let the Eye of Divinity guide his hands. He sensed this lock wasn't as sophisticated as the one that guarded the safe above, and after a single attempt a loud click arose. Lannon shoved open the door.

The chamber beyond was a small museum of sorts. Various items lay atop wooden stands. Most of the items held little meaning for Lannon and Vorden (a book of Birlote poetry and one concerning Olrog machines, a rusty iron candle holder shaped like a serpent, a lump of green crystal that appeared to have been melted, three iron darts, and a pair of steel gauntlets). There was also an Olrog helm made of impure Glaetherin and a rare Birlote war shield covered with gleaming spikes.

Wincing in pain, Vorden lifted the ugly helm, which had square eyeholes and horns that made it look almost demonic. "I was nearly killed for this? Only a Grey Dwarf could wear this monstrosity. Maybe Daledus would want it."

Lannon lifted one of the iron darts and examined it, then laid it back down. "That helm and shield are worth a lot of silver. I think this is a great find for Ollanhar." He watched with concern as Vorden lost his grip on the helm and it clattered to the floor. Vorden slumped against the wall, breathing hard.

"I still think you need a healer," said Lannon.

But Vorden waved him away angrily. "No, I just need some rest. There is nothing in here that I want. Bunch of junk."

"What about the shield?" asked Lannon, his gaze fixed on the round, gleaming object that lay atop one of the wooden stands. He read the inscription below it, written in the Sacred Text that only a Dark Watchman could read:

### King Gormanol's War Shield

Lannon was impressed. "Looks like it belonged to a Birlote King."

"I don't carry a shield," said Vorden. "It would just get in my way. More useful to a Brown Knight. Besides, I would end up melting it into ruin, and it's obviously worth a lot of money, not to mention its historical value."

"If you want the shield," said Lannon, "take it. You deserve it, my friend. Maybe Dremlock doesn't think you're important enough to be given an elite weapon, but I do. If you end up melting it in battle, so be it. It's made of Birlote steel, though, so it's probably fairly durable."

"If it's not Glaetherin," said Vorden, "it will melt."

Lannon turned away in frustration. "I don't know what else to say. You're not in any shape to do more exploring, and neither am I, actually. And if you won't see a healer, than at least get some rest."

Lannon started toward the door, but when he heard no footsteps behind him, he paused and turned. "Are you coming?"

Vorden lifted the spiked shield. He gazed at it in the torchlight, tracing his finger over the Birlote runes that encircled its edge. He poked at one of the spikes. "Well, it's better than nothing, I guess."

"Are you going to make it?" asked Lannon, his concern growing by the moment. Each step seemed to cause Vorden terrible pain.

"That demon struck a rather stout blow." Vorden smiled. "Where's a good shield when you need one?"

"Right in your hand," said Lannon. "Just don't melt it."

### Chapter 5:

The Lawkeeper and His Bitter Tongue

The next morning, Vorden was still in rough shape. Dallsa took him into her care, bringing him food and water. However, Vorden would not allow her to examine or treat his wound, even though he was running a very high fever and seemed to be in intense pain. Everyone at Ollanhar was deeply concerned. Based on Lannon's description of the battle, they knew Vorden had received a wound that would have killed a lesser Knight instantly. Dallsa was afraid that malicious sorcery might have invaded Vorden's flesh and was continuing to do damage, but Vorden dismissed her concern, pointing out that he was already infested with dark sorcery and that a little more of it wouldn't harm him.

Lannon, on the other hand, was feeling much better physically. As the morning sun cast its golden light over the tower grounds, he stood beneath the ancient apple tree that was still wet from the dew. He blamed himself for Vorden's condition and vowed that in the future he alone would explore Ollanhar Tower. Only a Dark Watchman was meant to venture into the forbidden places and unlock the secrets of the keep. He told himself that he had been a fool for taking Vorden on such an adventure.

Dallsa emerged from the tower and approached, shaking her head in frustration. "Why does Vorden have to be so stubborn? He's risking his life to prove a point, and...well...it's just stupid."

Lannon nodded. She was right, but there was nothing to be done about it. Lannon had given up on trying to reason with Vorden.

"You seem calm," she said, "considering the situation." She glared at him. "Why are you always so calm, Lannon?"

Lannon brushed a leaf from his cloak, and said nothing. He wanted to be alone. He was calm because he had trained himself to be calm, because being a Divine Knight and a Dark Watchman required great mental focus. He had learned to keep his emotions in check and put duty ahead of everything else, so that fear and other blinding forces would not disrupt his clarity. Dallsa, however, had not yet been properly trained, and her emotions often ran wild.

She pressed close to him. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her round, pale face was inches from his own. "What was Vorden doing down there, anyway? I thought that area was forbidden to anyone but you. That was a rule established by you and Aldreya."

She was close enough Lannon thought she might try to kiss him. He turned away. "I don't know. I wish I hadn't taken him down there. I felt sorry for him because he doesn't have a suitable weapon. I thought we might find one."

"You risked his life for a weapon?" she said, wrapping her arms around him. Her eyes were wide with disbelief. "That's not like you, Lannon."

Lannon pulled away from her and leaned against the apple tree. "You're right. What can I say? I just wasn't thinking clearly."

"What can't I give you a hug?" she asked, looking annoyed. "Aren't you my friend?"

"We're definitely friends," said Lannon, feeling uncomfortable. "But the Sacred Laws..."

"What about them?" she asked, hands on her hips. "Are you trying to say I want more than just friendship?"

"Kind of," he admitted. He was guessing his face had gone red.

She frowned. "And what if that were true?"

"The Sacred Laws forbid it, Dallsa," he said sternly. "Therefore, it would be impossible."

She gazed at him for a moment, then nodded. "You'll never break the Sacred Laws. At least, not for something like..." She sighed. "I know you too well. You're way too stubborn for that." There was a hint of pain in her eyes.

Dallsa did know him well. Lannon would not break the Sacred Laws for Dallsa, even though he had broken those laws before. He had matured since then, and his belief in Dremlock and Ollanhar was too important to him. In fact, it bothered him that she had even considered such a thing.

"Are you happy with your life," Lannon asked. "As a healer?"

"Yes," she said. "And no, I wasn't intending to break the Sacred Laws. I just...wanted to know where you stood."

"But you already knew," he pointed out.

"Yes," she said, and again there was a hint of pain in her eyes. "But I needed to hear you say it. Now I'll just forget about it."

"Can you?" he asked.

She gazed back defiantly. "I can, and I will."

Lannon let the issue rest and examined the apple tree, with its mossy trunk and sprawling branches that hung low and touched the ground. This tree had once been thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow, but Dallsa had worked tirelessly at freeing it and some of the evil sorcery had diminished. Strength and wholesomeness was returning to the tree once again, and perhaps eventually it would bear delicious fruit that one could eat without fear of being infected by darkness. The Birlotes had planted this tree, and it was special--able to live for centuries. The fruit had once contained healing properties, filling the body with vigor.

Lannon patted the trunk. "I could use a good apple right now."

"Me too," said Dallsa, pinching his arm. "But if I may have your attention, High Watchman, a visitor just entered the grounds. And he looks to be from Bellis Kingdom."

***

The man who approached--a sour-faced Birlote--was well over six-feet tall and dressed in an extravagant crimson cloak with gold trim. He walked with a slight limp, dragon cane in hand. His silver hair stuck up in odd spikes, and his facial features were devilish even by Birlote standards. His skin was somewhat pale for a Tree Dweller. He carried a leather satchel under one arm. He was flanked by four Guardians--the Golden Knights of Bellis--and twelve warriors armed with deadly crossbows that fired exploding arrows. Two Thallite giants--each over ten-feet tall and defended by stout crimson armor--walked at the rear, holding banners that displayed the Crest of Bellis. It was an impressive force.

The leader strode up to Lannon with such vigor that Lannon's hand instinctively tightened around his sword hilt. But the newcomer only glared down at him and said, "I'm seeking the Green Knight of Ollanhar or the High Watchman."

Lannon introduced himself.

He gazed at Lannon with utter disdain. "I am the Lawkeeper of Bellis. My name is Karlus. I request a meeting be held at once."

Dallsa opened her mouth to say something, but Lannon gave her a warning nudge. "Meetings are usually scheduled in advance."

The Lawkeeper nodded. "We sent a bird bearing the request."

"It never arrived," said Lannon, a shadow of dread settling over him. Why had Bellis sent such mighty warriors to Ollanhar? Was this a prelude to another war? Four Guardians and two Thallites suggested the situation was at least extremely serious. It also suggested Bellis was anticipating a possible fight. But why? What news could Bellis deliver that would lead to such a conflict?

"That's not my problem," said the Lawkeeper. "I came a long way to meet with the Council of Ollanhar. Are you turning me away?" His tone of voice promised doom if Lannon refused him.

It's not mine, either, Lannon thought. But instead he merely shrugged. "We can hold a meeting. I will gather the Council."

"Our horses are in the trail," said the Lawkeeper. "I request that they be given a stable and tended to properly. Also, there are valuables in our packs. I would be most displeased if they came up missing."

Dallsa's face reddened with anger. "No one is going to steal your valuables. We're not thieves."

The Lawkeeper ignored her. "What say you, Sunshield?"

Lannon nodded. Rudeness would only work against him. "I'll send someone to look after your horses. Meanwhile, you can come inside for food and drink." He glanced at the two giants. "Unfortunately, our tower isn't designed for guests as large as those Thallites..."

The Lawkeeper's face was stony. "They can stand."

***

The only members of the Council of Ollanhar present for the meeting were Aldreya, Lannon, Dallsa, and Jerret. Early that morning, Furlus had taken the others on a mission to investigate claims of a Goblin attack on a nearby village and it was not known when they would return. Vorden, of course, remained in his bedchamber, still deeply wounded.

They gathered in the Entrance Chamber, where Dallsa served drinks and snacks. The Lawkeeper seemed impatient, wanting to get on with the discussion. His Knights and Thallite Giants filled the room, muscular warriors adorned with gleaming weapons and armor, their faces cold in the sunlight that streamed in through the windows. Also present was a scribe. They all stood like statues while the Lawkeeper sat at the table indulging in wine and cheese.

"Have some food and drink," said Lannon, to the scribe and the warriors. He motioned for them to sit.

"It is not allowed," said the Lawkeeper. "Our kingdom is not like Dremlock. Our warriors follow a strict and precise routine that they do not deviate from unless forced to. They will eat later."

"If they must," said Lannon, feeling grateful he wasn't a Knight of Bellis. "There is plenty of food and drink, though."

The Lawkeeper gave a mocking smile. "Yes, the Divine Knights love to indulge and make merry. Softens both the will and the belly."

Jerret tapped his stomach. "Hard as stone, Lawkeeper." He gazed at the Lawkeeper with open contempt.

"But no brain inside the skull, barbarian," came a whisper from Bellis' Knights. That prompted some grins and quiet laughter.

Jerret rose from his chair, hand on his broadsword. Aside from the Thallite Giants, he was the largest and most muscular warrior in the room. He gazed at Bellis' elite fighters. "Who speaks?"

No one answered. Sneering, Jerret sat down again.

The Lawkeeper waved at Jerret dismissively. "I have no time to debate the differences in our kingdoms." He sipped at his wine, looking displeased with the flavor, and then motioned Lannon to sit. "Let us proceed."

Reluctantly, Lannon sat down. He was hoping the others would return in time for the meeting. He especially wanted Furlus present. Furlus was second in command at Dremlock and would know how to deal with a fellow like this Lawkeeper. Also, Ollanhar Tower was nearly deserted, and with some of Bellis' mightiest warriors crowded into the room, Lannon was left feeling a bit nervous. Aldreya's face was stony, but he sensed she was anxious as well.

"I shall get right to the point," said the Lawkeeper.

"Before you do that," said Lannon, "would you prefer to wait for a bit? Furlus and the others should be back before long." In truth, Lannon had no idea how long Furlus would be gone, but he wanted to give the Tower Master a chance to return. If this meeting was as important as Lannon suspected it was, then Dremlock Kingdom would need to be directly involved.

"I suggest we wait," said Aldreya.

The Lawkeeper plopped his satchel onto the table. "Waiting does not appeal to me. I have a very long journey ahead. Are the two of you not in charge here?"

"We are the leaders," said Aldreya.

"And do you represent both Ollanhar and Dremlock?" he went on. He lit up a pipe, took a puff, and made a gagging noise.

"To some degree," said Aldreya. "But we are not on the High Council of Dremlock. We do not speak for the Divine Kingdom. If you want Dremlock to be a part of this, you'll have to wait for Furlus."

"Is this your best tobacco?" the Lawkeeper asked. "I find it appalling! Is this some wretched Olrog smoke? Or even worse, Norack leaf?"

"Norack," Lannon replied. "The best we have, currently."

The Lawkeeper glowered. "Is this how you treat respectable guests? The wine is bland, the cheese worthy of contempt, and the tobacco enough to choke a man with its foul aura. I am extremely disheartened, and the discussion has yet to begin. If you want this tiny kingdom to be taken seriously, you need to make some major improvements. At the moment, Ollanhar is simply pathetic."

"Pathetic?" Anger gripped Lannon. "Is that why Bellis sends four Guardians, two Thallites, and a number of elite Knights?"

"Calm yourself, Lannon," Aldreya whispered in his ear.

"I'm fine," he mumbled back.

The Lawkeeper pounded the table with his fist, spilling his wine. "Serving girl!" he bellowed. "Clean up this mess!"

Dallsa's teeth clenched in anger.

"Take care of it, Dallsa," Aldreya commanded.

Reluctantly, she did as ordered. She poured him more wine and plopped it down. "Anything else, your lordship?" Her voice was heavy with sarcasm. When the Lawkeeper didn't respond, she sat down.

"By the way, your lordship," said Dallsa, ignoring a warning glance from Aldreya, "since I am on the Council of Ollanhar and not just your average serving girl, I think I better refrain from fetching drinks for the remainder of the meeting so I can pay attention to the discussion and record it properly!" She slammed a stack of papers down before her and began writing on them furiously.

The Lawkeeper raised an eyebrow as he gazed at her. "You are a strange one. If you have nothing important to say, perhaps you can keep quiet." He turned his gaze toward Lannon. "I see you lack proper servants as well--and a proper scribe."

Lannon shrugged. "We do what we can here." He didn't bother to explain that Ollanhar's servants were currently busy in town or that Dallsa often volunteered to perform duties such as cooking, delivering messages, record keeping, or serving drinks when she wasn't required to do so.

The Lawkeeper ran his fingers through his spiked hair, looking dismayed. "Perhaps King Verlamer has overestimated Ollanhar, in which case I am utterly wasting my time. Nevertheless, we shall proceed." He removed a scroll from his satchel and opened it for Lannon to see. "Do you recognize this?"

Lannon nodded. "It's the agreement I signed concerning my duel with King Verlamer. I have my own copy." He read it again anyway:

Honorable Duel

Participants: Verlamer the Just (King of Bellis) and Lannon Sunshield (Divine Knight of Dremlock and famed Dark Watchman).

Location: The North Tower Courtyard, Dremlock Kingdom.

Time and date: Noon, 1219, Year of the Hawk

Until death, submission, or inability to rise.

Rewards:

King Verlamer's life and Lannon Sunshield's goods and, if slain, his remains.

The liberation of Lannon Sunshield's Kingdom of Dremlock, including the return of all seized items, for an indefinite time period (provided that Dremlock not interfere with the affairs of Bellis).

Signed... Verlamer the Just

Signed... Lannon Sunshield

"Does Dremlock honor this agreement?" asked the Lawkeeper. "A simple question that demands a simple answer. Yes, or no?"

"Yes," said Lannon.

"Yes," said Aldreya.

"Indeed." The Lawkeeper looked amused. "Then why is Dremlock seeking to expand into territories owned by Bellis?"

"I wasn't aware," said Aldreya, "that Bellis owned any land in this region. Ollanhar Tower has always belonged to Dremlock."

"King Verlamer disputes that," said the Lawkeeper. He opened one his thick books and proceeded to read a few complex passages regarding kingdom law that Lannon didn't understand. He jammed his finger against the page periodically as he read, as if pointing out some fact that could not be disputed.

Aldreya listened carefully but said nothing.

"Sounds like a bunch of sly statements," Jerret muttered, "designed to support Verlamer's tyranny. "Why should Ollanhar care what your book says, Lawkeeper? We don't follow Bellis' rules."

The Lawkeeper snapped the book shut and slammed it down. "These laws are ancient and have proven themselves sound again and again throughout the ages. But I wouldn't expect a common warrior to understand that. I would, however, expect someone to understand it who holds the title of High Watchman--or a Birlote from the Royal Family of Borenthia."

"I understand it well enough," said Aldreya. "There is some truth there--but it has been twisted in favor of your kingdom, either deliberately or by careless misinterpretation."

"That's your opinion, Green Knight," said the Lawkeeper. "Others throughout Gallamerth do not share that view."

"Because they're enslaved," said Jerret.

The Lawkeeper scowled. "Hardly. They have never been more liberated. Regardless, I have done my best to convince you--in the clearest manner possible." He rested his hand on the book and sighed.

"But what does it mean?" asked Lannon, yawning. "In simple terms." Lannon knew very little about the laws of the land. His recent official appointment as High Watchman had come as a surprise. In fact, such topics bored him deeply. But he didn't want to appear lazy or disinterested to this arrogant Lawkeeper.

The Lawkeeper raised a silver eyebrow, apparently surprised at Lannon's lack of comprehension. "Simply that King Verlamer rightfully interprets this agreement to mean that Dremlock must stay on its mountain and stay out of Bellis' affairs. By occupying this tower, you have invaded land claimed by Bellis. Therefore, you are interfering with our affairs. Thus, the expansion is not legal."

Jerret laughed, and raised a mug of ale. "Your king interprets things however he wants, to serve his own goals. I wondered how long it would take before Verlamer started complaining that we had violated the treaty."

"He has every right to complain, barbarian," said the Lawkeeper. "In fact, he has every right to make war on your little kingdoms--both Ollanhar and Dremlock. It is only by his amazing generosity and love of peace that he currently refrains from doing so--in hope of a better solution."

"Love of peace?" Jerret grinned. "He doesn't love peace anymore than I do. He lives to conquer. Are you speaking in jest?"

"Perhaps you've had too much ale, barbarian," said the Lawkeeper. "Peace is what King Verlamer lives for. His goal is to stop all of the wars that rage across Gallamerth, to make it one unified kingdom. Dremlock is seeking to disrupt that goal, and that is why I have come here--to insist that you stop this illegal expansion, abandon this tower, and return to your mountain. If you do so, you will be given more freedom to trade with the cities of Silverland. It will work to your advantage. Otherwise, I'm afraid another war is inevitable, and all of you know how the last one turned out for Dremlock."

"That is not our decision," said Aldreya.

"It doesn't matter," said the Lawkeeper. "You will report this to Dremlock, and Taris Warhawk and his High Council can decide."

"Then why didn't you go directly to Dremlock?" asked Lannon.

"Because I am assigned to another task," said the Lawkeeper. "King Verlamer has requested that I place you under observation, Sunshield. So henceforth, I will be watching you and reporting what I observe."

"That's ridiculous," said Lannon. "The agreement never allowed for that. You are forbidden to remain at Ollanhar."

"Is it worth starting a war over?" asked the Lawkeeper.

"You cannot threaten us with that," said Aldreya. "Dremlock does not yield to the demands of a tyrant. If you go to war, then you break the treaty--and I assure you the Birlotes and Olrogs will be most displeased. Such agreements are considered sacred throughout Gallamerth."

"You have been living a lie," said the Lawkeeper. "Believing in nonsense. The Birlotes and Olrogs will do nothing. Dremlock's only hope is to withdraw from Ollanhar immediately and sign a new treaty stating that it will never seek to expand again. It's as simple as that, and peace will result."

"We have your message," said Lannon. "We will deliver it to Dremlock, and the High Council will decide. Is there anything else?"

The Lawkeeper produced a leather pouch and laid it on the table. He fixed his gaze on Lannon. "I understand that you have made claims that King Verlamer stole from you. Is this true?"

Lannon nodded. "He took my Glaetherin throwing star. It was an extremely rare and valuable item."

The Lawkeeper opened the pouch and took out a gleaming star blade. It looked exactly like the one Lannon used to own, but a quick scan with the Eye of Divinity revealed it was a fake--a replica made of Thallite steel.

The Lawkeeper bore a smug look. "Our great king is no thief, so you can cease your complaining and smearing his reputation. The star blade was taken by accident."

Lannon took the throwing star and weighed it in his hand. It was roughly the same weight and the metal was quite durable--though certainty not as strong as pure Glaetherin. "It's not my blade, but I'll keep it anyway."

The Lawkeeper looked appalled. "Not your blade? But you'll keep it?" He seemed speechless for a moment, his mouth hanging open.

"Did you think Lannon wouldn't know?" asked Aldreya. "He bears the Eye of Divinity. A foolish effort on King Verlamer's part."

The Lawkeeper shook his head. "Such disrespect and arrogance! That is indeed your blade, Sunshield. I personally oversaw the testing of the metal. Either your precious Eye is mistaken, or you are not being truthful."

"There is no mistake," said Lannon. "My throwing star rests in your king's trophy collection, along with several other valuable items from Dremlock."

"Like Vorden's sword," said Jerret, with a laugh.

"We have returned your blade, Sunshield," said the Lawkeeper. "My scribe has witnessed and recorded the act. You can say whatever you want, but be assured that Bellis will dispute your claims. You will no longer be believed."

Lannon knew a response was pointless.

"Is there anything further you would like to discuss?" asked Aldreya.

"Not today," said the Lawkeeper. "I'm a busy man, and I like to keep my meetings brief. I should inform you, though, that I fully intend to do my duty and place you under observation, Sunshield. I will leave the tower but remain camped nearby. If you travel, I will travel with you."

"If you must," said Lannon. "However, if you intend to meet with me again, you should give notice in advance. Otherwise I won't be available."

The Lawkeeper's face turned crimson. "I'm going to loosen my tongue a bit here and speak what's on my mind." He glared at his scribe. "The meeting is officially ended."

The scribe bowed and closed his record book.

The Lawkeeper again fixed his gaze on Lannon. "You're no High Watchman--just a weak puppet leader that should never have been appointed. You're probably in league with the Deep Shadow."

"If the meeting is over," said Lannon, "then leave." He fought down the rising anger. The Lawkeeper seemed to know how to get to him.

"If you haven't fallen to Tharnin," the Lawkeeper went on, "you will do so soon enough. Your kind always does. And that is exactly why King Verlamer has placed you under observation. A Dark Watchman...a monster..."

The words stung Lannon, but he remained passive.

Dallsa leapt up, pointing at the door. "Get out of here before..." She was shaking with rage.

"Before what?" The Lawkeeper rose, and his warriors pressed closer. "Do you want to start a war here and now?"

Jerret stood, knocking his chair over in the process, and drew his sword, his muscles tense and bulging beneath his armor. "I wouldn't mind."

Weapons were drawn or raised throughout the chamber.

Lannon remained seated, however. He rarely drew his blade unless he intended to use it--and he was hoping it wouldn't come to that. Another war was the last thing he wanted, and at the moment, Ollanhar Tower was without most of its fighters.

"Sit down, Dallsa and Jerret!" Aldreya commanded. "That's enough of this nonsense. This will be settled in a calm and rational manner."

Dallsa sat, her eyes smoldering, but Jerret didn't move.

Aldreya gazed at him sternly. "Sheath your sword, Jerret."

Reluctantly, Jerret did as ordered.

Lannon folded his arms across his chest, appearing relaxed. He forced a smile. "Have a pleasant day, Lawkeeper."

For an instant, hatred flickered in the Lawkeeper's green eyes. Then he gathered his books, turned, and bellowed, "Make way!" As his warriors parted, he strode from the chamber. The warriors followed, until the last Thallite Giant had lumbered through the doorway.

### Chapter 6:

The Festival of Souls

The following day was warm and cloudy, with a light sprinkle of rain in the air. Everyone gathered in the tower courtyard around noon at long, polished oak tables adorned with Birlote runes. Furlus and the others had returned victorious, which added to the celebratory mood and made it easier to forget the Lawkeeper's visit. There was much food and drink to indulge in, and a bard on loan from Dremlock played songs now and then, did magic tricks, or read poetry. Orange Squires--servants who were never able to obtain Knighthood--moved about the courtyard serving drinks and replacing empty food platters with full ones.

The Council of Ollanhar sat at one of the tables apart from the others, in wide chairs adorned with the mischievous faces of woodland creatures from the Birlote Tree City of Borenthia, discussing the implications of the Lawkeeper's words. It was a pleasant day, the breeze fresh and the courtyard green and lush around them in the shadow of the mighty, vine-laden tower that rose into the grey sky above them. The sprinkle of rain carried on the breeze helped keep them cool.

Vorden was doing remarkably better. In fact, he seemed almost fully healed as he indulged in beef and potatoes and sipped at a goblet of wine, showing no hint of pain and the color having returned to his skin. He seemed cheerful and full of vigor--with only his yellow eyes serving as a reminder that he would never be completely normal. Dallsa was not happy with his decision to leave his bedchamber, but she had to grudgingly admit that most of his strength had returned.

It was hard not to feel good on this fine day. Furlus Goblincrusher, however, did not seem to be in a festive mood. He sat quietly for a time, gazing sullenly at his mug of ale. At last he muttered, "I sent a Hawk. But it won't make any difference. We will continue our expansion even at the risk of war."

No one really wanted to discuss such grim topics. They wanted to eat, drink, smoke pipes and celebrate the Festival of Souls that would honor all Divine Knights who had died in service of their god. But duty could not be ignored.

"What about our forthcoming journey?" asked Lannon. "In light of this development, should the White Flamestone still go with us? With Bellis threatening war, taking it out of Silverland would seem like pure folly."

"I agree," said Aldreya.

Jace dropped his oversized spoon in bowl of stew with a splash. He was so agitated he accidentally leaned on his bread and smeared butter on his cloak sleeve. "What? Of course it is still going with us! It must!" He paused for a moment, wringing his huge, bony hands together, allowing himself a moment to calm down. "I assure you we will be confronting Bellis on the journey. King Verlamer will seek to make us disappear at land or sea, so that even our bodies will never be found. Without the White Flamestone, how would we survive?"

"Yet how can Dremlock survive?" asked Aldreya, handing Jace a towel, "if Bellis goes to war and we have no Flamestone to defend the kingdom? Our survival is not as important as that of our god and kingdom."

"Perhaps," said Jace. "But remember--there is another Flamestone out there, and we must obtain it before Bellis does. Could you imagine the devastation that would result if King Verlamer gained possession of it? Any lingering hope of preventing Bellis from taking all of Gallamerth and the lands beyond the sea would be crushed. It could mean victory for the Deep Shadow as well."

Lannon couldn't deny that Jace's argument was compelling.

"King Verlamer has sought that Flamestone before," said Aldreya. "And he has failed to obtain it. It may be impossible to remove it from the island. There is something dreadfully dark and dangerous out there. It haunts my dreams. We know very little about it. But war is a reality we have already faced. Without the White Flamestone for protection, Dremlock fell and many Knights perished. It was only because of Verlamer's madness and stupidity in challenging Lannon to a duel that Dremlock is liberated today. He will not make that mistake twice. I am certain that if Dremlock falls to Bellis again, it will truly be the end for us."

"Yet nothing has changed," said Furlus. "We knew that Bellis was unhappy with the expansion before this Lawkeeper arrived. This is just another attempt to scare us into retreating. It is very unlikely that Bellis will publicly break the agreement and make war on us. Instead, they'll continue to use the Goblins and the Blood Legion to try to drive us out of Ollanhar. But as I said, I sent a Hawk and look forward to hearing what our Lord Knight has to say on the matter. Perhaps he will insist the White Flamestone remain here."

"I hope not," said Prince Vannas, with a sigh. "I was really looking forward to this adventure." The handsome Birlote leaned back in his chair, puffing at a pipe. He had been unusually quiet lately, allowing Aldreya and Lannon to make the decisions. He blew a perfect smoke ring that almost tickled Jace's long nose.

Lothrin sat next to the prince and also hadn't spoken much lately--though that was not unusual for Lothrin. The lean warrior often kept to himself (when he wasn't arguing with his cousin Vannas) and spent many hours wandering alone. He was still a Ranger at heart, favoring wild, uninhabited lands and solitude. Yet Lothrin was a wise man whose opinion was as valued as that of his royal cousins.

"I, too, long for adventure," said Lothrin. "But as much as it pains me to say it, our petty desires hold no weight. This is about the future of Dremlock and Gallamerth--a future which lies in great peril."

"Of course," said Vannas, looking slightly annoyed. "As always, I will do whatever is best for our kingdom.

The bard approached their table, grinning, his white-and-purple clothing shimmering as he bowed. His black hair hung in flamboyant curls from beneath his wide hat. He raised his flute to begin a song, but Aldreya dismissed him with a motion of her hand. With another quick bow, he hurried away.

A large golden butterfly with blue swirls on its wings landed on the rim of Lannon's silver goblet. Lannon watched it in amusement until Furlus leaned over with a scowl and blew a puff of air on it, sending it into flight. The confused butterfly then landed in Furlus' bushy beard. The Grey Dwarf plucked it out and tossed it into the air, where it flew off.

"What is best for this kingdom," Furlus muttered, "is for us to go and retrieve that Flamestone. Then, with two Flamestones at our command, Bellis will truly fear us. I am certain Taris will agree with me. The Flamestones are the greatest weapons in all the land, greater even than anything the Olrogs or Thallites could invent. They belong to the Divine Essence--our god, whose word is law--and thus they belong to Dremlock. We have every right to lay claim to them."

"Say no more," said Prince Vannas, smiling. "I will be happy to use the power of the White Flamestone to defeat any enemies who seek to interfere with our quest. And I will attempt to use that same power as a guide."

"How?" asked Aldreya, looking puzzled.

"All of the Flamestones are linked," said the prince. "They're all part of the White Guardian. It stands to reason that one Flamestone could be aware of the presence of another. It's certainly worth putting to the test."

Jace nodded. "It just might be possible! Perhaps your Flamestone can lead us directly to the other one, no matter how well hidden it us."

"You're just guessing, though," said Bekka. "You don't actually have any evidence that it will work."

"I don't need evidence," said Prince Vannas, with a smug look. "My heart tells me it is so. My instincts tell me. That is all I need."

Bekka shook her head. She was taller than Vannas and more muscular, with broad shoulders and very dark skin. Not easily impressed by words, she demanded proof whenever someone made boasts. "If I trusted my heart every time it told me something, it would have been cut out long ago."

Prince Vannas nodded. "But that's you, Norack. I am a Birlote, and a Birlote can trust his heart to lead him to the truth."

"Agreed," said Aldreya, pride in her voice. "A Birlote's instincts are not to be taken lightly. We can sense things Noracks and Olrogs cannot."

"Believe what you will," said Bekka, "but until I see some evidence that this White Flamestone can actually guide us, I won't be relying on it."

"Nor will I," said Jerret.

"It doesn't matter," said Furlus. "Whether it can guide you or not, the journey will likely proceed." He winked at Bekka and muttered in a low voice, "But I wouldn't trust a Birlote's instincts either."

"Exactly," Daledus Oakfist mumbled in response. The brawny Dwarf had three mugs of ale and a heaping platter of beef in front of him.

The Birlotes frowned but said nothing.

***

They enjoyed the remainder of the afternoon, avoiding any serious topics of conversation and instead focusing on the food and entertainment. The clouds parted in the afternoon and left blue sky overhead, while the pleasant breeze continued to keep them cool. It was shaping up to be a wonderful evening for sitting beneath the stars and partaking in the Festival of Souls. There was not a Goblin to be seen within miles of Ollanhar (though the Lawkeeper and his warriors were camped just beyond the oak grove), and an attack seemed unlikely.

As nightfall settled over the land, they built a huge bonfire that sent sparks soaring into the starry heavens. The tables were laden with all manner of food, though all but the heartiest eaters had already tired of feasting. Wine and ale poured constantly into mugs and goblets, and a few of the Knights had already lapsed into slumber for the evening, seated at tables. (It was considered unacceptable for a Knight to drink until unable to sit or stand--though the rule was often broken without consequence if the circumstances were right.)

Aldreya, Dallsa, and Lannon sat apart from the others. Never willing to drink alcohol, Lannon sipped sweetened milk from a goblet--a special Birlote beverage that was supposed to invigorate him. However, it had the opposite effect in that it quickly made him tired. The milk was delicious, though, and he drank three servings of it before he grew dizzy. Puzzled, he found himself thinking strange thoughts--admiring Aldreya's beauty and wondering why she looked so perfect. He kept staring at her until he noticed that Dallsa was glaring at him, and then he looked away, feeling somewhat embarrassed.

"Are you okay, Lannon?" Dallsa asked, frowning. "You seem to be watching our Green Knight rather intently."

Aldreya seemed to take no notice, however, her eyes fixed on the bard as he sang and danced.

"It's nothing," said Lannon, waving at her. His words sounded strange to him--distant. "You know I only have eyes for you."

Dallsa looked shocked (though delighted).

Lannon was startled by his words. He realized he wasn't entirely in control of his thoughts or actions. He gazed at his goblet of Birlote milk, wondering what the beverage contained. One of the Blue Knights had given it to him with a grin and a wink, stating that if Lannon didn't like wine or ale then he might as well have some truly invigorating milk. Suddenly the truth dawned on Lannon.

"I'm drunk!" he mumbled.

Dallsa's expression darkened. "Oh, I see."

Aldreya glanced at Lannon. "It must be Greeule Milk. Yes, you should slow down a bit on drinking it. It is very potent."

"I had no idea," said Lannon, irritated that the Blue Knight had duped him into doing something he had sworn never to do. He reached for the goblet to push it away and knocked it over, spilling it into Dallsa's lap.

With a disgusted sigh, Dallsa moved to another table.

Lannon shook his head helplessly, then took to gazing at Aldreya again. He regretted offending Dallsa, but he could barely keep his eyes off the radiant Birlote girl. In the back of his mind, he knew he was ignoring the Sacred Laws by taking such an interest in her, but his gaze seemed hopelessly locked in place.

Aldreya smiled at him. "You will sleep well this night. Had I known what was in your goblet, I would have warned you."

"Thank you," he said, though his words seemed meaningless. "Your hair is amazing. I've never said this before, but the silver curls..."

She didn't respond, but her fiery green eyes drew him in. He could glimpse the depths of her power shining in her gaze--not just the power of sorcery, but the natural energy that all Birlotes possessed. He wanted to touch her hair, but his Knightly training was too strong to allow it even under these circumstances. Or was it? He found himself leaning closer to her until his lips were inches away from hers. Hopelessly lost to her spell, he gave in and attempted to kiss her.

"Lannon!" The sharp tone broke the spell.

Startled, Lannon leaned back swiftly and nearly tipped his chair over. Aldreya was gazing at him sternly. "Control yourself."

He bowed. "Of course. For a moment I...lost myself."

She nodded. "For a moment, you did." He glimpsed an amused twinkle in her eyes, but couldn't make sense of it. Was she toying with him?

Aldreya focused on the bard again, while Lannon sat pondering how to regain control. The High Watchman of Ollanhar was acting like a drunken fool, and that was unacceptable.

Aldreya pushed a platter of bread and cheese toward him. "Eat. It will help you overcome the milk."

Lannon wasn't hungry, but he did as she instructed.

Meanwhile, the bard told stories of legendary battles against the realm of Tharnin:

"The giant known as Winilwero the Proud stalked the hills, valleys, and forests for more than one-hundred years, slaying Divine Knights and bringing chaos to the land. He boasted of his immortality, and time and again some of the greatest Knights were slain by his mighty hammer or crushed in his arms.

"Winilwero brought the storms with him wherever he roamed--the fog and the rain, the wind and the lightning. The storm itself was a great beast of Tharnin, always hovering above him and darkening the land with shadow. The giant won many great victories, and at last in his arrogance he sought to topple Dremlock Kingdom.

"Raising an army of Blood Legion warriors and Goblins, Winilwero the Proud lay siege to the mountain with the intent to rip down our gates by brute force. Yet there he was met by Quintalus Redlance, the legendary Lord Knight of Dremlock, and the two fought a duel for the fate of our kingdom.

"Blow after blow was struck, but the divine armor of our Lord Knight did not give way, and at last his burning sword pierced the giant's heart. Winilwero was found to not be immortal after all, as he could not stop the bleeding and bled his life away for hours until death finally claimed him.

"The giant's body was burned to ash--a process that took days--and his huge hammer and armor are still displayed in the Hall of Battles, which is only opened once every seven years..."

Lannon yawned, grateful there were no giants as powerful as Winilwero the Proud in his day and age (at least none he had encountered yet). He forced some more food down, striving to free his mind of the milk-induced fog. He didn't like the feeling of being enslaved by his choice of drink and was concerned he might say or do something that would damage his reputation. However, no one was paying much attention to him with all the merrymaking going on.

The Festival of Souls continued into the night, as a few more warriors took to snoring for the evening--victims of too much wine and ale. Furlus Goblincrusher ordered a new weapon rolled forth--a mighty crossbow that fired ten spear-length arrows at once and could be rapidly reloaded. It was a fantastic Dwarven invention that gleamed menacingly in the light of the bonfire, the huge arrows ready to launch with the pull of a lever.

"I call this the Dragon Claw," said Furlus, standing before the weapon. "It is made almost entirely of steel and yet, in spite of that, is amazingly light thanks to its slender design." He traced his fingers over the narrow beams. "It cannot be easily burned or broken. The arrows can pierce multiple foes at once, doing tremendous damage. Let Bellis fear this weapon!"

The crowd roared in approval. They wanted a demonstration, but with no suitable target on hand, Furlus declined.

"I challenge it," said Daledus, leaping up and knocking over his chair in the process. The Dwarf waved his ale mug toward the siege engine. "If this weapon is so mighty, why does it fire the arrows in such a tight bunch? Enemies could easily evade the volley. It lacks accuracy and is therefore unworthy of battle--unless the foe is a single large target. Perhaps it would work against a troll."

Furlus' eyes blazed. "The arrows can be adjusted so they spread out." He demonstrated by turning a crank, and the ten arrows separated a bit. "And furthermore," he roared, "they can be made to fire all at once or one at a time. And this crossbow is incredibly accurate. Many tests on oak barrels have proven that. So is your challenge answered?"

Daledus bowed and said: "Indeed. The Olrogs once again triumph by inventing something even Bellis will envy. We make the greatest weapons and armor, and we are the strongest!"

Galvia raised her war hammer. "We always win the test of strength at the Festival of Souls!"

Aldreya looked amused. "Of course you do, with Furlus competing."

"Yet I will not compete this time," said Furlus. The crowd booed. "I leave it to you younger warriors to prove yourselves."

Daledus flexed his arms. "Then I have already won."

Jerret rose and strode over to the stocky Dwarf, gazing down at him. "Is that so? He flexed his own muscle-laden arms. "I think not."

Daledus laughed. "No Norack can beat a Dwarf in a test of strength. It has never been done. You've got some meat on your arms--I'll give you that. But with that weak Norack blood in your veins, surely you will falter."

Some of the other Knights who felt they had a chance rose and made their boasts. But Aldreya waved at them dismissively.

"Can any of you defeat Lannon?" she asked, smiling. "Our High Watchman may wish to show his strength."

Lannon shook his head, wanting no part of it. Such competitions did not appeal to him. He had no interest in proving himself.

Daledus frowned. "We all know Lannon cannot be easily defeated in a test of sorcery. But his strength is granted by the Divine Essence. This is a test of raw muscle--no sorcery allowed."

"Just pure strength," said Jerret, nodding. "Perfect."

"Daledus is correct," said Furlus. "Any use of sorcery is cheating. This must be done by pure mental focus and physical might."

"Then bring forth the weights," said Daledus.

A number of heavy, rectangular iron blocks with rings welded to them were laid in the clearing, ranging widely in weight. The Knights gathered around--some of whom had come from Dremlock specifically for this competition--and they started with the lightest weights. With each attempt, a pair of rings was seized and a block lifted overhead. If a Knight failed to make the lift and allowed the block to touch the ground, that Knight was disqualified. Faces were crimson with strain as the warriors fought to push the weights overhead. Some of the Knights faltered, their arms shaking as weights dropped to the earth. Some fought valiantly to keep the weights above ground, bending and twisting their bodies beneath, but they were unable to make the lift and inevitably had to surrender.

Two of the women--Bekka and Galvia--outlasted some of the men to enormous cheers from the crowd, until they too were at last eliminated. Soon only a handful of the strongest Knights remained, including Jerret and Daledus. Vorden--who possessed unnatural strength and who was possibly still afflicted with a serious injury--was forced to stay out of the competition.

As the weights grew heavier, more Knights faltered--until at last only Jerret and Daledus remained. The two made absurd boasts and stared each other down, as the crowd laughed and cheered.

"Not bad for a beardless weakling," said Daledus. "But surely you cannot go on. Perhaps you should quit before you injure yourself. I don't want you crying on me because you strained your back." He held his lower back and paced about like he was in agony, as the Knights roared laughter.

Jerret grinned and stroked the stubble on his chin to show that he did indeed possess a beard. "Getting longer by the day."

Daledus waved him away. "The face of a baby."

"Keep talking," said Jerret, shaking his head in amusement. "If the rest of your body is as tireless as your jaws, perhaps I will indeed be defeated."

The Knights again roared laughter.

With a grunt, Daledus lifted a weight that could have equaled four large Knights. His teeth clenched in strain, he heaved the huge piece of iron overhead--using his short body as an advantage. He paused, eyes on Aldreya. She signaled that it was a good lift, and he dropped the weight and stepped back, staggering.

"Alas," he panted, "you are finished! And I'm not even sober!"

"I've had my share of ale," said Jerret, as he seized the weight. With a ferocious effort, he managed to heave it overhead.

Only one weight remained--the heaviest of all that only a few elite Knights had ever lifted. As Daledus made the attempt, his body nearly buckled from the strain, but somehow he put forth a superhuman effort and made the lift. As the weight thudded to the ground, Daledus fell silent, his chest heaving. There was no need for boasting now. He had proven himself.

Jerret studied the weight, his eyes fierce with focus. If he could lift it and earn a tie, the winner would be decided in a wrestling match--and Jerret was extremely skilled at wrestling.

He seized the weight and put forth a colossal effort, and for a moment it looked as if he could not fail. But then unexpectedly his shaking body sagged beneath the massive strain. He held on valiantly for a moment, refusing to surrender--his face crimson and his neck muscles bulging. But he had nothing left. He let the weight drop in disgust.

Daledus watched him somberly, holding off on celebrating as he waited to see how Jerret would react.

Jerret's face darkened and his hands knotted into fists. He wasn't used to defeat. No one spoke, and tension filled the air. Then his expression softened into a grin. "I guess I do need a longer beard after all!" He grabbed Daledus' arm and raised it. "The strongest Knight of all, Daledus Oakfist!"

The crowd roared in approval.

But Daledus shook his head. "I reject that title--as long as I have yet to test myself against Furlus Goblincrusher."

Furlus waved him away. "Nonsense. You have proven yourself, and should enjoy your evening. Have some more ale."

Daledus' face was grim. "Knowing I haven't defeated you, I cannot celebrate. There will be no joy for me."

Furlus sneered and leaned forward, his massive arms bulging beneath his green tunic. "You should have that ale, before things turn sour for you. You did well with the weights. You've earned the right to...talk."

"Yet it is just talk, as you say," said Daledus. "What value is there in talk? I want to defeat Furlus Goblincrusher in a test of strength."

The crowd agreed with Daledus.

Furlus pushed aside his ale mug and rose, smoothing out his huge beard. "So, I must play the role of the spoiler this night--and a put a champion in his place. If that's how it must be. Who am I to refuse a good challenge?"

"I will squeeze you like a bear!" growled Daledus. "No one has ever broken my grasp! It cannot be done!"

Furlus strode over to Daledus and turned his back on him. "Then squeeze, young bear. Show Furlus Goblincrusher that he is an old fool who has grown weak. Shame me in front of my Knights!"

"I will shame you!" Daledus bellowed, seizing him from behind.

They roared and grunted, twisting about, and for a moment it looked as if Daledus might claim victory. But Furlus at last broke free and, in a swift spin move, turned the tables on Daledus, snaring him in a hold of his own from behind. Now it was Daledus who sought to break free.

"I warned you!" Furlus growled, his arms locked in place.

As they staggered from strain (and the effects of hours of ale drinking), Daledus got too close to the bonfire. The Knights yelled a warning but it was too late. Daledus' beard caught fire.

Furlus yanked him away from the flames and released him. The Knights quickly doused his beard with water, but the damage had been done.

Half of Daledus' beard was burned off.

Daledus clutched what remained of his beard in horror. Then, his face reddened with humiliation, he fled into the shadows.

Furlus smiled. "A lesson learned the hard way."

Next, the crowd wanted a display of power from Lannon that would truly mark the beginning of the Festival of Souls--as the High Watchman had done at the celebration in ancient times. Lannon was still trying to clear his mind from the Greeule Milk, but the crowd was so insistent that at last he rose and bowed.

"I'll do my best," he promised them.

Lannon considered his options, then approached the bonfire. Shielding his body with the Eye of Divinity, he reached into the flames and pulled out a piece of smoldering wood. He held forth the mass of crimson coals, focusing his power into his hand to keep his flesh from burning.

The crowd cheered.

"Behold!" said Furlus. "Only a Knight truly blessed by the Divine Essence can touch the fire and not be burned. We will hold a moment of silence in honor of our god, and then Aldreya will begin the honoring of the dead."

Everyone sat with heads bowed for a time, and then Aldreya rose and threw something into the fire. The flames turned green and white, and small glowing orbs like ghostly lights emerged to float about the clearing.

***

The Festival of Souls went on past midnight.

At some point, Aldreya roused Lannon from a light slumber by squeezing his shoulder. He gazed at her questioningly.

"What's going on?" he asked. The serious expression on Aldreya's face startled him. The Knights who remained were asleep at the tables, and the bonfire had returned to its natural color and had died down some. A warm breeze blew through the clearing beneath the stars.

"It is time to leave," she whispered. "Furlus and I had planned it so we would depart in the dead of night. Our goal is keep Bellis from knowing that the White Flamestone is leaving Silverland."

"But Bellis will eventually learn the truth," Lannon pointed out. "King Verlamer has spies everywhere--even inside Dremlock."

"Yes," she said. "But hopefully we will be deep into our journey by then. Our supplies have already been gathered at the stable."

Lannon yawned, feeling a bit weary for travel. He was annoyed that he had been kept in the dark. Didn't the High Watchman deserve better? "I would have preferred to know. I didn't have time to prepare."

"I apologize," said Aldreya. "It was my decision, and Furlus did not agree with it. I wanted absolute secrecy and was afraid you might accidentally reveal our plans. The truth is, Lannon, sometimes you are not as careful about guarding secrets as you should be."

It was true. Lannon wasn't fond of hiding things from his trusted friends, whereas it didn't seem to bother Aldreya at all.

"If you're ready, we should depart," she said. "Everyone else is at the stable, waiting for us. I allowed you to sleep as long as I could, but the night will soon give way to dawn. Is there anything you require from the tower?"

Lannon considered it, then shook his head. He had everything he needed--his Birlote cloak and his weapons. "I'm ready."

Lannon glanced about. Furlus was gone. Four Knights were awake and keeping watch. His eyes lingered on Ollanhar Tower, a great shadowy bulk outlined against the stars. Leaving his home in the care of others made him anxious, but he reminded himself that Furlus was more than capable of defending the keep.

"Come," said Aldreya, tugging at his sleeve.

The two of them started across the field.

The bard, who was seated in the grass with his back against a barrel, suddenly opened his eyes. He lifted his wide-brimmed hat, shook a moth from it, and placed it on his head. He winked at Aldreya. "Have a good journey."

"We're merely going for a walk," Aldreya replied.

The bard chuckled, his eyes shining. "Enjoy your walk, then, my young friends...however far it takes you and to whatever end. My lips shall reveal nothing. Would you like me to play a melody for you?" He lifted his flute.

Aldreya gazed at the bard for a moment, looking annoyed. "Go back to sleep. It is late."

He bowed and lowered the brim of his hat over his face.

They moved on past him.

"So much for secrecy," Lannon whispered.

She shrugged. "We do what we can."

"I'll bet the Knights are tired," said Lannon, "considering all the merrymaking. Are you sure it's a wise decision to leave on this night?"

"Yes," she replied, "for the Lawkeeper is camped nearby. He will not be expecting us to depart during the Festival. This is a great opportunity to slip away unnoticed. We will ride until morning and then rest in a forest until noon."

"I hope that bard isn't a spy of Bellis," said Lannon.

He was only speaking in jest, but for a moment Aldreya hesitated--as if considering his words. Then she continued on.

The quest for the Flamestone had begun.

Lannon's weariness gave way to excitement. He was at last leaving on an adventure again, wondering what awaited him in strange lands where Divine Knights would be looked upon as mysterious intruders.

But he didn't allow himself to get too excited, considering the perils that awaited them. Bellis would be there with its sprawling legions of soldiers intent upon dominating all the land. This was a desperate quest from a desperate kingdom struggling to survive against overwhelming evil.

### Chapter 7:

The Departure without Glory

Lannon and Aldreya walked the forest trail, carefully stepping over roots, fallen limbs, and loose stones. They carried no light source, with Lannon relying on the Eye of Divinity for guidance and Aldreya staying close to him. They moved like silent shadows beneath the sprawling tree branches, two of the most powerful warriors in all the land yet lost beneath the ancient trees that had seen many legendary fighters come and go. The breeze ruffled the treetops periodically, but otherwise there was deep stillness in the woods.

A crashing noise arose in the brush nearby. In an instant, Lannon's bone-sword was in hand, a pale weapon in the starlight that filtered down through the branches, and Aldreya held her stone dagger close to her chest in the traditional stance of a sorcerer. The stench of the Deep Shadow hung in the air--along with a physical stench that could easily have been from a Goblin.

Something moved again in the brush, more silently this time--attempting to hide its presence. It seemed to be moving away from them.

Lannon scanned the woods, but glimpsed nothing beyond weak traces of dark sorcery that could have been old. Whatever had made the noise was beyond his range. "Could just be a wolf or a bear," he whispered, "startled by our presence."

"No, a creature of the Deep Shadow lurks here," said Aldreya. "The stench of evil is very fresh. But is this a foe stalking us? Or just some Goblin wandering around outside the Bloodlands?"

Lannon shrugged. "I sense it's not very powerful--maybe a Tree Goblin. Probably nothing to worry about." He yawned, wanting only to get to the stable and start the journey so he could rest in the saddle. The Birlote milk had left him feeling both tired and a bit ill, with a throbbing headache. Dealing with some petty Goblin was just an annoyance that Lannon wanted no part of.

Aldreya sniffed the air, then shook her head. "The stench is too strong for a Tree Goblin, and the creature is far too noisy. Tree Goblins move quietly through the treetops. It is something bigger--perhaps a Wolf or a Jackal. Wait here, Lannon. I'm going to see if I can hunt it down."

Aldreya's dagger emitted a faint greenish glow, and she slipped into the forest without a sound. How she was able to walk silently across crunchy leaves was beyond Lannon's comprehension. Even a fully trained Blue Knight made a bit of noise when moving over dry leaves. He wondered if all Birlotes were capable of that feat, or if it had something to do with her sorcery. He thought back to all the times Shennen Silverarrow--the famous Blue Knight and assassin--had moved so silently over any surface, and he decided it was a Birlote skill.

Lannon waited patiently, sword leaning on his shoulder. A few moments passed, and then he heard another crash that was followed by an inhuman screech. A green fireball shot up through the trees and struck something.

A moment later, a burning shadow swooped down into the trail--a Goblin Vulture partially engulfed in green fire, a winged monstrosity with a humanoid face, bulbous black eyes, and a mouth that resembled a bloody gash from which a deadly beak extended. Its eyes gleaming with hatred, it dove for Lannon--a final, desperate act. The beast knew it was doomed and wanted only to take Lannon's life before its own burned into ash.

The beast's flaming wings beat frantically, Aldreya's sorcerous fire quickly melting flesh from bone. The Vulture was tremendously resilient, its will and hatred holding it together long enough to reach Lannon. With a gurgling hiss, it hurtled from the sky like a bloated spear, beak aimed at Lannon's chest.

It was such a swift and frantic dive that a lesser warrior might have been caught off guard and been pierced. But the Eye of Divinity sprang to life on instinct, guiding Lannon's movements. As the Vulture closed in, Lannon dodged and cut off the beast's head. The Vulture's body dropped to the dirt and lay burning, while the detached head continued to glare at him, a spark of life lingering in the black eyes. With a shudder, Lannon kicked the head into the forest.

Aldreya stepped into the trail. She gazed at the pile of ash that had once been their foe, a look of contemplation on her face. "A spy of Bellis or the Blood Legion, no doubt. It was probably trying to escape and warn of our plans."

"Can Vultures communicate like that?" asked Lannon. He had always assumed they lacked such intelligence.

She nodded. "With enough training, it can be done. A Vulture can deliver a simple message."

"Regardless," said Lannon, "no message will be delivered on this night." He cleaned his sword and then sheathed it.

"I'm not so sure about that," said Aldreya. "When the beast took flight, I glimpsed another shadow soar over the treetops. It could have been another Vulture or some other winged spy."

***

They reached the stable without further incident, where their horses were already prepared for the journey. The Knights of Ollanhar--including Daledus, who stood apart from the others--were gathered in a crowd waiting for the arrival of their leaders. They wore cloaks over their armor, and no banners of Dremlock were displayed. This was strange to Lannon, not at all like the festive departures the Divine Knights typically received. There was no one to cheer them on--just tired, sullen warriors slipping off into the shadows.

Furlus Goblincrusher, looking tired, was there to speak a few words of encouragement to the crowd. Then he added, "Unfortunately, the Nine Axes have not arrived yet. Their whereabouts are not known."

This news seemed to alarm Aldreya. "Should we delay the journey? I want to make sure the tower is well defended in our absence."

"No need for that," said Furlus. "I suspect they may have gotten sidetracked by a few of the taverns along the way. This quest is long overdue. Let Taris and I worry about Ollanhar. If you want to truly defend the tower, then bring back that Flamestone. Only then will we be assured of defeating Bellis."

Aldreya reported the incident with the Vulture, but Furlus seemed to dismiss it as unimportant.

"All that matters now is the Flamestone," he said, his bearded face somber in the lantern light. "You must retrieve it at all costs."

"Is something troubling you, Furlus?" asked Lannon.

"Many things trouble me," said Furlus, with a shrug.

"I was referring to something specific," said Lannon. "Something that would cause an immediate need for this new Flamestone."

"Yes," said Furlus, "but I am not allowed speak of it. If we fail to obtain the Flamestone, Dremlock will surely be doomed."

"We will not fail," said Prince Vannas. "My own Flamestone will make sure of it and guide us through fog and shadow and raging sea."

"I believe in you, my cousin," said Lothrin, patting the prince on the back. "Victory will be ours."

"We will find a way," said Vorden. "We always do."

"Such talk is pointless," said Bekka. "We have no idea what awaits us in distant lands. We're all powerful fighters, certainly, but we may be overmatched beyond the mountains of Silverland." In spite of being new to the group, Bekka had no issue with speaking her mind. She made no effort to fit in, but simply lived as the warrior she had always been.

Jace nodded. His huge form blocked out the lantern light. "Bekka is correct. Overconfidence will be our downfall. We cannot go on this journey expecting an easy victory. We will need our wits to survive."

"Who needs wits," said Daledus, his eyes sullen, "when we have this?" He balled up his meaty fist. "I'll crack a few jaws before this quest is ended!"

No one replied to the angry Dwarf. They just let him talk.

"Good luck to you, my friends," said Furlus. "May the Divine Essence watch over you and bless your journey so that you return victorious. May it shine its light on you when the darkness seems impenetrable and reveal a path."

"We're all tired," said Aldreya. "But we must ride out. Are you ready, Lannon?"

Lannon nodded. It was time to depart.

### Chapter 8:

The Joust for the Pale Hammer

After leaving the stable under cover of darkness, they journeyed through the hill country for a few days, and it appeared that no enemies followed or were aware of their departure. No spies were spotted on land or in the sky, and the weather was fair for traveling, with only a couple of light rain showers. The days were warm, the grassy hills ruffled by pleasant breezes, and camping was peaceful and relaxing beneath the stars. There was plenty of good food and drink.

But the hill country was strange, and there were dangers to be found if one wandered from the path, even in the light of day.

Jace kept a diary of their journey:

"Seemingly endless stretches of the unknown greet our vision, beneath the infinite sky. Here stand hills with rocky ruins poking out of them like bones--how ancient I cannot imagine. Who can guess what odd curses of the Deep Shadow are found within the crumbling walls, waiting like poisonous serpents to strike anyone who dares enter? Even the oldest Trolls who wander the hillsides have no memory of these lairs. And this is only the beginning, for soon we will encounter lands where even I have never wandered, where the familiar is utterly lost to us..."

On the fourth day, the danger that surrounded them was at last revealed, as one of the Blue Knights--Faindan Stillsword--made the mistake of poking around in some ancient ruins when the travelers were camped for lunch, and he became infected by a disease of the Deep Shadow. His left hand turned red and swelled to twice its normal size, causing him pain as if from fire. He moaned and cursed, rolling around in the grass and begging for someone to knock him unconscious. Dallsa did her best to treat the infection, but she couldn't calm the burning agony.

"My curse is bitter!" Faindan groaned. "The pain is unbearable!" The hand was so tender that if he bumped it against anything--even slightly--he screamed. He held it in the air, but his arm was clearly growing tired, his elbow sagging.

Faindan finally seemed to calm down a bit--until a large fly landed on the swollen hand. Then he howled and writhed about.

"Stop moving, Faindan," Dallsa said, as she fought to hold him still. "All this thrashing around isn't going to help."

Lannon and some of the others gathered in a circle around him on this bright and sunny day, giving each other helpless glances. Faindan was a handsome young Knight with black hair and blue eyes. He was extremely likable, and the others desperately wanted to help him. But the answer eluded them.

"Daledus," Faindan croaked. "Use your fist on me, my friend. End this wretched pain with one stout blow!"

Daledus shook his head. The Dwarf's broad face held a sad expression. "I wish I could help you, but you don't want a blow from my fist, Faindan. You might not get up again."

Faindan groaned. "I don't care, just strike me."

"Nobody is going to strike you, Faindan," said Dallsa. "I'm going to cure you, if you'll stop fighting me. I can drive out the curse."

"I'm sorry about your agony, Faindan," said Aldreya. "Yet I have faith that Dallsa can indeed heal you." In a commanding tone, she added, "You will simply lay still and allow her to treat the infection. That's an order."

Faindan didn't answer. His teeth were clenched.

At last Faindan reached toward Lannon--extending the bloated, crimson hand that looked as if it were covered in scales. "Help me, High Watchman!"

"I wish there was something I could do," said Lannon. "Unfortunately, I cannot cure your condition. Dallsa has the power, though."

"What about medication?" asked Vorden, standing with his arms folded across his armored chest. Vorden was a thinker and never liked to give up on anyone. "Surely there must be something that can dull the pain."

"Nothing I know of," said Dallsa. "This type of infection is based entirely on dark sorcery. It takes sorcery to cure it."

"Can it be fatal?" asked Lannon, whispering to Dallsa.

"Not likely," Dallsa whispered back. "I believe the infection has the goal of causing him misery and perhaps contaminating his mind, subduing his will, and darkening his dreams. It is a curse against life--a very nasty thing to encounter, as it could be considered a fate worse than death."

"Can you stand up, Faindan?" asked Aldreya. As she stood with her silver curls blowing in the breeze, there was no pity in her gaze. She seemed as cold as ice--an unfathomable mage in her green cloak--yet Lannon knew she had a caring heart and was concerned for everyone around her. However, she expected Divine Knights to act appropriately--to perhaps even act as a Birlote would and put the agony aside for the sake of duty.

Faindan shook his head. "I just want to lay here."

"I can help him to his horse," said Lannon. He started forward.

"No one will help him," said Aldreya, seizing Lannon's arm. "His hand is infected, but his legs will carry him to his horse."

"I don't like it," said Jerret, who was seated on a rock. "Why make him more miserable by having to stand and walk on his own? And how is he supposed to climb into the saddle when he can't touch anything?"

Aldreya fixed her stern gaze on Jerret. "No one is to be coddled on this journey, or we will not survive. We must face our hardships and overcome them. I have seen other Knights overcome pain to this degree by will alone. Our training allows for such feats."

"But this is cruel," said Vorden. "Why put Faindan through more misery than necessary? You've changed, Aldreya. You've become like other Birlote sorcerers who grow in power and forget what it's like to struggle."

She didn't reply and showed no emotion.

The other Knights exchanged tense looks.

"Don't my words mean anything to you?" asked Vorden. "The old Aldreya would have at least given me a heated argument."

"You don't understand Birlotes," Aldreya replied, "and you never will. So there is no point in trying to make you understand. We grow and change. We become who we were meant to be. Do not mistake that for a bad thing."

"There is no need for insults, Vorden," said Lannon. "Aldreya is our leader and we must respect her decisions."

"No insult intended," said Vorden. "Just giving a humble opinion."

"I have a humble opinion too," said Jerret, "that I would like to voice."

Aldreya nodded. "Feel free."

"Don't take this the wrong way," said Jerret, "but you Birlotes think Noracks are weak and cannot endure great hardships."

She glared at him. "We aren't children anymore, Jerret. Don't try to bait me into a discussion of Birlotes versus Noracks--not when my favorite warrior in all the land is standing next to me and happens to be a Norack." She nudged Lannon.

"I'm your favorite warrior?" said Lannon, surprised.

Aldreya nodded. "I trust you like no other, Lannon."

Jerret bowed. "My apologies, Green Knight." His voice was heavy with sarcasm. "But I still don't think Faindan should be forced to move without help. As a Red Knight, I am often called a barbarian--but I am not a savage."

"Nor am I," said Galvia. "We should help him, Aldreya. There is no shame in giving comfort to an injured warrior."

"Yes, help me," Faindan pleaded. "Don't let me suffer."

"This is ridiculous," said Prince Vannas, giving Aldreya a glare. "You're letting your power turn you cold. I feel rather disgusted by this, and I'm glad I'm not a sorcerer. The Royal Family would not approve."

For an instant, a hint of doubt appeared in Aldreya's eyes. By the bloodline of the Birlote Royal Family, Prince Vannas outranked her. His opinion held great weight with her and always would. But at Ollanhar, she was the Green Knight and he was forced to obey her commands. It was an awkward situation.

Lothrin and Bekka said nothing, but they looked uncomfortable.

"You might be right, Aldreya," said Dallsa. "As cruel as it seems, Faindan needs to find his strength." But she appeared doubtful.

At last, Aldreya looked to Lannon for his input.

"I have to agree with the others," said Lannon. He quickly added, "I mean, about whether or not we should help Faindan. I understand your reasoning, Aldreya, but it's the way of Divine Knights to assist each other."

She nodded. "I see. I am overruled. Very well, give him whatever assistance he wants, but you won't be doing him any favors. It will likely take a toll on him. But I have said enough." She turned about rigidly and walked away.

Vorden shook his head. "She has definitely grown colder."

"I disagree," said Lannon. "She's just strong in her beliefs, Vorden. She has a lot of responsibilities and must make many tough decisions." But Vorden was right in that Aldreya had indeed changed. She had become much more like Taris Warhawk lately--confident, commanding, and seemingly full of wisdom, but also stern and strange to those around her. But she hadn't yet earned the enormous respect that was given to Taris, and her decisions were bound to be questioned.

Jace approached them, pipe in hand. He towered over the Knights, gazing down at Faindan. "Nasty little curse you have there. Would you like a bucket of water to dip that hand in--cool it down a bit?"

"Yes!" Faindan said excitedly. "Bring water!"

"Bad idea," said Jace. "Water will only make it worse. Anything you try will make it worse. Nothing to do but wait it out, young man, and let the healer do her work." Jace puffed his pipe and grinned. "At least it's another beautiful day, curse or not." With that, he wandered away.

Together, Jerret and Vorden helped Faindan up and took him to his horse. The young Blue Knight continued to twist and groan, as he was heaved into the saddle. He ignored the reins and instead hunkered down, sweat dripping from his brow as he struggled against the smoldering pain--but the mighty Greywind horse would bear him along on its own.

As they rode off through the hills, Faindan cursed them and begged them for help, but Dallsa had done all she could for the day and needed rest. He whimpered and moaned, threatening to fling himself from the saddle. Faindan was an elite Blue Knight, and his behavior was terribly embarrassing to the others. It brought shame upon the whole party.

Daledus--who was Faindan's good friend--rode with his head bowed, a dismayed look on his face. If Daledus' partially burned beard didn't bring him enough shame, now there was this.

Lannon, however, felt nothing but pity for Faindan. It was at times like these that the Eye of Divinity seemed inadequate. For all its power, it lacked the ability to heal or drive out curses in others--or if it did possess such abilities, Lannon was not able to access them. He hated feeling so helpless.

As they entered a stretch of forest, Faindan fell silent. This brought great relief to the others, who couldn't bear to witness a Divine Knight crying over pain and making childish threats. The Knights took to talking and laughing, enjoying the pleasant day. Lannon thought perhaps Faindan was recovering.

Then Faindan cried out and fell from the saddle. He lay on the ground for a moment in the trail, his chest heaving, and then rose. His face bore a hideous grin, and he held a bloody sword in one hand. His other hand--the infected and swollen one--was severed from his wrist and lay in the dirt.

"Good riddance!" Faindan bellowed. "I am free!"

The Knights groaned. Aldreya swung down from her horse to retrieve the hand, which could be stored away and later reattached by the healers of Dremlock. But Faindan was having none of it. His sword erupted into sorcerous fire, and he quickly burned the severed hand into ash.

"Foolish," Aldreya said. "Now you are less of a warrior."

"But I am free!" Faindan laughed. "The agony is gone!" It was a shocking reminder of the evil and power of the Deep Shadow.

"Faindan, what have you done?" said Daledus, shaking his head in disbelief. "A Blue Knight with only one hand? You have ruined yourself!"

Bekka's face bore a look of disgust. "I helped train you, Faindan. I saw your great potential. How could you do this to yourself?"

It was indeed a sad event, for Faindan was one of the most talented young Knights at Dremlock. A Blue Knight needed two hands to be successful, and by surrendering to the agony, Faindan had all but destroyed his promising career--and soon the truth would strike him hard.

"I warned of this," said Aldreya, to the others. "I sought to strengthen his will, and the rest of you stood against me. Now you see the result."

The Knights sat with bowed heads and gloomy expressions.

Dallsa bandaged the wound. "The stump will heal, Faindan. But your hand won't grow back. Why didn't you listen to me?"

With a bit of struggle, Faindan returned to the saddle. "I feel much better now, my friends. This is pain that I can tolerate, and the wound will heal soon with a bit of meditation. I can continue on and fight with one hand. I...I want to be part of this great quest and return victorious to Ollanhar."

"No, Faindan," said Aldreya. "You would only ride to your doom. You will return to Dremlock, where the High Council will decide your fate. But I am convinced your days as a Blue Knight are finished."

Faindan looked horrified. "But...but I was in so much pain. I had to do something! Don't you understand?"

Aldreya nodded. "But it doesn't matter. I cannot in good conscience allow you to continue. You would only burden us."

For a moment Faindan sat motionless on his horse, his expression pleading. He gazed at Lannon, who simply looked away. Then Faindan lifted the reins in his good hand and rode off for Dremlock, his cry of frustration echoing through the woods.

***

As they continued on through the stretch of woods, no one spoke of the incident involving Faindan. There was nothing more to be said. It was up to the High Council what would become of him.

Yet no one could stay somber for long on this pleasant day. As they navigated the Greywind horses between the huge trees, soon the talk and laughter started up again. A soft roof of green leaves hung above them, interrupted here and there by patches of sunlight that broke through, and thick roots stretched out into the trail. Birds chirped, and squirrels climbed up and down the tree trunks. This was one of many ancient stretches of forest throughout Silverland that had never faced the saw or axe, and an aura of peace lingered here that invigorated the spirit and instilled optimism in the heart. The Divine Knights felt that surely they would be victorious in their quest, that not even the armies of Bellis could thwart them.

But the peaceful mood was soon interrupted. One of their Elder Hawks returned from a scouting mission, swooping down from the treetops and landing on one of the two long wagons that held their supplies. The Hawk used head and wing movements to indicate it had spotted a large group of enemies in the trail behind them. Soon another Hawk landed on the other wagon and revealed that a single enemy lurked ahead.

"What do you make of this?" Aldreya asked Lannon.

"The larger group," said Lannon, "could be the Lawkeeper and his Knights. After all, he promised to observe me, remember? They must have followed us, but I wonder why the Hawks didn't spot them sooner."

"There are ways to hide from the Hawks," said Aldreya, "if one is patient and careful. But it appears they are about to reveal themselves."

The Knights drew their weapons but kept moving forward, opting to take their chance against the single foe. But that foe turned out to be a dead Ogre lying on its back in the trail. The Ogre wore only a loincloth, but next to it lay a shining silver war hammer that was very pale in hue and adorned with Sacred Runes of Dremlock. There was also a large pouch from which silver coins had spilled out.

Aldreya leapt down from the saddle and checked the pouch. "Packed with ancient coins bearing the mark of Dremlock." She removed a silver, rune-covered chalice from the pouch and held it up. "A Blessed Chalice, used for divine rituals, and a Blessed Hammer for war against the Deep Shadow. That hammer alone is worth a fortune, for it is blessed by the Divine Essence itself and the silver made as strong as Glaetherin and twice as light. These items once belonged to our kingdom. The Ogre must have robbed some forgotten Knightly tomb."

Lannon scanned the Ogre. He sensed traces of malicious sorcery in the dead giant--the venom of a Pit Crawler. The Ogre had been bitten several times on the chest and face. "One Goblin slaying another," he mused.

"A common occurrence," said Aldreya. "Goblins make war on each other frequently--especially the greedy ones."

"That's a lot of treasure," said Daledus, his eyes shining.

"Indeed," said Aldreya. "This could be a great find for Ollanhar."

What about the hammer?" asked Galvia, a look of wonder on her face. She couldn't seem to remove her gaze from it.

"It should be wielded by a Knight," said Aldreya. "Someone, that is, whose preferred weapon is the hammer."

Galvia looked about, but no one else possessed a war hammer. She grinned with delight. "I'm guessing that would be me."

"Perhaps," said Aldreya, smiling.

"Shouldn't the treasure be returned to the tomb?" asked Lannon. He hated the thought of disturbing the dead--especially the resting place of a Knight. He thought it might anger the Divine Essence.

"Do you see any tomb?" asked Aldreya. "I do not. Nor do I have time to look for one. And truthfully, the practice of burying dead Knights with silver was abolished centuries ago. It was deemed a waste of silver. We must obey the Sacred Laws and make use of this treasure."

"A waste of silver indeed," said Bekka. "Why would a dead body require money? Or anything else for that matter?"

"It was symbolic," said Aldreya. "Something reserved for elite Knights, to honor their deeds. My own people engage in that practice. As a member of the Royal Family, I will be buried with treasure when I die."

"I want a heap of silver in my tomb," said Prince Vannas. "And gold and jewels too. I feel I deserve it."

"Will your spirit truly care, cousin?" asked Lothrin.

"It might," said Prince Vannas, smiling.

"Mine will not," said Lothrin. "Better that treasure be used for the benefit of the living. The spirit is free of such earthly needs."

Vannas rolled his eyes. "If you say so."

"I would like to be buried with my sword," said Jerret. The hulking Red Knight drew his weapon and held it up. "Lay it across my chest, as a warning to the living that a warrior sleeps in that tomb."

"So it can rust into oblivion?" said Bekka, with a laugh.

"Glaetherin doesn't rust," Jerret pointed out.

"We all have rituals and practices," said Aldreya, "as silly and pointless as they may seem. It is the way of humans and even the way of the Divine Essence. If our god allows for rituals, then we should embrace them."

Moments later, the Lawkeeper and his Knights rode into view along the trail, with the two Thallite Giants striding along behind them. As they approached, the Lawkeeper called out, "I see what you have. That treasure is mine. I claim it for Bellis Kingdom, in the name of King Verlamer!"

Lannon sighed, then muttered, "Quite annoying."

Aldreya groaned. "I waited too long. I should have tucked it away swiftly in a wagon. Regardless, I will not surrender it."

"Someone must have been spying on us," said Lannon, scanning the woods. "A human or creature of great stealth and speed--maybe even a servant of the Deep Shadow. The spy must have hurried to the Lawkeeper with the news. We shall have to assume we are being watched from now on."

"Hand over that treasure," the Lawkeeper insisted, pointing his dragon cane at Aldreya. His expression was disdainful, his spiked silver hair catching a bit of sunlight that filtered down from between the leaves. Nearly as tall as Jace, he was an imposing figure beneath his crimson robe.

"These treasures belong to us," said Aldreya. "They were forged by Dremlock, as the markings on them clearly show."

"Let me examine the items," he replied.

Reluctantly, Aldreya handed over a coin. The Lawkeeper studied it carefully and then poked around in one of his books. He nodded. "Ancient treasure. Too ancient to be claimed by Dremlock, and found on a wandering Ogre. As far as I'm concerned, I have just as much right to this silver as you do."

"We found it first," said Vorden.

"We were right behind you, Knight," said the Lawkeeper, sneering. "Therefore, I am claiming it for Bellis. I have the right to fight for it."

"Feel free," said Prince Vannas, reaching into his pocket to grasp the White Flamestone. "Lannon and I can deal with you."

The Lawkeeper glared at the prince. "Your arrogance is astounding. You believe you can defeat my Guardians and Thallites? Then you are a fool. We would strike you down with exploding arrows before you ever had a chance to deploy your weapon. Think about that!"

Vannas didn't reply.

"We will not surrender the treasure," said Aldreya. "Do you really want to fight to the death over these items?"

"Of course not," said the Lawkeeper. "I detest bloodshed. I suggest we duel for the items--a friendly joust in which no one is killed. One of your warriors against one of mine. The winning side keeps the silver."

Aldreya called Lannon aside to discuss the situation. "The Knights of Bellis are famous for jousting," she said in a low voice. "Dremlock, however, favors duels of blades. The Lawkeeper would have a significant advantage."

"Our Red Knights are trained at jousting," said Lannon. "Jerret is very skilled at it. Why not let him partake in the match?"

"I doubt he can beat a Guardian," said Aldreya. "The Golden Knights are masters of the joust. They have never been defeated."

"I could give it try," said Lannon. "I haven't had any practice at jousting, but it can't be that difficult. My goal is to knock the opposing warrior off his horse, right? Well, I can move objects from a distance."

"You can't use sorcery to unhorse him," said Aldreya. "That would be cheating. You have to strike him with a lance. You can only use sorcery that enhances the body--to strengthen or shield yourself. The Guardians attack an opponent's mind during jousting, so that sort of thing too is permitted--though I personally don't feel it should be allowed. But no flames or distance attacks."

"No burning lance?" Lannon asked.

"As I said, no fire at all," Aldreya replied.

"That seems unfair," said Lannon. "The rules seem to favor Bellis over Dremlock, if the Divine Fire cannot be used."

"The rules are ancient," said Aldreya. "We must not question them. Besides, you don't know how to use fire."

"True," he said, sighing. "But I can shield myself, and it might be enough. It's either that or we fight them for the silver, and I would rather not have bloodshed over treasure regardless of how much it's worth."

"We shall have to settle for the joust," Aldreya said reluctantly. "Our mission is too important to engage in battle with the Lawkeeper's army. Our party is small as it is, and a conflict could reduce our numbers even more."

"I need a lance," Lannon called out.

Jerret brought Lannon his heavy lance. "It's designed for throwing" he said, "but it will work well enough in a joust. Remember, the jousting laws of our land state that your feet can't touch the ground or you lose. Also, hang on tight to the lance. If it falls, you're going to lose. Timing and distance is everything. If you thrust too early or too late, you'll pay the price. You sure you don't want me to do it?"

"I'm fully trained at jousting," said Vorden. "And I have the best armor here. Why don't you let me do this, Lannon?"

Lannon hesitated. Vorden did possess unnatural strength and other powerful abilities, and his armor was as stout as that of the Guardian.

But Aldreya shook her head. "I respect your skills, Vorden, but I don't believe you would win. Only Lannon has a chance."

Vorden glared at her. "With all due respect to Lannon, you'll likely regret this decision. Lannon has never been involved in a joust, but I know I could win--even against a Guardian. My armor is designed to absorb mighty blows. Trust me, I would not be dislodged from the saddle."

Aldreya considered it, then shook her head. "You have never faced a Guardian, Vorden. Their skills are inhuman."

"And so are mine," said Vorden, but she ignored him.

Aldreya fixed her gaze on Lannon. "You may proceed."

Lannon swung onto his horse. "I'll do my best."

"Good luck, my friend," said Jerret. "I envy you."

One of the Golden Knights faced Lannon in the trail, holding a lance that was longer and heavier than the one Lannon held--a true jousting lance. The Guardian seemed invincible beneath his golden armor that covered him from head to toe, a shining statue on horseback in the beams of sunlight that broke through the treetops. His huge war horse stomped and snorted, ready to charge. The Guardian seemed designed for jousting, whereas Lannon looked awkward with his lack of armor and inferior lance. Though Lannon was lean and athletically muscled, he seemed small and weak compared to the huge Knight.

The other warriors cleared away, leaving open trail between the two. They sat facing each other for a few moments, and then the Golden Knight spurred his horse into a gallop. Lannon prompted his steed forward.

The charge was awkward, and Lannon decided in an instant that he didn't care for jousting. As the Guardian drew close, Lannon let the power of the Eye guide his actions, and the lance thrust out, connecting with the Guardian's chest. It was a solid blow, but the lance deflected off the golden armor as the Guardian twisted to one side. They rode past each other and then turned their horses about.

Lannon realized he would need a perfect strike to knock the Guardian from his saddle, and he wasn't sure he could deliver it, Eye of Divinity or not. It was extremely difficult to maintain focus on both attack and defense.

"Timing is everything!" Jerret reminded him.

They charged each other again, and this time Lannon focused more on attack and let his guard down a bit. He leaned forward in the saddle, his cloak flapping in the wind, wanting to throw everything into the thrust and end the match quickly. But the Guardian's sorcery crept into Lannon's mind, stripping him of his will and focus--filling his head with an image of twisting serpents that was impossible to ignore. Lannon fought to regain his focus, but before he got the chance to make his move, the Guardian's lance shot toward him. Lannon managed to shield himself an instant before the weapon struck his shoulder. He was knocked from his perch, and he dropped his lance in order to keep from falling, his hands locking around the saddle and his feet hanging inches above the ground.

The Eye of Divinity surging through him, Lannon easily swung back into the saddle, but his lance lay in the trail. He wasn't sure what to do and looked to Aldreya for help. "What should I do?" he called out, as the Guardian took position to face him. "Have I lost the match?"

"No one can help you!" the Lawkeeper yelled, looking delighted. "And your feet cannot touch the ground. Therefore, you must either forfeit the match or allow your opponent to knock you from your horse."

Lannon didn't care for either of those options. Instead, he reached forth with the Eye and drew the lance into his hand. He doubted the move was allowed, and he waited for the Lawkeeper's response. But the Lawkeeper immediately began studying one of his books, his face red with anger.

Lannon took that as a sign to continue, and the two warriors charged each other again. This time Lannon shielded his mind against the Guardian's sorcery and was able to stay focused. The Eye of Divinity gripped his body, willing his muscles to thrust out with the lance at the proper moment, and the weapon slammed against the Guardian's shoulder. The blow was driven by a mighty surge of energy, and the Golden Knight was lifted up and flung from the saddle.

The Divine Knights cheered.

It was a humiliating defeat for the Golden Knights, who bowed their heads in shame. Their flawless reputation was now tarnished.

"Well done, Lannon!" Jerret called out.

But the Lawkeeper refused to give up. He waved his hand about as Lannon approached. "Hold on a moment." He continued studying his books, and then at last his eyes lit up with glee. He read the passage he was looking for: "Neither lance nor feet shall touch the ground for even an instant, or the contest is finished." He held it up for the others to view.

"Why should we trust the writings in your book?" said Prince Vannas. "I demand more proof than that."

"This is an official rule book," said the Lawkeeper, looking appalled, "for all manner of contests. It is recognized by most kingdoms throughout Gallamerth, including Dremlock. I assure you it is factual."

"So you claim," said Vannas.

"I must admit," said Aldreya, "that my knowledge in this area is somewhat lacking." She turned to Jace. "Any thoughts?"

"Are you interested in hearing the truth?" asked Jace.

"Of course," said Aldreya, though she looked a bit reluctant.

"Very well," said Jace. "Lannon lost the duel when his lance touched the ground. The Lawkeeper is correct. And his rule book--The Official Kingdom Rules of Gamesmanship, written by Thayvad Redshield--is indeed widely recognized. Every kingdom has one."

"You're an honest man, Jace," said the Lawkeeper. "Now hand over the treasure, including that lovely war hammer." His eyes smoldered with greed as he gazed at the magnificent hammer. "A Blessed Hammer of Dremlock--one of only eight ever created. What a wondrous find for King Verlamer."

"A weapon of Dremlock!" Daledus growled.

The Lawkeeper smiled. "Not anymore, Dwarf."

The Lawkeeper and his warriors took the treasure and rode off, while the Divine Knights were left with somber expressions.

"I'm sorry I lost the joust," said Lannon.

"No need to apologize," said Daledus, who was fired up and pacing about in the trail, his hands knotted into fists. "You knocked that Guardian right out of the saddle--a blow that hit him like a battering ram--and if not for some ancient and silly rule, you'd be the winner."

"As far as I'm concerned," said Jerret, "you are the winner, Lannon."

The other Knights voiced their agreement.

But Aldreya was having none of it. "We lost, and we must accept defeat with honor. Yet we accomplished something important nonetheless--we avoided a war with the Lawkeeper over treasure that would surely have cost lives. Avoiding bloodshed is a victory that we can be proud of."

"I would have preferred bloodshed," Jerret muttered.

"But this isn't over," said Jace, with a grim expression. "We will deal with this Lawkeeper again, for I believe his goal is indeed bloodshed. I believe he has come to claim the Flamestone for Bellis--after letting us do all the work to obtain it. My guess is that he would not have fought us for this treasure--not with Lannon and Prince Vannas present. Instead, his plan is to ambush us."

"But that's only a guess," said Aldreya. "I cannot rely on that, for too much is at stake. The Flamestone is all the matters."

### Chapter 9:

The Ancient Horrors of the Soddurn Mountains

Evening was settling over the land as Faindan Stillsword guided his horse through the hills, and a few stars were already visible in the crimson sky. He had been riding all day and was hungry and weary--as if trying to leave his shame as far behind as possible. He cursed himself repeatedly for being a weak-willed fool, and his despair was so deep he almost wished he was dead.

"A Blue Knight without two hands," he muttered to himself. "Can't climb walls or ropes, can't shoot a bow. Finished!"

But was he? He could possibly change color class and become a Brown or Red Knight, but only with the approval of the High Council--and such approval was unlikely. Color classes were chosen carefully after trials were conducted and were only altered if there was a great need. For all his talent, Faindan was just another Knight and could be replaced. It was unlikely the Red or Brown Knights would take a chance on him, as he couldn't wield both shield and sword like a Brown or any of the heavy two-handed weapons the Red Knights favored.

"I'll be retired to Orange," he groaned, feeling sick. He couldn't accept life as an Orange Squire, regardless of the pay or ease of living. How could he serve food and drink to Knights he had once ridden with into battle? After having tasted Knighthood, the shame would be too great. He imagined himself cooking meals, mopping floors, or tending horses and he cringed. He vowed that if it came to that, he would simply walk away from Dremlock and never return.

Wolf howls interrupted his thoughts--evil sounds that undoubtedly came from the throats of Goblins. But Faindan wasn't concerned, his mind too heavily burdened with thoughts of his situation. His frustration compelled him onward without rest, and his mighty Greywind horse was up to the task. Seldom did these war horses of Dremlock tire before their riders did.

"You're my best friend," Faindan whispered to his horse. "Though I have been a fool, you haven't given up on me. To you, it makes no difference that I have lost my hand. You still bear me along like a worthy Knight."

At last, too weary to go on, Faindan slid down from his horse and made camp for the evening. Setting up his tent was difficult, but he soon learned to work around his limitations. After the tent was pitched and he had tended to his horse, he built a fire and sat before it eating jerky, cheese, and bread.

He gazed up at the stars, marveling at how many there were in the black sky. In the ancient writings of Dremlock, the Divine Essence said that the stars were blazing lamps that warmed the garden of the universe--a garden designed to grow life so that intelligent beings could emerge and eventually tend that garden. The writings said that all creatures were the children of the god that ruled over the heavens--that god being the mysterious father of the Divine Essence known only as the Great Light--and that humans were the result of careful planning. Faindan gazed at the stump of his wrist, wondering why such careful planning had led him to this fate. Didn't his god care about him? The Divine Essence itself was troubled--deeply concerned with its future and apparently receiving no help from the mighty god that had spawned it. So why should a lowly Knight like Faindan be of any concern?

Then he remembered other writings which stated that all Knights of Dremlock were prized by the Divine Essence--that they were its loyal servants and it would always watch over them. But that seemed silly. Clearly his god hadn't been watching over him when the Deep Shadow infected his hand and drove him to commit his insane act. The truth was that Faindan was serving a god that was a shattered creature which had once roamed the world--a creature that was in a struggle to keep itself alive and make itself whole again. It had neither the time nor the resources to help Faindan, and even if it was willing to bless him and restore his hand (it was said to have administered such blessings to the worthy at times), he would never be allowed to stand before it. That honor was reserved for the Lord Knight of Dremlock, the unfathomable Birlote wizard known as Taris Warhawk.

Faindan's hand simply would not grow back, no matter how many times he begged his god to restore it. He just wasn't worthy to receive such a magnificent blessing. Maybe Lannon or Aldreya were worthy, but Faindan had barely accomplished anything in his brief career. As much as it pained his soul, he was forced to admit that he was left on his own to struggle along with his missing hand. Nevertheless, he vowed to continue serving his god and living as a Divine Knight--even if he was forced to leave Dremlock.

As Faindan made that vow, he suddenly felt stronger. He realized he was not going to Dremlock to face Taris and the High Council. Instead, he would ride to Ollanhar and place himself at the mercy of Furlus Goblincrusher. It was as if a voice was speaking to him and guiding him, but he dismissed it as nonsense created by his own mind. The voice was still trying to speak to him, but he forced it out of his thoughts, reminding himself that he was alone in his decisions.

Some of Faindan's confidence had returned, and he felt restless. He rose and paced about by the fire, pleased with his own wisdom. Surely Furlus would know if Faindan retained any value as a Knight, and Furlus would never shame him by demoting him to Orange. Most likely, the Tower Master would simply order Faindan to retire from Dremlock, which was something Faindan could live with. He would never have to walk through the gates of Dremlock and then be forced to leave his beloved kingdom. He could simply ride away from Ollanhar Tower and make a new life for himself--perhaps as a Temple Master, which was a common role for retired Knights. He could spend his time teaching wisdom.

But then the emptiness gripped Faindan again. Was this really the end of his precious Knighthood--taken from him before he ever had a chance to do great deeds and make a name for himself? He couldn't imagine not living as a Knight. That seemed like a fate worse than death. He groaned, hating the way his thoughts kept twisting about. Until the matter was settled, he would find no peace.

Again, evil wolf howls interrupted his thoughts--this time coming from nearby amongst the hills. His horse grew agitated. His hand dropped to his sword hilt and he glanced about, trying to peer into the darkness. When he failed to see or hear anything, he lit a lantern and waved it around as he walked, hoping to scare the wolves away. He noticed some stone ruins on the side of the hill where he was camped--what looked like a small, sunken keep of some sort.

Faindan had failed to notice these ruins earlier. In spite of what had happened the last time he had investigated such ruins, they grabbed his interest. He had a love of ancient places. But as he approached the heap of mossy stone blocks, his curiosity gave way to anger. He gazed down at the ruins with contempt, thinking of the agony he had suffered, and hatred filled his heart.

Faindan sat the lantern down and drew his sword, sending fire into the blade. He shoved it against the stone blocks. "By the Divine Essence, I will burn you out!" he vowed, hoping some foul thing of the Deep Shadow would taste his flames and wither into oblivion. In the back of his mind, he knew he was wasting his time and behaving foolishly, but his emotions were raging.

His lack of focus almost cost him everything, as a huge Goblin Wolf leapt through the air from behind--intent on slamming into Faindan like a battering ram with its heavy body and breaking his bones. But Faindan's Blue Knight training caused him to duck at the sound of the beast's leap, and the Wolf flew over him and crashed into the mossy rocks, tumbling over.

The Wolf scrambled up and wheeled about, drooling with hunger, its yellow eyes smoldering with evil. It rose up atop the rock pile, mighty muscles rippling over a body that was like a mix of wolf and man and covered in long, shaggy fur. Its physical stench--and the stench of the Deep Shadow--was smothering. It threw back its head and howled.

Faindan raised his burning blade, even as he struggled to calm himself in preparation for battle. With only one hand, he couldn't draw his Flayer. He was used to fighting with two blades, and he felt exposed and defenseless with only one against this mighty foe. He was facing a Wolf that had grown huge and powerful from plentiful feeding, its thick hide able to deflect all but the most accurate attacks. The muscles that bulged out from the beast's thick neck and chest were very intimidating, leaving Faindan doubtful he would prevail. The sight of the huge monster rising up from the rocks filled him with dread.

And then the beast leapt, claws and fangs seeking to shred his flesh. Faindan twisted to one side and tore into the beast with his burning sword, cutting a deep wound in its side. The Wolf landed and turned with shocking speed, its claws swiping back in retaliation and catching Faindan's shoulder--ripping through his leather armor and tearing deep into the flesh beneath.

With a cry of agony, Faindan backed away--an instant before the beast charged him again with another leap. A stroke of good luck saved him, as he tripped over a stone and fell onto his back. Once again the Wolf continued on through the air over him, its claws missing him by inches.

Faindan rose, blood soaking his tunic, as the Wolf faced him again. The Wolf was aware of Faindan's missing hand, its cunning eyes searching out every weakness. The beast whispered to Faindan in the language of the Deep Shadow, seeking to reinforce his doubts and persuade him to fail. But Faindan's Knightly training allowed him to resist the Wolf's sorcery and remain focused.

And then Faindan's war horse reached the scene and tried to stomp the Wolf with its hooves. The two beasts fought for a moment and then the Greywind was yanked down, its legs buckling--bleeding from a deep wound in its neck.

Faindan groaned in frustration, wishing the horse had simply kept its distance. He distracted the Wolf by waving his arms and lured it away from the injured horse. The Wolf glanced hungrily at the meaty horse, then back at Faindan. At last it took the bait and followed the Blue Knight.

When the Wolf charged again, Faindan was ready. He sidestepped the beast and plunged his burning sword into its neck. The Wolf's momentum ripped the sword from Faindan's grasp, and he drew his Flayer.

Howling in pain and rage, the Wolf turned and bounded toward the young Knight, the sword still protruding from its neck. Faindan drove the burning Flayer into the beast's skull--a killing blow, but one that cost Faindan as he failed to leap aside. The Wolf smashed into him with crushing force and sent him tumbling head over heels.

The Wolf lay dead, but Faindan was badly wounded--bleeding from the vicious tear in his shoulder and having suffered broken ribs from that final impact. He lay on his back, gazing up at the stars and wondering if this was the end for him. If other Wolves were lurking about, they would surely smell his blood--and that of his horse-- and come for an easy kill. He could smell the moss of the nearby rocks, and he thought it was odd that he should notice such a thing. He found he was more worried about his horse than himself.

The pain drove him to begin his Knightly meditation that would fuse together flesh and bone. He visualized tissue knitting together rapidly, and he called upon his body to heal his wounds by repeating commands in his mind. If he could survive the night, perhaps he would be able to ride on for Ollanhar during daylight--if his horse was able to carry him. For now, he could do nothing but heal and hope that the Wolves didn't find him.

***

After two weeks of travel, the Divine Knights reached the end of the hill country and the land flattened out, showing signs of civilization. They rode past sprawling farms and found small towns with stores where they stocked up on provisions. They were able to sleep in a comfortable inn for a change.

Yet as they drew closer to the Soddurn Mountains, the weather took a turn for the worse--the sky clouding over and a wretched fog rolling in. Foggy, rainy weather was a sign of the Deep Shadow's influence on the land--emanating from the cursed mountains that blocked their path somewhere ahead beyond forest and farmland. They knew the bad weather would become a constant companion until they crossed through the ancient peaks and escaped the reach of Tharnin.

Soon it began to rain, a steady drizzle that came down for hours. The road grew muddy, and moods grew sullen. At last the rain ceased, but the mud continued to splash about as the horses made their way through the slop, and the dense fog continued to hover around them, potentially concealing enemies.

At one point they met a hefty, bearded man on horseback and his twelve-year-old son. The man was distraught, waving his arms at the Knights and begging them to stop. Aldreya and Lannon rode forth to meet him.

"My name is Blix Scrogglin," said the man. "I'm a farmer who lives nearby. I have a favor to ask of you. My boy here is named Taith..." He cleared his throat. "Um, Taith Fang...blade. Yes, Fangblade. A Knightly last name. Would you be willing to take him with you and train him as a Squire?"

A sullen-looking lad with brown hair and pimples peered around the big man, arrogance in his gaze. He sneered at Aldreya.

"We're on an important mission," said Aldreya. She hesitated, then added, "However, I am willing to test the boy, and if he passes the test, you can take him to Dremlock where he will be trained as a Squire."

Blix bowed several times. "Oh thank you, great Knight! That would make my greatest wish come true. My son is such a fine and excellent boy. Really he is. You have no idea!"

"I'm sure he is," Aldreya said. "But he still needs to be tested." She fixed her gaze on Taith. "Come to me, young man."

Taith didn't move.

"Do it, son," Blix urged. Then he whispered something in Taith's ear.

"I hate Divine Knights," said Taith. "They're stupid."

Blix groaned, glancing helplessly at Aldreya. "Sorry, he needs to learn some manners." With that, he practically shoved the lad off the horse.

Still bearing a sneer, Taith strode over to Aldreya. He gazed up at her. "You're beautiful. I'll bet my father wishes you were his wife. Yet as poor and fat as he is, no woman will look twice at him."

Aldreya seized his head, and Taith seemed paralyzed. She focused for a moment, her eyes closed. Then she removed her hand.

"He can go with you, right?" Blix pleaded.

"No," said Aldreya. "I sense a very weak Knightly essence within him, and his character is lacking. He is not worthy of being a Squire."

"Snobby Birlote!" Taith hissed at her.

Blix clutched his head in horror. "But you have to take him! I can't stand being around him anymore. He is destroying my life. He won't listen to me. He is horribly lazy, disrespectful, breaks things, makes threats, tries to harm animals, and steals anything that isn't nailed down."

Aldreya shrugged. "Perhaps you need to increase your discipline. It's your duty as a parent to find ways to punish him for such behavior and not the job of Divine Knights. I have no urge to look after a spoiled, arrogant child. My duties demand my full attention."

Lannon felt sorry for Blix, but he too had no urge to look after Taith. "If he had Knightly essence, he could possibly be made a Squire. But lacking that, there is no way Dremlock will take him."

"Ollanhar will not accept him either," said Aldreya. "Agreed, Lannon?"

He nodded. "We cannot accept him. Sorry."

Blix hung his head. "Then I will never have peace. I thought the Divine Knights would help me. Seems I was terribly mistaken."

"This is not our fault," said Aldreya. "It is yours. You were the one who raised this child, and you seem to have failed in asserting control."

"I drank too much," Blix admitted. "After my wife left me for another man, I...I let things go even more. It has turned my son into a monster."

"We must move on now," said Aldreya. "Farewell."

"Actually," said Lannon, "I'm hungry, and this is a good place to camp. Why don't we stop for lunch?"

And so they did--but the farmer and his boy rode off swiftly in the direction the Knights were traveling without looking back.

The Knights hoped that was the last they would see of them.

***

After lunch, however, the Knights rode on for a few hours and then encountered the boy again. He was muddy and standing alone in the foggy road. Taith still had the defiant look on his face, though there was a shadow of pain and fear as well. There was no sign of his father.

"Leave me alone!" the boy snarled at them.

Aldreya sighed. "Where is your father, Taith?"

Taith shrugged. "Don't know and don't care. He abandoned me and rode on. Shoved me right off his horse, and I hurt my arm." He rubbed his forearm. "I think that's the last I'll ever see of him. He told me he didn't want to raise me anymore, that I was worthless. He's right--I am worthless." His hands knotted into fists. "I don't care, though. I don't need him or anyone else."

"You'll need food and shelter," said Lannon. "We will look after you until we find your father. I'm sure he couldn't have gotten far."

"You won't find him," said Taith, "and even if you do, he won't allow me to stay with him. He's done with me forever. I don't have a father anymore." For an instant, he looked like he might cry. Then he shrugged it off and glared.

Aldreya nodded. "Regardless, you will be cared for. If we can't return you to your father, we will find you a suitable home. If nothing else, you can serve as an Orange Squire at Ollanhar Tower."

"I won't serve anyone," Taith snarled, "and I don't want any stupid family. If you take me with you, you'll regret it soon enough."

"We won't regret it," said Lannon. "And neither will you."

"Climb on my horse," said Aldreya. "You can ride with me."

"Better do as they suggest, lad," said Jace, leaning toward him. Taith shrank back from the sight of the huge, cloaked sorcerer. "I've seen this sort of thing before. A boy like you could starve to death out here or be eaten by Goblins."

"I'm not afraid," Taith insisted.

Aldreya motioned to him. "Come and join us, Taith."

He didn't move. He simply gazed at the muddy road with a sullen expression. Some of the Knights began to grow impatient.

"How are you going to eat?" Lothrin asked him. "Can you hunt for food? Where will you sleep? I know all about wilderness survival, my young friend. I am a Ranger. I can tell you that if you don't ride with us, you do indeed stand a good chance of dying out here."

"My cousin speaks true," said Prince Vannas. "Heed his wisdom."

"I'll make do alone," Taith said, but his eyes showed uncertainty.

"Very well," said Jace. "Stay if you must, alone and unarmed, and we will ride on. I wish you luck--for when the darkness comes, as it surely will, you will need all the luck you can get. Sometimes the darkness is hungry in these lands. It creeps up on those who walk alone. You should know the truth of this."

Taith gazed at Jace and shuddered. Then he hurried over to Lannon. "I'll ride with you. Not her."

Lannon nodded, then lifted him onto the horse.

Jace winked at Lannon, and they set off.

***

Lannon found the boy to be miserable company. Taith complained about everything and constantly shifted about in the saddle. He kept poking Lannon in the ribs to get his attention and then had fits of anger when Lannon's response was not adequate--at one point punching Lannon in the spine hard enough to cause a flash of pain. Lannon tried to be kind and patient, bearing in mind that Taith had just been ruthlessly abandoned by his father, but it was difficult. Taith seemed to find ways to deliberately irritate Lannon.

"Can I hold that sword?" Taith asked, reaching for it. Lannon pushed his hand away. "Is it made of bones? Are those human bones?"

"Dragon bones," Lannon mumbled, then instantly regretted it.

"From a real Dragon?" Taith sounded skeptical. "I thought Divine Knights weren't liars, so why are you a liar?"

"I'm not a liar," Lannon replied. "They are Dragon bones."

"Sure," said Taith. "Probably the bones of someone you killed."

"Human bones wouldn't make a strong sword," said Lannon, though he knew it was pointless to argue.

"They would if cursed with evil," said Taith.

"Divine Knights aren't evil," said Lannon.

Taith again punched Lannon in the spine--hard enough to make Lannon wince. Lannon's face grew hot with anger. "Enough of that nonsense," he said, turning. "If you do that again, you won't be riding with me."

Taith balled up his fist, but Lannon froze him with Eye. When Lannon released him, Taith looked horrified. "What...what did you do to me?"

"Sorcery," said Lannon. "And I have more of it, so beware."

"I knew you were evil," Taith muttered.

"I'm not evil," said Lannon. "Just angry right now."

"Well stop being angry," said Taith. "I thought you were a wise Knight, not someone who gets angry at children." He shoved at Lannon's back. "You must be a sorry sort of Knight."

Lannon clenched his teeth and didn't respond.

"Taith, that's enough," said Aldreya, in a harsh tone. "If you continue to misbehave, you will eat only vegetables for dinner."

"Good," said Taith. "I hate meat anyways."

"Then you will only eat meat," said Aldreya.

"Good," said Taith. "I hate vegetables."

Aldreya's lips tightened. "You will learn to listen."

Taith made a rude gesture at her.

"Do that again," said Aldreya, "and you will eat nothing this evening. You will go to bed without supper. Is that understood?"

"Hey, I thought you were supposed to be nice," said Taith. "Why are you being mean to me when my father just abandoned me? Do you want to starve me? Lannon wouldn't starve me--right, Lannon?"

Lannon nodded. "But you will receive proper discipline."

Taith shoved Lannon again.

"I'm not being mean," said Aldreya. "I'm teaching you proper behavior. If you misbehave, there are consequences."

"Like beatings?" said Taith. "That's what my father used to do, with a plank of wood. But later I learned to pay him back for it--so he quit doing it. I told him I would cut his throat in his sleep."

"You won't receive any beatings," said Aldreya. "Not when you ride with us. But you will learn manners and respect. Trust me on that. I'm sorry about the things that have happened to you, but they are beyond my control and yours. We must focus on the here and now."

"Focus all you want," said Taith. "I could care less. Focus is a stupid waste of time. Right, Lannon?" He took to drumming his fingers on Lannon's back and humming loudly. "No focus! No Focus!"

Lannon suspected that getting Taith to behave was going to be a long and difficult process for whoever ultimately undertook the task. Lannon had no intention of being the one to do it and he pitied whoever opted to fill the role. In fact, the idea of facing Tenneth Bard again in a duel to the death seemed preferable to dealing with this young man. Lannon couldn't wait to get back to worrying about the dangers of strange lands and war with Bellis.

***

When they stopped for dinner near a Knightly Shrine, Taith wandered freely about the camp, irritating people. Finally, when everyone sat down to eat, they realized he was missing--along with several items.

"He must have fled," said Lannon. "I'll go find him."

"I'll go as well," said Aldreya, her face showing frustration.

They hurried off into the dense fog, following Taith's trail. Lannon was easily able to track him down. They caught him standing near a little stream, the bag of stolen items slung over one shoulder.

Aldreya snatched the goods from Taith's hands. "That is theft, Taith. And being a thief is offensive to the Divine Essence. It is also clearly immoral. I am very disappointed in you."

"I don't care!" Taith shouted at her. "You should have let me leave with those goods. I could have sold them and bought food. You've ruined everything. If you force me to come back to camp, I'll do something to your horse when you're sleeping." An evil glint shone in his gaze.

Aldreya's eyes widened. "You certainly will not!"

"Never make such a threat again," said Lannon, feeling disgust. "The Greywinds are noble and innocent. Why would you ever harm one?"

"I will do it," Taith insisted, his voice cold.

"For one thing," said Aldreya, "it wouldn't be wise. These are war horses, Taith. They're fully trained to defend themselves. They can kill quite easily. I would hate to see something bad happen to you."

Lannon had had enough. He seized Taith's shoulder. "Come with me to the Knightly Shrine. I want to show you what Dremlock is all about." When Taith didn't respond, Lannon raised his voice. "Do as I command, Taith."

"Fine," Taith muttered. "I don't want you using that weird and horrible sorcery on me again." With that, he followed Lannon through the fog. At one point Taith stopped, and Lannon turned to gaze at him.

"Keep following, Taith," Lannon ordered. He raised his hand. "I can make you follow against your will. You know I can."

Taith shuddered. "No need for that."

Soon the Knightly Shrine stood before them--an ancient stone dome with two statues of Dwarven Dark Knights on either side of the door. It was a beautiful little shrine, the white stone blocks overgrown with vines and a fountain ringed with fairy statues standing next to the path. Lannon paused at the fountain drink the cold, delicious water. Then they proceeded on.

A notice was inscribed on the stone door:

ONLY THE PURE OF HEART SHALL ENTER HERE:

THOSE WHO TREAT OTHERS KINDLY

THOSE WHO HONOR THE DIVINE ESSENCE

AND THE CHILDREN OF OUR LAND

"What does it say?" asked Taith, looking fearful.

"Can't you read?" Lannon asked.

"Not very well," said Taith. "Just some of the smaller words."

Lannon winked at Taith. "It says you can enter."

Taith looked skeptical. "Why? I'm not a Knight, and I don't care about your stupid Divine Essence. If I enter, I might get struck down."

"You won't get struck down," said Lannon, pulling the stone door open. "Follow along now, Taith." With that, he entered the shrine.

They stood in a circular chamber that contained stone benches, a rectangular altar, and statues of famous Knights, including, of course, Kuran Darkender--the original and greatest Lord Knight of Dremlock. The most powerful and noble warrior who had ever lived, incorruptible to Tharnin, towered over the other statues, yet at his feet lay a serpent-like figure with evil eyes--a warning that some unknown servant of the Deep Shadow below Dremlock had slain this seemingly invincible Knight. It was a chilling image that sent shivers down Lannon's spine.

The shrine was clean and smelled of recently burned incense. Lannon lit some incense that was in a brass holder and some candles, and the two of them sat down on a bench facing the altar. Lannon sat in silence for a time, letting the soothing atmosphere settle over them--hoping that young Taith would be enlightened. The presence of the Divine Essence was strong here--perhaps strong enough to seep into Taith's soul and bring about some changes.

But Taith was not so easily swayed.

"Are we going to sit here all day?" Taith groaned. "This stupid shrine is boring, and the statues are ugly. At least take me back to camp."

"It's peaceful," said Lannon. "Don't you think? Look at the statues of those great Knights, who once brought peace and justice to Silverland."

"Who cares?" said Taith. "Some old dead Knights who fought wars. And it stinks in here. That incense smells like dung."

"It smells of fine spices," Lannon argued.

"Dung," Taith insisted. "I hate it in here."

For an instant, Lannon's will faltered. Taith seemed to have no redeeming qualities whatsoever. He could sit in this wondrous shrine and feel nothing but boredom and contempt, while he plotted to steal, irritate others endlessly, and perhaps even attempt to torture the horses (that last one really made Lannon's blood boil). Lannon suddenly felt he was wasting his time.

Yet Lannon shored up his patience and tried again. "Look there, Taith," he said, pointing at a stone plaque that listed The Six Gluttonous Demons that Divine Knights--and all people in general--were supposed to be wary of. These demons were, supposedly, the greatest threat to humanity:

### The Six Gluttonous Demons

Lust of the Eye

The eye seeks pleasure but is never satisfied, as the body and world decays. And so we learn the fate of many kings who waste away on silk and furs. Let the dancers dance, but let the eye look upon many great accomplishments. The enemy of this demon is Hard Work.

Wine and Related Concoctions

The mind is dulled with pleasure, while the body and world decays. The common enemy of this demon is Strict Moderation, though to truly be safe from this sly foe one should practice Utter Avoidance.

Love of Coin and Gem

The purse is full, but the soul is empty and so the purse seems empty. This is the fate of those who hoard treasure uselessly in dark places and live in fear that it will be discovered by thieves. The enemy of this demon is Appreciation of Wealth.

Lust of the Mind

Cast your gaze from the beautiful maiden, oh Knight of the Divine Order, lest your feet take command and carry you to ruin. The enemy of this demon is Purity of Thought, to prevent it from entering.

Justification of Anger

Anger will grow to consume everything under the illusion of being justified. The enemy of this demon is Patience, for the more patience grows, the more anger shrinks.

Smoldering Hatred

The heart is driven by pain to hate, but the hate in turn keeps the heart in an injured state. The enemy of this demon is Forgiveness, which is not to be confused with exempting a lawbreaker from being held accountable for evil actions.

Lannon read them aloud, pride in his voice. When he was finished, he said, "So those are some demons to be wary of that could cause you grief, Taith. They have led many great Knights to ruin throughout the ages."

Taith yawned. "I think what you read is actually quite stupid. How can a purse be full but empty at the same time? If it's full, it's not empty. And how is wine a demon? It's a drink you pour down your throat. Do you drink a demon? I could write better stuff than that and it would make more sense."

"It was originally written in a different language," said Lannon, "called Birlote Secondary or Birlote Divine. It might not be a perfect translation, but these are warnings from the Divine Essence itself."

Taith shrugged. "They don't make sense."

"I could try to explain it," said Lannon, "but I'm not going to. I guess it doesn't matter. You're not going to be a Divine Knight anyway, so you won't have to worry about all of our silly rules. Actually, I'm not sure why I even brought you here." Lannon's mood was sinking by the moment, and he felt weary. Taith seemed to mock everything Lannon cared about, and even though Taith was only a lad, it bothered Lannon. He knew some of what the Divine Knights believed seemed laughable to those outside the kingdom, but Lannon had always embraced the teachings wholeheartedly. It was a way of life for him and he had wanted Taith to share a bit in the joy of it. Instead, the lad was bored out of his mind.

"Can we go yet?" asked Taith.

Lannon rose. "Yes, we can leave." He glanced at the altar, where words were written in the Sacred Text that only a Dark Watchman could read. To everyone else, the runes would simply appear as meaningless mystical symbols.

The inscription read:

IF YOU CAN READ THIS,

YOU ARE A DARK WATCHMAN

Lannon smiled. The Divine Essence had a sense of humor that, although displayed only rarely, was legendary at Dremlock. This was one of the best examples of it Lannon had ever witnessed. Their god was a strange creature, demanding that no one worship it but allowing for prayer. It believed itself merely to be a servant of a more powerful god that existed above a mountain. Yet it was thought of, and treated like, the lone god of Dremlock Kingdom. It was the earthy link to the Great Light--something that had a physical presence in the world and made decisions that directly affected the land.

Lannon grabbed Taith's arm. "Come on, young man. Time to go join the others."

"Wait a moment," said Taith. "I'm trying to read what that says on the altar."

"You can't," said Lannon, tugging at him.

"Then you tell me what it says," said Taith. "Or can't you read it?"

"I can," said Lannon. "But I am forbidden to tell you."

"Then I'll read it myself," said Taith. He squinted. "If...you...can..." He shook his head. "What is that next word?"

For a moment Lannon stood in stunned silence, overwhelmed by the realization in his mind. Then he gathered his wits and said, "The word is read, Taith."

"Right," said Taith. "If...you...can...read...this...you...are...a...something...something."

"A Dark Watchman," Lannon finished, in amazement. "Then you are a Dark Watchman. And, well, that seems to be what you are."

"Me?" said Taith, raising his eyebrows. "No way is that possible. I don't know anything about that stuff. Is that what you are, Lannon?"

Lannon nodded. "Has anything strange ever happened to you? Have you seen things you shouldn't be able to see?"

"No, nothing like that," said Taith. "I did have a friend once--a girl around my age. She used to move stuff around just by waving at it, like rocks and stuff. It made her really tired, though, so she didn't do it often."

"Do you know where she lives?" asked Lannon.

"Maybe," said Taith. He struggled to remember. "She moved to the city of Kalamede, I think, a few years ago. Maybe like...five years ago."

"Are you sure it wasn't you moving the rocks?" asked Lannon, wondering what this could possibly all mean.

"No, it was definitely her," said Taith. "She would fall asleep afterward. She even got sick a couple times and couldn't stand up. It was weird. I told her to quit doing it. What's this about, anyways?"

"I don't know," said Lannon. "I will discuss it with Aldreya. Meanwhile, you will join the others and you will behave. Is that understood?"

Taith nodded. "I suppose."

***

The air had grown colder, and it had begun to rain again, when Lannon and Taith arrived at camp, shivering. The Knights had set up tents for the evening, and Lannon met with Aldreya inside her tent while Jace looked after Taith.

They sat across from each other on a quilt, sipping hot tea, as the rain beat down on the tent roof. After Lannon told his tale, Aldreya was quiet for a time, her face contemplative in the glow of a lantern.

At last she said, "I think this is solid proof that young Taith bears the Eye of Divinity. Therefore, we must protect him from Bellis and the Deep Shadow in the days ahead and then send him to Dremlock to be trained."

"But what about his lack of character?" asked Lannon. "Surely training him would be dangerous. Look at what happened to...Timlin Woodmaster." The memory of his dead friend again caused pain to flood through Lannon's heart. He could never forget how he had slain Timlin in battle, ending Lannon's desperate hope for the former Squire's redemption.

"True," said Aldreya. "But many Knights start out that way. Some children are thieves and even, in rare cases, killers. But they learn the ways of honor. This Taith is no different. There is good in him waiting to be awakened."

"What about the girl he spoke of?" asked Lannon.

"Dremlock will search for her," said Aldreya, "when the time is right. If her parents are willing, she too will be trained. Unless Taith provides more information, however, she will be very difficult to locate."

"I thought the Eye of Divinity was rare," said Lannon. "Yet now I find there could be two others who possess it." He was still amazed by this turn of events (in contrast to Aldreya's calm demeanor) and wondering where it was all going to lead. He was so used to being the lone Dark Watchman of Dremlock that he couldn't imagine sharing the stage with others who possessed the Eye.

"It is rare," said Aldreya. "But when it does appear, it usually does so in clusters. Therefore, it is not surprising that two children who lived near each other would have use of it. I suspect that these children do not possess it as strongly as you do, Lannon. After all, the Divine Essence itself was able to find you. However, it seems they were invisible to our god."

"I don't understand," said Lannon. "Does that mean they will never reach the potential of fully trained Dark Watchmen?"

"Not necessarily," said Aldreya. "The Eye can grow stronger over time. Regardless, this is potentially good fortune for Dremlock--if indeed it was mere luck and not the power of the Eye itself leading Taith to us."

"How could the Eye do that?" asked Lannon.

Aldreya shrugged. "The Eye is capable of many wonders. It could have been working through both of you. Why did you take Taith to the shrine? You could have chosen to ignore him and let others tend to him. After all, you're the High Watchman and have your duties. Yet as much as he annoyed you, you dragged him along to that shrine, where he read the Sacred Text. Mere coincidence?"

"I'm not sure," said Lannon. "I guess I wanted to show him something, but he ended up showing something to me. Maybe the Divine Essence actually knew of Taith and was guiding my actions."

Aldreya nodded. "It is certainly possible. Regardless, I can guarantee that Dremlock will train Taith--and the girl too if she can be found. Having two more Dark Watchmen in our army would be very helpful against Bellis. Dremlock will ignore the dangers of the Deep Shadow and what happened to all of the previous Dark Watchmen. Times are that desperate."

"But won't they want me to train Taith?" asked Lannon, not liking that idea one bit. He didn't want to feel responsible for the lad.

"Not likely," said Aldreya. "It isn't necessary. The Eye of Divinity is different for everyone, and everyone must discover it on their own. Taith would be better off at Dremlock, with Taris Warhawk to guide him as he once guided you."

Lannon found himself apprehensive. "But what if Taith and the girl turn evil? The odds are that they will. They could try to overthrow Dremlock, as the Dark Watchman did in ancient times."

"And so could you," said Aldreya. "What if the Deep Shadow gets in your heart, Lannon? Are you so certain you can resist it?"

"No," Lannon admitted. "But I'm only one man. If Taith and the girl were trained, that would make three of us. There would be greater danger. Surely one or two of us would end up falling to evil. After all, every single Dark Watchman who ever lived turned corrupt somehow. That makes for horrible odds."

"Yet the greatest danger we face today," said Aldreya, "is King Verlamer and Bellis. Dremlock is one of the last free kingdoms. We can't afford to worry about other threats. If Verlamer defeats us, he could open the way for the Deep Shadow. Our land might be doomed to a horrifying and endless existence in ice and shadow. That must be prevented at all costs--first and foremost by the might of the Flamestones, and secondly, by having warriors like the Dark Watchmen on our side."

"You're right, of course," said Lannon. Yet he remained apprehensive. "I guess Taith should be trained at Dremlock, then. And when he is ready, he can join us at Ollanhar. But...I don't want to be responsible for him."

"You won't be," Aldreya promised. "Taith will be on his own, like all Dark Watchmen are. You are the High Watchman until you retire, Lannon. No one can take that title from you, and you have your duties to attend to."

Lannon nodded, feeling slightly better about the whole thing.

But only slightly.

***

Taith was going to be a Squire of Dremlock, but the news did nothing to improve his attitude. As the Knights broke camp the next morning, Taith refused to ride on Lannon's horse. It was still foggy and raining in the grey light of dawn, and Taith sat on a stump looking cold, tired, and sullen. He waved the Knights away.

"Taith, it's time to move on," said Lannon.

Everyone but the lad was on horseback and eager to depart. The Knights exchanged impatient glances. Not this again, some of them muttered. The rain and cold had everyone in a sullen mood.

"That's an order, Taith," Lannon added.

"What if I don't obey?" said Taith. "Will you use your sorcery on me again? I know you want to hurt me with your magic."

"That's nonsense," said Lannon. "I won't hurt you. But you're not going to hold up this mission. You're coming with us, one way or another."

"Of course Lannon won't harm you, Taith," said Dallsa. "Lannon would never do that. He is too kind and noble to do such a thing."

"Lannon will keep his sorcery in check," said Aldreya. "Nevertheless, you will ride with us. We cannot leave you behind."

"I don't feel like riding," said Taith. "I just want to sit here. So please stop bothering me. I don't care about your stupid mission. I'm cold and tired, and that's all I care about right now. Understand?"

"We shall see," said Aldreya, her eyes narrowing.

"No one tells me what to do," said Taith. "And unless Lannon is planning to bully me with his weird magic, I'm going to be making the rules from now on. I know that I have some special powers like Lannon does and you people need me. So you're going to wait until I feel like riding."

"You can't hold that over us," said Lannon, struggling to remain patient. "We do need you, Taith. But we also need to complete our mission."

Dallsa motioned to the lad. "Come, Taith," she said softly. "You can ride with me, and I will see that you receive wonderful care."

"You eat too much," said Taith, with a sneer. "You're kind of fat. Your horse might give out with the two of us on it."

Dallsa's mouth dropped open. "That's not very nice, young man. I'm trying to help you, Taith. Where are your manners?"

Taith shrugged. "Just being truthful."

For a moment, there was silence as the Knights contemplated what to do. Then some low, muttered words came from Daledus' throat. The Dwarf had sat scowling in silence long enough, and he could no longer contain himself.

"Get on a horse!" Daledus growled. "Or I'll jump down there and take my hand to your rear until you can't sit down!"

Aldreya glanced at Daledus and shook her head--a warning for the Dwarf to stay out of it. "I can handle this," she said.

Daledus ignored her. He raised his hand in a menacing gesture. "Don't think I won't administer a fierce spanking, lad."

Taith glowered up at him. "Go ahead and do it then, bully."

Daledus' face turned crimson. He leapt off his horse and seized the boy, lifting him off the stump. "When I give an order, you do it. Understand?"

His face pale, the boy nodded.

Daledus carried him to his horse. "Now we're going to ride out, and you're not going to slow us--or I'll spank your rear good and hard."

Aldreya looked displeased, but said nothing.

Lannon was reasonably sure Daledus wouldn't harm the boy and was just trying to scare him into riding with them, but the Grey Dwarf's gruff manner and unpredictable behavior made for a tense moment.

"Daledus is too harsh with him," said Dallsa. "The boy can be troublesome, yes, but he has just lost his father and needs comfort."

Daledus sat proudly in the saddle, his fierce eyes daring anyone to challenge his authority to order the lad around. The boy sat with him, holding the reins and looking baffled.

"I'll make a man out of you yet," Daledus growled in Taith's ear. "You want to ride with Knights, then you'll learn to act like one."

"I never said I wanted to ride with you people," Taith replied.

"What did you say?" Daledus snarled.

Taith swallowed. "Nothing. I didn't say a thing."

Daledus laughed. "I thought as much. Now guide that horse right and proper before you spoil my good mood. Maybe later I'll let you swing my axe."

"I can't swing that thing," Taith replied. "It's too big."

"Have faith in yourself," Daledus roared--loud enough that Taith covered his ear. "I don't want to hear you talk like a weakling ever again."

"Okay, I will," Taith said quickly. "I mean, I won't. Whatever--just don't shout in my ear. Sheesh!" Taith's hands trembled as he held the reins.

"Daledus is treating that boy rather poorly," said Dallsa.

Aldreya didn't reply. She seemed content to let Daledus continue to display a Dwarf's style of parenting to Taith.

"What if Daledus beats him?" asked Dallsa.

"Our Sacred Laws forbid such punishments," said Aldreya. "Besides, Taith endured enough of that at the hands of his father. And it isn't necessary. In time, the lad will come to learn our ways and his behavior will improve."

Dallsa gazed at Lannon. "Watch over him, Lannon."

Lannon nodded. He knew little about raising children, but he vowed to do his best until Taith was delivered safely to Dremlock. In many ways, his own childhood had been miserable in dealing with his father--who bore a dark illness of the mind and soul that sprang from the Deep Shadow. Lannon hadn't received beatings, but he retained scars from his childhood nonetheless from watching his mother and father fight endlessly over every petty thing imaginable. Lannon was simply relieved that someone else was looking after Taith and he could relax a bit, though he intended to keep an eye on Daledus and make sure the Dwarf didn't deal with the lad too harshly. After all, Taith wasn't a Grey Dwarf and wasn't used to their ways.

"Can I ride with Aldreya?" Taith asked.

"Ask that again!" snarled Daledus, leaning close to the boy so that his bushy beard was practically smothering him.

"Can I..." Taith cleared his throat. "I'm fine right here, actually."

"I'll make a Dwarf out of you yet," said Daledus.

"I can't be a Dwarf," said Taith, disgust in his voice "because..."

Daledus leaned close to him again. "Because why?"

"Come to think of it," said Taith, "that would be a great honor. Dwarves are wonderful."

Daledus leaned back, a smug look on his face.

***

The towns and farms were soon left behind, as they entered a wild and dangerous region. The weather cleared, the sun breaking through the clouds and casting a golden glow across the land, and at last they could see the peaks of the Soddurn Mountains in the distance, marking the edge of Silverland. Once beyond those peaks, they would be in strange lands governed by strange laws, and Dremlock's authority would be severely diminished. It was a sobering realization.

When they stopped for lunch and were all seated in the grass, Jace paused in his eating, rose, and spoke a warning to everyone. "I have visited the Soddurn Mountains before," he said, "and amongst those crumbling peaks I encountered hideous creatures more dangerous than Goblins. The mountains were thoroughly corrupted by the Deep Shadow in ancient times, for within them lies a fortress that was once occupied by the Barloak Demons who made war on all life. However, this route will save us many days of travel."

"I can smell the stench of evil from here," said Aldreya, her gaze fixed on the mountains. "This will not be easy."

"Let me take the lead," said Prince Vannas. "I will burn the shadows away, leaving only barren rock along our path." He rose and glanced about at the small army of Knights. "I see a bit of doubt in your eyes, but pay it no heed. The Divine Essence has blessed us with the ability to survive anything. Even Bellis considers us a dire threat. What is there to be afraid of?"

"I beg to differ," said Jace. "We have much to fear, my good prince. A Flamestone is only as good as the hand that holds it."

"What does that mean?" asked Vannas, looking offended.

"It means you are flesh and blood," said Jace. "You can be tricked, or slain. We must guard you well, for your Flamestone could draw the evil out of the dark places. They will come for you, oh prince. Mark my words. The fortress is still active after all these centuries."

"And I will be ready," Vannas said, his face stony. "No one will ever pry this gem from my hands again. I am now alert to such trickery. My failure against Bellis has done nothing but strengthen my resolve, and no one will capture me again--for they will burn in white fire if they try. I am proud to announce that my skills have reached a higher level. I won't go into detail, but take my word for it."

Some of the Knights applauded.

But Lothrin rose and grabbed the prince's arm. "You better sit down and eat, my cousin. You're getting yourself riled up."

Vannas pulled away from him, glaring. "I don't need the advice of an opinionated Ranger. You're not as wise as you think, Lothrin."

"Never said I was wise," Lothrin mumbled. "But once again you're letting your power cloud your judgment. That is the path of doom."

"The path of doom," said Vannas, shaking his head. "How very dramatic. That's all I ever hear from you, and it grows tiresome. Who are you to question me? Are you a Tower Master of Dremlock? Are you even the Green Knight of Ollanhar or the High Watchman? No, you're none of those things. You're just a lowly Ranger who thinks he is superior to those around him."

Their eyes smoldering with anger, the two cousins confronted each other so that their faces were only inches apart.

"Calm yourselves," said Lannon, pulling them apart. "This won't accomplish anything. We need to stay focused on our mission."

Daledus grinned. "This needs to be settled with fists."

Jerret laughed. "Same old thing with these two."

"Not again," said Vorden, rolling his eyes in disgust.

"Enough of this nonsense," said Aldreya. "Why can't you two seem to get along? You aren't Squires anymore but respected Knights of the Council of Ollanhar. You will both sit down and enjoy your lunch."

Lothrin bowed and sat down. Prince Vannas hesitated, then took a seat in the grass. Yet they continued to glare at each other.

"Now that that's finished," said Jace, looking amused, "where was I?" He seemed deep in contemplation for a moment; then he shrugged. "I was going to say something brilliant, but I forgot what it was. Ah well. My lunch is getting cold anyway."

"I'm not going through those mountains," said Taith, gazing at Lannon and shivering. "It would be cruel to make me go."

"We have no choice," said Lannon. "Sorry, Taith."

"We're all going to die up there," said Taith, his words full of grim certainty, and it was Lannon's turn to feel chilled.

Many had vanished without a trace in the rugged peaks of the Soddurn Mountains--including a small army of Divine Knights sixty years before. The Knights had chased a powerful Goblin into the peaks, intent of finishing it off so it would cease to terrorize the land. The mountains apparently swallowed them up. Not even their bones were found.

"They'll never find our bones," said Taith, as if sensing Lannon's thoughts. The lad curled up in the grass, eyes closed.

Lannon said nothing, his gaze lingering on the jagged peaks that rose up into the sky. They looked innocent enough from here, but the Soddurn Mountains were crawling with death. Taking this route was indeed a huge gamble.

"Is this a wise decision?" Bekka asked Aldreya. "Our mission has barely begun, yet we could suffer losses in those mountains."

Aldreya hesitated before answering. Then she said, "I don't know, but this is the fastest route to our goal. And I think we're quite capable of defending ourselves against whatever awaits us up there."

"Yet what exactly is our goal?" asked Bekka. "I know we're going to an island, but where is it located? Will we be stopping anywhere along the way? I haven't seen a worthy map. We haven't discussed anything specific." The tall, muscular warrior gazed down at Aldreya with deep concern. "Why all the secrecy?"

"We will eventually hold a meeting," said Aldreya, as she walked away. And that was all she would say on the matter.

"Lannon," asked Bekka, "can you answer my questions?"

"No," said Lannon. But he didn't much care what the answers were. He would go where they needed to go and do what must be done.

Bekka shook her head, bearing a troubled look. "You're the High Watchman and have a right to know everything Aldreya knows, yet she keeps you in the dark. Shouldn't you be demanding answers?"

"Birlote sorcerers are always like that," said Lannon. "They hide things until they feel the truth should be revealed. I expect that from her."

"May I speak freely?" asked Bekka, pulling Lannon aside where no one else could hear.

Lannon nodded.

"You're somewhat of a spineless High Watchman," said Bekka. "You're letting Aldreya run everything. That's not how it's supposed to be."

"I very much disagree," said Lannon. He was somewhat annoyed at the harsh words. "We make decisions together, usually with help from the Council. But sometimes I let her handle things. My mind is often on other tasks."

"Then maybe you're not fit for the role, Lannon," said Bekka. "It sounds like you tend to neglect your duties."

"I do," Lannon admitted. "Somewhat. But not entirely."

Bekka's eyes widened. "Somewhat? Sorry, but that's not the attitude of someone I want being my leader. I expect better from you."

Now Lannon was fully annoyed. "Then perhaps you should return to Dremlock, Bekka. No one is forcing you to stay on the Council."

Bekka nodded. "I see. So I reveal my thoughts and you're ready to toss me out. I guess I wasn't allowed to speak freely after all."

With a sigh, Lannon calmed himself. "I don't want you to leave. You're a valuable warrior and an important member of the Council. I listened to your words, and I will consider them."

Bekka bowed. "That is all I ask. May I be excused?"

Lannon nodded, and she walked away.

He stood for a moment in the grass, contemplating what she had said. Her words made him weary. He didn't want to deal with issues concerning his role on the Council--or anything even remotely similar. He wanted to spend his time adventuring and doing heroic deeds. Bekka took the business of the Council very seriously, and Lannon respected that--but anything with the word "official" attached to it bored him to tears. He was more than happy to let Aldreya and the others deal with all of that even if it made him appear spineless.

Lannon drew his blade, focusing his power into it. He stood motionless for a moment, charged with energy, letting it cleanse him of all his earthly burdens. Then he lashed out at a nearby rock, cleaving it in two. It felt good to wield his sword, even if it was just practice.

He glanced about, slightly embarrassed, but no one was watching. He sheathed his weapon. He felt better, but Bekka's words still nagged at his mind. Politics left him no peace, but there was no escaping that burden.

Lannon would gladly face the terrors of the Soddurn Mountains over another argument concerning his duties.

***

After lunch, they rode on until dinner. The grass grew deeper and the soil turned boggy. The dense fog returned, rolling in from the mountains with a vengeance and obscuring everything--an unnatural fog that felt cold and evil against the skin. Ominous purple clouds gathered in the sky to the sound of thunder, and lightning split the air in the distance. They stopped to camp near some stone ruins marked by a towering and crumbling statue of a Grey Dwarf holding a battering ram in two hands. They set up their tents in the shadow of this ancient warrior, yet no one wanted to end up like Faindan Stillsword, and so they stayed away from the ruins. The Dwarf's stone battering ram extended out over the camp, vines hanging from it--as if guarding Dremlock's Knights from the lightning.

Once the horses were fed and the tents set up for the evening, the Knights noticed Prince Vannas was missing. A panic spread throughout the camp, and they began a frantic search for him in the fog. No one saw him depart, and this led to fears that he had been abducted by a servant of the Deep Shadow--perhaps some foul Goblin that had crept down from the mountains. Lothrin was especially distraught, blaming himself for not keeping close enough watch over the prince.

"How could he just vanish?" asked Lothrin. The lean Ranger's face was pale, hinting at some deep fear he refused to reveal to the others.

"We will find him," Lannon reassured him, though he wasn't so certain. Dread gripped his heart, whispering to him that something was very wrong--almost like the voice of the Deep Shadow trying to cast doubt in his mind. The cold, clingy fog seemed to carry a message of doom for the Divine Knights.

They searched for an hour on foot--using every method at their disposal, including the Eye of Divinity. Although they located the prince's trail, it ended abruptly at a small river--as if he had entered the rapidly flowing water and not emerged again. This led to speculation that he may have gone into the water to wash himself and then had somehow drowned.

Lannon again scanned the water and the grassland beyond, but could glimpse no trace of Prince Vannas or his dead body. He shook his head. "It's almost like he has vanished completely from the world. I don't understand."

"His body could have been washed downstream," said Bekka. "I suggest we move along the river."

Another highly ranked Blue Knight--named Wreld Greendagger--knelt by the steam, his expression glum. "I'm not ready to search for a body yet. No, our prince has to be alive! The White Flamestone would protect him."

"I doubt it would save him from drowning," said Bekka. "That is a fate that can happen to anyone--even a prince. When I was a child, my older brother drowned, and he was an excellent swimmer, strong and athletic. I always thought he was invincible. Yet something pulled him under--a strange current perhaps. There is no telling how deep this river gets in the middle."

Wreld rose, his face hardened with determination. He was stocky for a Blue Knight, with a bald head and a youthful face. "I refuse to believe that Prince Vannas died in such a manner."

Yet Lothrin looked deeply troubled. "Bekka is right, Wreld. Anyone can drown if they aren't being careful--and my cousin has been distracted lately. I could easily see him doing something foolish."

"You must try again, Lannon," said Vorden, as he paced back and forth. "He has to be around here somewhere...unless he was taken to that fortress in the mountains that Jace spoke of. I pray that's not the case."

Lothrin shuddered. "He might be better off drowned than to end up in a place like that. At least he would be at peace."

"Regardless," said Lannon, "I cannot find him. The water has washed away all traces of him, apparently." Nevertheless, he tried again--and failed.

"You found me quick enough," Taith pointed out. The boy was standing by the river, skipping stones across it.

"That was different," said Lannon.

"Why?" asked Taith.

"I don't know," said Lannon, gripped by frustration. "Sometimes a person's trail is easier to find. Sometimes the Deep Shadow can cloak the landscape and hide things. There is much about it I don't understand and never will."

"I don't like the sound of that," said Taith. "I guess that means I will end up like you and not know what I'm doing half the time."

Lannon had no reply for that.

"You're doing your best, Lannon," said Jace. "The Eye is always unpredictable, and many forces can interfere with it."

"If only there was a way to be rid of this blasted fog," said Daledus. "The prince could be very close to us, lying dead or injured, and we still wouldn't see him. The Deep Shadow seeks to cloak everything in confusion."

"If he was that close," said Aldreya, "I'm confident Lannon would find him. Therefore, he must have traveled beyond the range of the Eye--perhaps through the river to hide his tracks. He could have walked a great distance in the shallow water by the bank--perhaps for miles."

"Why would my cousin want to hide from us?" asked Lothrin. "Are you suggesting his mind has been claimed by the Deep Shadow?"

"That's always a possibility," said Aldreya. "Or something might have caused him to flee, perhaps to protect the rest of us."

"Aldreya is right," said Jace. "Even the prince is not immune to Tharnin. It can creep into a strong mind and lead one astray. I have seen it many times during the two centuries I have been alive. It doesn't necessarily mean he is lost forever. It could just as easily mean he is simply being led to his captivity or death and could still be saved. If we can find him in time..."

"This is a wretched turn of events," said Galvia. "Tharnin must not be allowed to gain possession of the White Flamestone."

Lothrin's eyes narrowed. "That, and I don't want my cousin to die. This isn't just about a Flamestone. A human life is at stake."

"Of course," said Galvia. "I'm as concerned as you are about him, Lothrin." The young Dwarf's smooth face reddened a bit, and she stepped over to Lothrin and squeezed his shoulder. "We will find him."

"Not standing around talking, we won't," Jerret muttered. He stood with sword in hand, looking both helpless and restless. "I'm with Wreld on this. I don't believe the prince simply drowned. I think an enemy took him."

"We need some wise ideas," said Jace, "so we can refine our search. Otherwise, we could wander until dark in this fog and more of us could get lost. We could end up straying far from camp and much time could be wasted."

The moments drifted by with Jace's pipe smoke.

"The wise ideas, Jace?" Aldreya reminded him.

Jace smiled. "Why don't you ever call me Uncle Jace anymore? Are you too important and grown up, now that you're the Green Knight of Ollanhar? You used to be my favorite Squire, and we got along so well--just like uncle and niece. It was a beautiful thing, really. I miss that, you know. Now you seem so...well, so much like a Birlote, and so distant to me." He gave a huge sigh.

Aldreya looked away, seemingly a bit embarrassed. "I'm not a child anymore, Jace. And we have a potential disaster on our hands, so let's stay focused on the important topic. So again--about those wise ideas?"

"Wise ideas," Jace mused, blowing pipe smoke at her and making her cough. "Unfortunately, I don't have any. I was hoping someone else did."

Looking frustrated, Aldreya glanced about at the others.

"I can lead a small group through the fog," said Lannon. "We can search until dark, and if we don't find him...return to camp I suppose. We'll start by traveling along the river."

"Count me in," said Lothrin.

"Of course," said Lannon.

"You'll need warriors," said Jerret, "in case you find trouble. Daledus, Galvia, Vorden, and I can handle that part of it."

Lannon nodded. "Aldreya, Dallsa, and Bekka should return to camp, though. I don't think it's wise to have the entire Council of Ollanhar wandering around in the fog and neglecting our campsite."

Bekka's face held a look of disappointment. "I understand."

Lannon realized what she was thinking, and he said, "Actually, why don't you come along too, Bekka? You're as good a fighter as anyone."

"Prince Vannas might be injured," said Dallsa. "A healer could be needed."

"I guess we'll all go," said Lannon.

"No," said Aldreya. "I will return to the camp with the rest of the Knights. If you do not return by nightfall, we will search for you in the morning."

Lannon bowed, and they set off.

***

Desperate to find their missing prince, Lannon and the Knights roamed for miles through the foggy grassland. Utterly soaked, cold, and miserable, they splashed along through mud and water behind their leader, calling out the prince's name repeatedly. With no response from the prince, it was left to the power of the Eye to locate him--yet they soon had a sinking feeling that Vannas wasn't just going to be found in the vast and seemingly empty expanse of slop. At last daylight began to slip away, and they returned to camp with the bad news.

Yet moments after they entered camp, Prince Vannas wandered in. The lean Birlote was soaked and muddy, with scratches on his face. His silver hair hung in tangles, partially obscuring his face. His expression was strange and distant, and he was holding the Flamestone in his cupped hands. He gazed at the others passively for a moment, as they swarmed around him, and then he smiled.

"Glad to be back," said the prince.

"Where have you been?" Aldreya demanded. She explained how they had searched for him extensively.

"I was just out for a walk," said Vannas. "I wanted to be alone, to meditate on the White Flamestone." He paused, then added, "I am seeking to unlock its deepest secrets." His voice sounded odd--almost evil--as if spoken from someone else's throat. "There is nothing more I can tell you."

"This is a disgrace," said Lothrin. "You had all of us worried that the Deep Shadow had claimed you. Now you come wandering in as if nothing is out of the ordinary. We're wet, cold, and tired from searching for you. Why didn't you at least warn us you were leaving?"

"Sorry," Vannas mumbled.

"That's not good enough," said Aldreya. "I'm very disappointed in your behavior, Prince Vannas." She took a deep breath and then let it out. "Therefore, I am confining you to our camp. You cannot leave without permission."

The prince eye's widened. "You're treating me as if I am a child, Aldreya. This is shameful and arrogant on your part."

"You're behaving like a child," said Lothrin, stepping close to his cousin. "And causing the rest of us a lot of grief in the process."

Vannas shoved Lothrin away. "I'm about done with you, cousin. Next time you get that close to me, I will break your nose."

Daledus grinned. "Now we're getting somewhere."

Lothrin frowned. "You will break my nose? Apparently you've forgotten my skill at fighting, my good prince. You may have the Flamestone, but you know that engaging me in battle would be folly."

Vannas shrugged. He adjusted his silk tunic. "Try it, and then bleed from a broken nose. That's all I have to say on the matter."

The two lean Birlote warriors stared each other down, their hands knotted into fists--the elite prince and the simple Ranger.

"No one is breaking anyone's nose," said Lannon, with a sigh. "Prince Vannas, it was wrong of you to make us search for you and have everyone worried. You must realize that. I think Aldreya's punishment is fair."

"Thank you, Lannon," said Aldreya.

"Actually," said Jerret, "I would like to break Prince Vannas' nose." The hulking Knight slammed his fist into his palm. "I'm dripping wet and hungry because of his foolishness. And he put the White Flamestone--and our whole mission--in jeopardy by wandering off alone."

"Agreed," said Vorden, with a look of disgust. "Prince Vannas, you should know better than that. You used very poor judgment."

The prince shrugged. "None of you understand. I was called upon by the Divine Essence to go forth and learn--and I will do it again if called upon." He was lost in thought for a moment, then said, "You see, I have only begun to scratch the surface concerning the power locked within the White Flamestone. There is so much more to be discovered. I have always used it purely to unleash destruction, yet the White Flamestone is unique in that it can do many things besides hurl fire. I believe it can also be used effectively as a shield, though the technique is very difficult to master. The Divine Essence is showing me what I need to know."

"If that's true," said Aldreya, "then I will lift the punishment. However, why didn't you tell us where you were going?"

"I couldn't," said Vannas. "I wasn't even aware I had left camp until I found myself walking through water. After my training, the White Flamestone somehow led me back to camp, like a light in the fog." His green eyes shone with amazement as he spoke. "Yes, a light in a fog that can hold the shadows at bay."

Yet Lothrin's face was stony. "Once again you're losing yourself to that wretched gem. It is a terrible thing to witness. I long for the day when you no longer possess it and your soul can be free again."

With trembling hands, Prince Vannas hurriedly put the Flamestone back into its black pouch and tucked it away. "Just keep your distance from me, Lothrin. And don't even think about trying to steal it when I'm asleep. I already warned you once what would happen--that I will defend the Flamestone aggressively against anyone who tries to claim it."

"I'm not a thief," said Lothrin.

"The issue is settled," said Lannon, who wanted only to get inside his tent and dry off. But apparently it wasn't settled--because Vannas had suggested his strange behavior would continue.

"It's not settled for me," said Lothrin.

"Mind your own business, cousin," Prince Vannas warned. "You've always been far too stubborn for your own good. It will lead you to ruin."

"Why?" asked Lothrin. "Because you'll kill me if I try to help you?"

The prince didn't answer. He entered his tent.

"The White Flamestone," said Aldreya, "is not an evil item, Lothrin. It is a living piece of our god, granted to us as a gift. You would be wise to remember that. It will not lead Prince Vannas astray."

"I'm not so sure," said Lothrin. "Even godly power can turn corrupt in the hands of mortals. You would be wise to remember that. The White Flamestone itself may be pure and good, but all mortals are tainted and given to wretched mistakes. I don't believe the prince can handle this power he has received."

"Yet the Divine Essence chose him," said Aldreya. "There was a reason for that. We must trust in our god's wisdom over our own."

Lothrin shook his head. "In truth, Aldreya, I trust my own judgment over that of any god. All the days and nights I spent in the wilderness taught me to rely on my own skills for survival and nothing else. Out there, in the wild lands, you learn that life and death come easily--too easily to be anything but the simple result of cause and effect. Even the greatest hero can die of thirst or stumble over a rock and fall into a heap of broken bones. I'm loyal to the Divine Essence and I will serve it--yet trusting in a god is not my way."

"Yet I'm ordering you," said Aldreya, "to stay out of Prince Vannas' business when it comes to the White Flamestone. Otherwise, I fear it will come to blows--or worse. You are not his leader or his parent."

"Aldreya is right," said Lannon. "I know how much to want to look after him, but it could result in bloodshed if you get in his way. The Divine Essence is in his heart, and he will defend his destiny at all costs. It makes for a dangerous situation, Lothrin. You need to mind your own affairs."

"I'm not sure I can do that," said Lothrin. "I have great loyalty to Dremlock and Ollanhar--but also to the Prince of Borenthia. I made a promise years ago that I would watch over him, and I take that promise very seriously."

"You're a Knight now," said Aldreya, "which means you are living a new life. You are a new person, blessed by the Divine Essence. If Knightly duty demands that you break old promises, then you must do so."

Lothrin hesitated, then simply walked away.

***

The next day, Bekka asked Lannon if he would guide her on a hunt through the fog in search of rabbits for breakfast. Lannon was tired of wandering around the soggy grassland, but he agreed, wanting to improve their friendship. The two left the shadow of the huge Dwarf statue and walked away from camp on a chill, cloudy morning in search of higher ground.

Bekka was a skilled hunter and seemed to know exactly what she was looking for, while Lannon was there simply to make sure she found her way back to camp in the unnatural fog. She knelt by logs and rocks, scanning the ground, occasionally readying an arrow and standing motionless for long periods of time. She moved with swift and graceful silence over the terrain, her muscular body seemingly tireless, and each rabbit was dispatched with deadly accuracy.

It wasn't long before she had bagged four rabbits, but that was hardly enough to feed the whole camp. "I need several more," she said.

"I'm fine with eggs and bread," said Lannon.

"Daledus will want rabbit meat," she said, "and probably Jerret and Galvia too." She smiled. "I don't want to leave anyone out. We need to fill your bag too, Lannon. You should have brought your bow."

"I'm not much for hunting," he admitted.

She gave him a curious look. "Why not? You have the Eye to guide you, and you're a Blue Knight. Surely you would make an excellent hunter."

"It doesn't interest me," he said.

"I heard you don't like killing," said Bekka. "Some of the Knights say you're too gentle for your own good. Is that why you don't hunt?"

"I kill when I have to," said Lannon. "I've slain Goblins...and men. But what you heard is true. I would prefer never to kill anything."

"That's a strange way for a Knight," she said. "Most warriors enjoy combat, or they wouldn't be warriors. While it's true that Divine Knights aren't supposed to favor bloodshed, we're also not supposed to shy away from it."

"I don't shy away from it," said Lannon. "But I always look for an alternative to killing. That is actually written in the Sacred Laws--that Knights are supposed to avoid bloodshed if possible."

"Of course," said Bekka. "Yet many Knights are all too eager to settle things with the sword. Perhaps that is a failing of mine as well. I usually go for the blade first when threatened."

"It's a difficult way of life," said Lannon. "We have to be slow to wield the blade and yet be prepared to fight to the death in an instant. The difference between you and I, Bekka, is that I would prefer never to engage in combat."

"Are you sure about that?" she asked, smiling.

Lannon considered her words. He did have a strong love of adventure and enjoyed putting his skills to the test, but the thought of taking a human life invoked disgust within him. "Yes, I'm sure," he said.

"A typical Dark Watchman," said Bekka, "but not a typical Blue Knight. It's strange how the Watchmen all grew so corrupt. They were very much like you, Lannon, from what I've heard. They defended life and fought for peace, resorting to violence only when necessary. Yet they became the darkest souls of all, engaging in horrific and evil deeds in the name of Tharnin. I don't understand it, but it worries me greatly. I worry about your future, Lannon."

Lannon wasn't sure he wanted to partake in this discussion. It seemed once again Bekka was questioning his ability to lead. Nevertheless, he found himself commenting. "I'm concerned as well, Bekka. Everyone at Dremlock is. But there's not much to be done about it."

"Yet what about this Taith lad?" she said. "Now another Dark Watchman has joined us--with another uncertain future. Is this a wise move on Dremlock's part, to train this boy to unlock powers that might be better left shut away? I tend to believe we should just find him a home and leave him be."

"Is it a wise move?" said Lannon. "I wish I knew. I too wonder if everyone would be better off if Taith just lived a normal life. I really don't want to see the Dark Watchmen rise again, because history has shown us what will happen. Yet Aldreya is convinced that Dremlock will train as many Dark Watchmen as we can find, due to the threat of Bellis. I guess I don't really have any answers and should give up trying to figure it all out."

"Don't do that," said Bekka, her face grim. "You have reason and compassion, Lannon. Dremlock needs you to stay strong and question everything. You're a voice of sanity in a sea of madness."

"Thank you," he said, truly grateful. "And your opinions are important as well, Bekka. I'm glad you're part of the Council."

"As long as I am on the Council," said Bekka, "I will speak my mind and fight for what I believe in. My father was a soldier and a guard at Gravendar, and he taught me to stand up for myself and never back down." For an instant, her voice cracked and she seemed overcome with emotion. "Remember yesterday when I mentioned that my brother had drowned? Well, my father shared his fate while trying to save him. I just stood on the lakeshore and watched, too shocked to do anything. The last thing I saw was fear in my father's eyes before he sank with my brother in his arms--not fear for his own life, but fear for what would become of me. He knew he was leaving me alone to my fate, and it tormented him in his final moments."

"Your father should be very proud of you," said Lannon. "You've become a great Knight and made the Council. I'm sure he is pleased."

"How can he be pleased," said Bekka, "when he is dead?" She bowed her head. "His last memory of me was consumed by fear and regret."

"I meant his spirit," said Lannon.

Bekka met his gaze, then looked away. "I don't believe in a spirit, Lannon. I believe the dead sleep forever. Death ends everything."

Lannon wasn't sure how to respond to that. He didn't want to arrogantly crush her beliefs even though he strongly disagreed with her. He opted to remain silent and let her decide things for herself.

"My father is gone," said Bekka. "Swallowed up by the earth. There is nothing left of him except my memories."

Lannon continued to remain silent.

Suddenly, Bekka gave him a piercing stare. "You disagree?"

"Yes," Lannon admitted. Now that she had asked, he felt justified in revealing his own beliefs. "Actually, I can see the dead, Bekka. I can even speak to the dead. There are spirits all over the place, including some that live right under our tower of Ollanhar. Some of them are very powerful. The Dark Watchmen, for example, remain restless and have never left our world."

"But they are not who they once were," said Bekka. "They are just shades of the living--leftover energy from life. Illusions without substance--no different than dreams or memories. Even if you could speak to my father's shade, I wouldn't want you to. It wouldn't be him. The man who raised me is gone forever, and no tricks of sorcery or the mind will change that. The world is full of tricks, yet the dead never return. Look around you and tell me I'm wrong."

"You are free to believe what you will," said Lannon. He found her view to be cynical at best, and he couldn't understand what motivated her to feel that way--but even a Divine Knight was given freedom of thought.

"Thank you," said Bekka. "I know you are a strict follower of the teachings of the Divine Essence, so it must be difficult not to preach to me. It is a reasonable and polite attitude like yours, Lannon, that I pay attention to. Nevertheless, you are misguided. The dead are asleep and will not trouble me."

"Actually..." Lannon mumbled. He found himself gazing at some kind of dark Ghoul that had crept up behind Bekka. It was a man cloaked in black, with a pale face and yellow eyes. His mouth hung open as if his jaw had come unhinged, to reveal long, curved fangs.

***

The Ghoul leaned close to Bekka, fangs moving toward her neck. A cold aura radiated from the creature that spoke of ancient stone crypts and dreadful isolation, of loss of hope and the doom of all living things. He had come to drain them of life and energy and leave only empty flesh--a man cursed by the Deep Shadow long ago and suspended in a state where he was neither alive nor dead but somewhere in between, a stalker of the innocent who loved to destroy life. His appearance was a mockery of who he had once been.

Lannon drew his sword. "Behind you, Bekka!"

Bekka drew her Flayer and whirled around. She took a step back in shock, as the creature gazed at her, its jaws snapping shut. Not one to hesitate for long, Bekka lashed out with her Flayer and cut a deep wound in the Ghoul's chest--an impressive strike driven by the power of Knightly sorcery.

The Ghoul glanced down at the wound impassively, seemingly unaffected by it. Then it seized Bekka's Flayer and ripped it from her hand. It tossed the weapon aside. It's jaws opened wide again, and it lunged at her--again going for her neck. The move was so swift that Bekka had no time to dodge, and the Ghoul's hands clamped onto her shoulders, pulling her toward the gleaming fangs.

Lannon froze the Ghoul, and then yanked Bekka away from it. While the creature was still suspended by the power of the Eye, Lannon sought to behead it. However, his blade encountered fierce, invisible resistance--as if the neck were shielded with dark sorcery. The wound was shallow, the blade glancing away.

Lannon was disappointed in himself. His embarrassing strike wasn't even as accurate and forceful as Bekka's.

Bekka dove for her Flayer, as Lannon again struck at his foe--this time trying to drive his blade through the Ghoul's heart. It was a mighty thrust, and he got deeper penetration this time--yet the Ghoul still seemed unfazed. It ripped Lannon's sword from his hand and tried in vain to snap it in two. When it realized it couldn't break the Dragon-bone blade, it hurled it away into the fog.

Bekka rose with her burning Flayer and struck the Ghoul from behind, inflicting another deep wound. The Ghoul whirled around and seized her neck, pulling her close and biting into her shoulder. She cried out in agony as the curved fangs sank deep into her flesh. Bekka writhed about in sheer torment--a shocking sight for Lannon to behold. He could sense her precious life force being drained away, sending her into a panic as she fought to keep from being drained until she was a lifeless shell. He could sense the horror of her experience.

Lannon wrapped his arm around the Ghoul's neck and squeezed until the fangs withdrew. He yanked the creature away from Bekka, and kept on squeezing. Bekka fell to the ground, apparently unconscious, as Lannon fought to maintain his hold. The Ghoul weakened under the pressure, but it was not a living creature and could not be strangled. At last, Lannon was forced to release his foe.

As the Ghoul faced him, Lannon summoned his sword from the fog. He focused all of his energy into the blade and waited for his foe to make a move. Yet the Ghoul watched him with cunning eyes and kept its distance.

The Ghoul whispered to Lannon in the tongue of the Deep Shadow that it was an ancient king who resided in a castle in the peaks. Ever since being cursed, it had killed many humans over the centuries--including Divine Knights. It came from high up in the Soddurn Mountains, where others of its kind lurked in stone crypts. It promised Lannon a quick death if he surrendered.

They circled each other. Losing patience because of his desire to help Bekka, Lannon leapt in for the kill, but the Ghoul seized his sword again. For an instant, they fought for possession of the blade, and then Lannon's fingers slipped and again it was yanked from his clutches.

The Ghoul tried to hurl the sword far away but Lannon was ready. He snagged the weapon as it flew through the air and called it back instantly to his hand. The Ghoul's eyes widened in shock at this display of skill.

Once again Lannon focused the Eye into the blade and waited, and this time his foe lost patience and leapt toward him. Lannon struck a flawless blow to the Ghoul's neck, breaking through the barrier of dark magic and cutting deep into the tough flesh. The Ghoul staggered, black blood pouring from the wound.

Lannon struck again, and this time the head came free.

The Ghoul was slain--the dark reign of the ancient king at last ended--but Bekka had received a wound so terrible that the thought of it made Lannon shudder. This was more wretched than Faindan's curse--a wound that went to the very core of Bekka's being--and it was going to prove more difficult to overcome. He wasn't sure Dallsa could cure it.

With a frustrated sigh, Lannon lifted Bekka and headed for camp.

### Chapter 10:

The Fiend in the Moat

Faindan Stillsword survived the night.

He awoke at dawn, terribly sore, the stench of the dead Wolf strong in his nostrils. For a long time he lay there, dreading what he would find when he looked upon his precious horse--dreading his own injuries that perhaps ran deeper than he could yet know. The last thing he wanted was to see his horse lying dead from its bloody wound--for not only would his best friend be gone, but his chances of surviving the journey to Ollanhar would be greatly reduced.

But avoiding the truth would not help him. Sooner or later he would have to face his fears and learn just how dire his situation was. Eyes closed, he listened for the sound of an animal breathing, but heard only birds chirping.

Groaning in pain, he struggled up from the ground. He was delighted to see that his horse was standing nearby. Its neck bore a grim wound, but it didn't seem to bother the Greywind too much. Faindan moved about, testing his strength. He winced in pain with each step, but he sensed his injuries would heal in time, and he was able to walk about in the meanwhile.

"And so we live on," he said to his horse, grinning. "The Deep Shadow hasn't finished us yet." The horse bowed its head, inviting him to ride. It scraped at the ground with its hoof, eager to move on.

Faindan gazed at his dead foe--the huge, muscular beast sprawled out on the ground, its tongue hanging from its muzzle. "I guess you thought I would be an easy kill," he said, "with only one hand for fighting."

In the light of dawn, the size and power of the Wolf was clearly revealed, and Faindan was amazed that he was still alive. The beast could have easily torn him to pieces, yet somehow he had overcome it. Faindan gagged, the evil stench reminding him of stale crypts where only the dead could be found--yet there was also an underlying smell of some odd spice like traces of incense, an unnatural scent for an unnatural creature that was born of dark sorcery. Faindan was gripped by both awe and disgust, chills creeping over him. Was there no limit to how powerful and evil Goblins could become?

As a young farmer boy living in a remote area, Faindan had been terrified of Goblins. His mother used to tell him grim stories to frighten him into behaving, and he had spent countless nights awake in his room and huddled beneath his quilt, cringing at every noise. When he reached his teens, that terror had turned to fascination with the creatures of Tharnin--a fascination that had ultimately led him to Dremlock Kingdom and its libraries. After earning Knighthood, Faindan's love of Goblins had turned to disgust and a desire to see them all killed.

"Good riddance," he whispered, as he gazed at the monster.

The horse motioned with its head, doing everything it could to persuade Faindan to ride on. Faindan too was anxious to get away from the stone ruins and the dead Wolf, but he needed a moment to steady himself before attempting to climb into the saddle. He glanced at the Wolf again, and a shock surged through him. Had the beast moved slightly? The Wolf's yellow eyes shone with malice and evil, still very lifelike, the Deep Shadow's presence still infesting the corpse.

Faindan gazed at the Wolf for several moments, and when he detected no further movement, he decided it must have been his imagination or simply the beast's fur rippling in the breeze--or both. Or maybe an insect or two had already found the body and was seeking to feed. Faindan shuddered, his nerves raw.

Too weak and sore to worry about his tent or other items, Faindan had all he could do just to give his horse food and water and then climb into the saddle. Once he managed that task, he found his horse able to bear his weight without difficulty. He gazed back at the abandoned campsite, the tent door gaping open like a shadowy mouth, and he shivered. Something about this whole area was dreadfully wrong. The Deep Shadow had a strong presence here.

"Thank you, my friend," said Faindan, "for carrying me onward." He stroked the horse's fur. "I'm sorry if I'm causing you any pain. We both need rest and healing." It was a tradition of the Knights of Dremlock to not name their horses. It was considered rude to impose a name on a creature that couldn't speak for itself. However, each horse responded to the word horse as if a unique name had been called, even when there were several Greywinds together. Each horse somehow always knew it was being summoned. These were the blessed creatures bred by the Divine Essence and unique to Dremlock, and it was common for a Knight to form a deep friendship with his steed to the point of defending the animal to the death.

The horse started off at a brisk pace, as Faindan ate some jerky and sipped at a water flask. Then Faindan dozed in the saddle for periods of time, as the Greywind followed the road back toward Ollanhar. Occasionally Faindan would awaken to jolts of pain through his body. The Greywind's strength and stamina was far beyond that of his own, its wound healing swiftly as the hours passed by. It was a hot day beneath a cloudy sky, and sweat dripped from Faindan's brow.

"Soon we will be home," Faindan said to his horse. "Your wound will be tended to properly, and you will be given much rest..." He drifted away again, his mind slipping into dreams where he still had two hands.

***

It was late afternoon, when the clouds were reddened by the setting sun, when Faindan came across a lone house on a hillside. It looked to have once been part of a small castle, though only a single, crumbling stone tower that rose up from a river and a section of a stone wall remained. The house itself was old as well, made of colorful stones and bearing a round and pointed red roof with a smoking stone chimney. The dwelling was surrounded by blue and yellow flowers that extended down the hillside to the river. The river looked to have once been a castle moat, with part of an ancient, mossy drawbridge sticking out of the water near the slimy base of the tower. Nearby stood a small barn, a white horse peeking out of it at Faindan.

Faindan rode to the door, climbed off his horse, and knocked. Moments later he was greeted by a lean, mostly bald man of about fifty who was dressed in a colorful robe. His hands were wet with clay, and he held a rag which he had used to open the door. As he beheld Faindan's Knightly appearance--the fancy clothing and leather armor of Dremlock--he bowed.

"Greetings," said Faindan. "I am injured and seeking a place to sleep for the night. My horse also needs attention."

The man bowed again. "Of course, oh Divine Knight. My barn is small, but it should be comfortable enough for your horse." He raised his eyebrows. "I can see that both you and your steed have endured many hardships."

Faindan nodded. "I can pay you for helping us."

The man's eyes narrowed. "I wouldn't dream of it. Any Divine Knight is a good friend of mine, as you will soon learn. Your presence here is a great honor to me. Dinner is almost prepared. Go in and make yourself at home. I will tend to your horse."

"Thank you," said Faindan, as he stepped inside.

The first thing Faindan noticed upon entering was a detailed wooden statue of a hideous beast standing in a corner--a beast of six powerful tentacles and with two round eyes the size of saucers. The beast held two large fish in its tentacles, their flesh ripped open. It was a fantastic carving, and Faindan realized he was in the house of an artist who seemed to have a love of very odd decorations.

The rooms were filled with carvings, sculptures, and paintings--some that depicted scenes from Dremlock Kingdom's past. Despite his pain, Faindan wandered around a bit, taking in all the colorful sights. At last he slumped down in a chair, overcome with agony and weariness. He needed meditation and healing, but he just wanted to sleep and forget everything. He savored the smell of cooking stew, his belly hungering for a hot meal, as he drifted into slumber.

Soon the artist returned, his footsteps awakening Faindan.

"My name is Gelarro," he said, bowing again to the Knight.

Faindan introduced himself, and they shook hands.

"Your horse is doing well," said Gelarro. "I fed and watered him, and bandaged his wound. Our stew is almost done, and there is bread to go with it."

"Excellent," said Faindan. "I'm very hungry."

Gelarro gazed at him with a curious expression. "I'm the sort that always wants to know everything, but of course a Knight's business is his own."

Faindan laughed bitterly. "You want to know my exciting story? Very well. I was cursed by the Deep Shadow and I cut off my own hand to stop the pain." He raised the stump to show Gelarro. "Cut it off and destroyed it. Then I was attacked by a Goblin--a huge Wolf--and had my ribs broken."

Gelarro's face paled a bit. "Yes, yes, I knew something terrible had happened to you. To sever one's own hand--it defies my understanding. And Goblins! Let me tell you about Goblins, great Knight. I have one of my own, who prowls the waters of the ancient moat, eating all of my fish."

"I saw the statue," said Faindan.

Gelarro frowned. "Well, the statues does not do the beast justice. It is a rather poorly done imitation, actually. What I need is the real thing, so I can stuff it and mount it. And so I can eat fish again."

"I would love to help," said Faindan. "After all, killing Goblins is what we Divine Knights do. But obviously, I'm not in any shape to be fighting."

"Of course," said Gelarro. "I wouldn't ask it of you. If, after you rest here a bit, you happen to feel up to the challenge..."

"I only have one hand," Faindan pointed out.

"Yet you can still fight," said Gelarro. "You slew a mighty Wolf. But, again, I wouldn't ask such a favor of you. I leave it totally in your han..." He cleared his throat. "I leave it totally up to you."

"The stew smells delicious," said Faindan. "A bit of ale would be excellent too if you've got any. Enough ale to send me into a sleep my pain cannot breach. All I want to do is forget this miserable world."

"Consider it done," said Gelarro. "I shall fill your mug as many times as you desire, oh warrior of the Sacred Kingdom--with my most expensive Dwarven ale. You will sink into a slumber so deep you won't feel a thing, and awaken refreshed to a hot breakfast of bacon, eggs, and tea."

"Such royal treatment," mused Faindan. "And how rude it would be if I rested here, healed, and left you with your slimy, fish-eating Goblin."

"Do you speak for me, great Knight?" asked Gelarro. "Because those words never crossed my lips. Your home is mine until you choose to leave, and I require no payment of any kind. Why should I pay a defender of Silverland, who made war on Bellis? I am not that greedy."

"You're a good man, Gelarro," said Faindan. "If I am strong enough to battle your river beast, consider it done. Why don't you see to that stew?"

Gelarro bowed twice. "Of course. You may remain in your comfortable chair. I will bring the bowl to you."

Faindan couldn't help but grin broadly. "I feel like a king. This must be how that tyrant Verlamer lives each and every day. It's a wonder his belly isn't fat and his muscles weak from lack of use. Since you're so inclined to treat me with such hospitality, perhaps you can provide me with a pipe and some tobacco after dinner. Preferably Birlote leaf."

Gelarro hesitated, then smiled. "I do indeed have Birlote leaf--from Borenthia itself. It tastes like apples and will delight the soul. Do you like apples?"

"Apples, pears, plums--makes no difference to me," said Faindan. "You bring it, I'll smoke it. Anything Birlote is good."

"Except the ale," Gelarro pointed out. "Too weak."

"Except the ale," Faindan echoed. "That's right. Give me Olrog ale any day of the week and especially today."

Gelarro headed off to get the food and drink.

Soon Faindan was engaged in a delicious feast--beef stew in gravy and crusty, buttered bread. He ate and drank until his belly hurt and he could hold no more, then he leaned back in the padded chair, savoring a delicious smoke.

Gelarro pulled a chair close to him, so the two were facing each other. Gelarro lit his own pipe. "A Blue Knight of Dremlock," he said, still bearing his curious expression.

Faindan nodded. "Yes, a spy and assassin. That's me. But I don't feel like answering any questions right now. In fact, I'm soon to fall asleep. But before I do, I would like to know a few things about you. Why no wife or children? As a Divine Knight, I'm not allowed any, so I always feel surprised when I see others who could marry and raise a family neglecting to do so."

"Maybe it was simply my choice," said Gelarro. "Perhaps I find women and children annoying. Perhaps I hate babies. Does that make me less of a man somehow?"

"Your way of life is your own business," said Faindan. "But I sense that's not your situation. Why don't you tell me what really happened?" The ale was already getting to Faindan, causing him to slur his words a bit. His pain was dulled along with his wits, and he spoke whatever came to mind.

Gelarro looked away, a haunted expression on his face. "The soldiers of Bellis came and liked what they saw--a beautiful wife and daughter. They took them away, supposedly to punish me for paintings that so deeply offended them--paintings of war against Bellis, of the great dome burning. Can you even imagine how deeply I suffered, watching them take my wife?" His eyes widened. "And my daughter--who was only thirteen and so kind-hearted she saved bugs from drowning--dragged off to a fate too horrible to contemplate. I didn't sleep for days, until I finally collapsed from exhaustion. I wanted to end my own life, but I stayed alive because of the slim hope that they too might survive and seek me out again."

Faindan sighed. "Horrible beyond words, my friend. What can I say that will bring you peace? Nothing, really. I can't even guarantee that Dremlock will defeat Bellis, considering we are hopelessly outnumbered by Verlamer's warriors. I thought I knew pain when I cut off my hand, but your pain is unfathomable to me." He drained his ale mug and it slipped from his fingers and thudded to the floor.

Gelarro lifted it and filled it, handing it back to Faindan.

"Look around," said Gelarro. "You see my colorful home, with all of its statues and paintings? Crammed full, with more to come. Soon there will be little space for living. This home is actually a dreary prison, a place of such loss that I despise it and am always trying to change it with more artwork. But nothing I do matters. Each morning when I awaken, I expect to hear their voices, but there is only wretched silence to remind me that life is heartless and cruel."

"Life is heartless," Faindan repeated, raising his stump of a wrist. "Well, not all of it. Our god is just and merciful and good."

Gelarro sneered. "Then why didn't your wonderful god protect my wife and daughter, who, at best, will receive a life of slavery and hardship? My daughter, so young and innocent, dragged away screaming by grinning, evil men. Where was your god then?"

"My god could do nothing," Faindan admitted. "It is a helpless god, unable to walk--trapped forever in a chamber of crystal. It is only a piece of a god--a Flamestone that represents the White Guardian's mind. It has to rely on its Knights to get stuff done, and we failed you, Gelarro. We failed you miserably."

Gelarro guzzled some ale, then bowed his head. At last he said, "Don't blame yourself, Faindan. Mortal men and women can only do so much--even if they're great Knights. And I won't blame any god--not even the Great Light that hovers above the mountain like a watchful eye--for it is left to us mortals to freely choose how we treat others. There is no one to blame except those with evil hearts."

Faindan didn't respond. He was slipping away.

"I know it is absurd," said Gelarro, "but I feel like if I can just kill the Goblin in the moat and stuff it--to display proudly in my home--my pain will somehow diminish. I have tried for years, but it is a mighty creature. If you succeed, I will be forever grateful to you."

Faindan nodded, and then his mind went dark.

***

Faindan ended up spending five days at the artist's house, during which time he healed up thanks to plenty of rest and meditation. The two became friends, and Gelarro painted a picture of the young Knight holding his Flayer in one hand and with his missing hand thrust into a cloak pocket. The painting captured a determined but uncertain face darkened by stubble, with black hair that was in need of a trim. In the background was a fiery crimson sky from the setting sun.

"It is yours, if you want it," said Gelarro, the next morning.

Faindan declined. "Keep it, my friend. Maybe you can sell it to someone and earn back some of your money for wasting food on this sorry excuse for a Knight. Which reminds me--you should be paid a bit of silver for this."

"Nonsense," said Gelarro, looking offended. "I will keep the painting as payment enough and I will not sell it. It is one of my best."

It was time for Gelarro to head to town to sell some of his art. He loaded up his small wagon and went off down the road, leaving Faindan in charge of his home. Faindan ate some bacon and eggs for breakfast, drank two cups of tea, and then wandered outside.

It was a pleasant morning, with a bit of dew still on the grass and the air warming quickly as the sun climbed into the sky. Birds chirped from the rooftop and frogs croaked in the river. Faindan inhaled fresh air and then strode down the river bank to the water's edge. He gazed at the murky water that wound between the hills, with the broken, mossy drawbridge sticking out of it--an old and slimy castle moat from ancient times, the water too dark to peer into.

Faindan studied the crumbing stone tower that rose from the water. If the Goblin liked to linger by the base of the tower, all Faindan would have to do is wait for it to show up and then attack. He sat down on the bank and waited, determined to slay the beast and give its body to Gelarro. He had his doubts that it would improve the artist's gloomy mood, but he felt obligated to try and help anyway.

It troubled Faindan deeply to think of the pain Gelarro was enduring, and it fueled his anger toward Bellis. Those weren't Knights who had taken Gelarro's wife and daughter. They were heartless cowards--especially if they had harmed the two girls in any way. He wondered how people could be so wicked and selfish as to inflict such misery on others? How could they sleep at night knowing what they had done? Faindan wanted to crush Bellis and to behead King Verlamer, but he was just a lone Knight with a missing hand--seemingly powerless in the grand scheme of things. Bellis could do what it wanted, however evil.

"Just an idiot on a river bank," he mumbled, tossing a stone into the black water. "Soon to be just another failed Knight banished from the Order." He felt even more idiotic for talking to himself, but he kept on. "Come on, you wretched Goblin! Come forth and die so I can be on my way!"

But the Goblin didn't show, as the hours passed by. Faindan fidgeted restlessly on the bank. Finally he rose and tried stirring up the water with stones, but nothing responded. Finally he slumped back down with a sigh.

Faindan dozed off periodically, as the day grew hotter toward noon and he began to sweat--eventually awakening to a startling sight. Something strange was floating down the river, moving toward him. At first he thought it was a dark mass of tree roots, considering how still the object was, but then he realized it was moving against the current. As it drew close, Faindan's heart raced in his chest, for he could make out warty flesh and two large round eyes.

The creature neared the tower, and Faindan slowly drew his Flayer. The beast's tentacles writhed about and it sank below the surface. Faindan leapt up, watching the water, but it did not surface.

"Come back up!" he yelled, throwing a stone at it. He waved his arms and yelled some more, but the river flowed on undisturbed.

Faindan's eyes narrowed. "I'll bet you're hiding by the tower, stuck fast to the slimy stone and waiting for fish. Now you're mine, Goblin!"

Faindan quietly slipped into the murky water next to the tower and waded around it. There was a quick drop off and the water was up to his chest. He hesitated, chills rippling over his flesh. His inability to see below the surface was quite disturbing, and for a moment he considered abandoning this idea. He assumed the fish-eating Goblin wouldn't be much of a match for a Divine Knight, one hand or not, but the thought of it snagging his legs in the dark depths made him shudder.

Nevertheless, he moved on around the tower, determined to give Gelarro what he wanted. When he reached the area of the tower that was furthest out in the river, the water was still at chest level. His arm had grown tired, and his Flayer was resting below the surface. He decided he would begin randomly striking at the base and hope he connected with Goblin flesh. His biggest fear was that the beast would flee down the river.

Then something struck him with a dastardly jolt--almost like an electric shock tearing through his muscles. Powerful tentacles wound around him, squeezing with such force that only his Knightly sorcery saved him by shielding his body. He could barely breathe before he was yanked below the surface.

Faindan was stunned and horrified. He had never expected the Goblin to attack with such speed, strength, and fury. Too late he realized and this was no simple fish eater but a mighty, bone-crushing foe--probably an ancient beast that had been put in the moat when the castle was still standing.

Faindan fought back with everything he had, but in a few moments he realized he was going to drown. He realized Gelarro would find him dead--his skeleton and his clothes, if nothing else--and the artist's despair would grow. Faindan had made the biggest error of his life, wading into the river for an easy kill and being ambushed by something he had no hope of defeating.

His mind began to grow dim, and he stopped fighting, waiting for death to take him. It seemed his time in the world had reached an end.

Then a bright light seemed to flood the water--a piercing light that entered his body, mind, heart, and soul and filled him with energy and strength. Suddenly a magnificent bearded Knight was standing before him, filling his vision--a huge, muscular warrior wearing the shining silver breastplate that only a Lord Knight of Dremlock wore. This great Knight had a commanding and divine presence, his flesh and armor engulfed in a radiant glow.

It was Kuran Darkender.

The vision was unmistakable. This was the first and greatest Lord Knight of Dremlock, his image burned deeply into the mind of every Divine Knight. For a few moments all Faindan knew was the glory and presence of this great warrior, and then he broke free of the Goblin's tentacles, tearing the slimy things apart. His Flayer drove deep into the beast, finding its heart and finishing it.

Moments later Faindan somehow found himself on the river bank with the slain Goblin lying next to him. He was alive and unharmed.

Kuran Darkender was gone.

***

When Gelarro returned, Faindan said nothing about his vision of Kuran Darkender. That was Knightly business and not something for the artist's ears. Gelarro was delighted to see the dead Goblin. He knelt by the creature on the river bank and stroked its tentacles, an awed look on his face.

"What an amazing beast," Gelarro said, shaking his head. "Who knows how old it is? It came up the river a few years ago and cleaned out nearly all the fish. But its fishing days are done with. I hope killing it wasn't too much trouble."

"Not at all," said Faindan. "I killed it with a single blow."

The artist looked a bit disappointed. "I would have thought the battle would be a bit more perilous than that. Ah well. Maybe my imagination got the best of me in thinking this beast was such a menace."

Realizing his mistake, Faindan said, "Oh, it was a perilous fight. Actually, I'm rather fortunate to be alive."

Gelarro raised his eyebrows, and his smile returned. "Well then, perhaps I should pay you a bit of silver for your troubles. I did well in town and have some to spare." He reached into his tunic pocket, but Faindan shook his head.

"Keep your silver. You've done enough for me."

"And yet you've done so much more for me," said Gelarro. "You made my river safe again and gave me something to decorate my home--something that is sure to improve my mood. You see, when I awaken on a cold, dreary morning to cruel silence, and I think to myself that there are heartless monsters in the world, I will look upon this Goblin and know that some monsters are just savage beasts seeking to feed. They are not evil like humans are. I can't explain it, but that means something to me. The sight of this beast is refreshing--because this is evil in a simple and childish way. Not the twisted, abhorrent, and complex ways of humanity. The real monsters are humans without conscience, not hungry Goblins just looking for food." He sighed, as if unable to clearly speak his thoughts. "It's silly, I know."

"It isn't silly at all," said Faindan, though he didn't understand. Goblins were born of evil--the children of the Deep Shadow. It seemed that Gelarro was confused from so much pain, grasping at thoughts that made perfect sense to him but were incoherent to Faindan. Regardless, he seemed to be having a moment of joy, and that made the bitter fight with the Goblin seem worth it.

"I must ride on now," said Faindan. "Farewell."

Gelarro nodded. "Farewell, great Knight of the Divine Order. If...if you ever..." He fought back emotion. "If you ever happen to encounter my wife and daughter, their names are..." He clutched his forehead and groaned. "Their names are Leiathell--my wife--and Caithlin. Last name of Braxul. Blonde hair, blue eyes..." He hung his head in sorrow.

"Leiathell and Caithlin," Faindan repeated gently. "Blonde hair and blue eyes. I will remember this and watch for them."

Gelarro bowed. "I thank you so much..."

Faindan left him there, kneeling on the bank by his dead Goblin. He rode away from the lonely house without looking back.

### Chapter 11:

The Celebration that was Ill Fated

Lannon Sunshield and the Divine Knights rode into the Soddurn Mountains along rocky, narrow trails that led between boulders and stunted pines. The thick fog, steep slopes, and muddy ground made the journey treacherous, as the horses slipped and stumbled. After the attack on Lannon and Bekka, the Knights were staying fully alert, riding in silence and watching everything (or as much as could be watched with the dreadfully thick mist shrouding the landscape).

Bekka was still unconscious--lying in the back of a wagon--since being bitten by the Ghoul. She moaned and writhed about in her sleep, waving her arms as if to ward off unseen foes. Whatever nightmare she was trapped in was too horrible for the others to imagine, yet they could do nothing to wake her. Dallsa had already spent hours working on Bekka, yet she showed little sign of improvement.

Everyone wanted to get through the Soddurn Mountains quickly and without further incident, but the going was torturously slow. They felt like arrogant intruders (and perhaps they were), boldly daring to venture where so many others had perished over the centuries. The Knights were supposed to fear these mountains and go around them, as most everyone else did, but with the White Flamestone in their possession, they rode straight into the gloomy peaks where forgotten horrors of the Deep Shadow lurked and hungered for human flesh.

They made camp for the evening on a fairly level area amidst some pines. They built a bonfire with dead, grey trees that looked like a huge pile of burning bones. Smoldering pieces of ash drifted with the breeze beneath the pine boughs. They cooked bear meat for dinner, and a young Blue Knight named Garaloth Demonfoe played melodies on a flute. Garaloth was a short, stocky Red Knight with red hair and a beard and a constant cheerful expression. He had been trained as a bard and was also the scribe and record keeper.

"There is so much gloom in these mountains," said Garaloth, "that I propose we hold a Knightly celebration--a Crimson Feast to be more precise. We need to show these slaves of Tharnin that we do not fear them, that Divine Knights will make merry anywhere and under any circumstances."

Lannon had never taken part in a Crimson Feast before. This was just one of many rituals and celebrations held by Dremlock. He glanced down at Taith, who was standing next to him looking bored.

"Would you like to celebrate with us?" Lannon asked.

"No," said Taith. "Why should we celebrate? I don't like these mountains. They make me feel sad and afraid, like all of us are going to die."

"That's the presence of the Deep Shadow," said Lannon. "It gets into the mind and tries to drain your will. You have to learn to resist it."

"I don't like the Deep Shadow," said Taith. "Don't like it one bit. Can't we just keep riding until we get through the mountains?"

Lannon didn't bother to answer.

"I think we should indeed celebrate," said Aldreya. "It would make a powerful statement--to hold a Crimson Feast in the Soddurn Mountains."

"Yet it could also offend our enemies," said Jace. "It could stir up the evil against us and make our foes bold. That could lead to bloodshed."

"Bloodshed has already occurred," said Aldreya. "Bekka Nightspear lies in the back of a wagon, seemingly more dead than alive. She hasn't gotten a moment of rest since being bitten. The Soddurn Mountains struck first, and now it is up to us to respond. We will show our defiance."

"I'm with Jace on this," said Vorden, who was leaning against a pine and holding his spiked shield. His face looked troubled. "I know more about the Deep Shadow than anyone here. I was a prisoner of it for a long time. I suggest we just quietly slip through the mountains, as quickly as we can. With Lannon and Prince Vannas riding with us, the servants of Tharnin may simply opt to let us pass through. But not if we hold this feast. If we dare to honor the Crimson Flamestone that killed so many creatures of Tharnin, we are sure to be attacked."

"Listen to Vorden," said Jace. "He, above all others, is wise in the ways of Tharnin. Let us simply eat, sleep, and ride on come morning."

"Perhaps my suggestion was foolish," said Garaloth. He sighed and ran his fingers through his red hair. "I...I wasn't really thinking about the consequences. I certainly don't want to stir up our foes."

"Why not?" said Jerret. "Bekka is suffering wretchedly. And as Divine Knights we're supposed to simply ignore that and slink off through the mountains? We need a bold statement--one that will set an example for all the land. So many Knights have vanished here. We owe it to them to show we are not afraid."

Aldreya smiled. "Well said, Jerret. I very much agree."

Galvia patted Jerret on the back. "You are growing more wise each day, my very good friend. Yes, we need to show Tharnin what we're made of."

"Even if we hold this feast," said Prince Vannas, "Tharnin will not dare attack us. They would burn in white fire. No, our foes will hide in the fog and fear us like the cowards they are."

"But there is a fortress in these peaks," said Jace, "called Wallrock. Many Knights were taken to that foul place and met some terrible end. I do not speak in jest. There is a real fortress filled with real enemies of immense power that could be unleashed upon us. Have we come here to start a war? No, our goal is the Green Flamestone and our conflict with Bellis."

"We have not come to start a war," said Aldreya, "but we are Divine Knights, and wherever we go, we must display the banner of Dremlock and the Divine Essence. It is our duty to never show fear or weakness."

Jace sighed. "With all due respect, Green Knight, you're not thinking clearly. This isn't about fear or weakness. Sometimes stealth and avoidance of conflict is desirable, and I firmly believe that is the case right now."

"I'm with Vorden and Jace," said Lothrin. "No need for us to hold this celebration when we can quietly go about our business."

"I want a feast," said Daledus. "And a grand one at that. With a crimson bonfire and everything else. We shall make this mountain bow to our will."

"What is your opinion, Lannon?" asked Aldreya.

"Lannon wants to leave here quickly," Taith answered, "without any feast." He squeezed Lannon's arm. "Right, Lannon?"

"You don't speak for me, Taith," Lannon said firmly. "Now go sit down and stay out of this discussion." He pointed at a log.

Sighing, Taith shuffled over and sat.

"I'm not sure I want to hold the feast," said Lannon. "I love Dremlock's traditions, and I do want to honor all the Knights who have died in these mountains...but I don't know. We don't want to start a war up here."

"I need a firm decision from you," said Aldreya.

Lannon hesitated, then said, "My decision is...it would be best if we didn't hold the feast. I'm trusting Jace and Vorden on that."

"Some are in favor, some are against," said Aldreya. "So who feels comfortable with me making the final decision?"

The Council Members all raised hands.

"Very well," said Aldreya. She stood in silence for a time, then said, "I can almost feel the souls of the fallen around me. I can almost hear them asking for this feast to show they did not die in vain. I think the Divine Essence would want this. Therefore, we will go ahead with it."

Vorden slammed his shield down and walked away.

Jace nodded. "So be it. We must be cautious, then, and limit how much wine and ale we drink. We will have to watch everything."

Garaloth shrugged, then threw a concoction into the fire and changed it to a crimson hue. He said, "Well, looks like we're going to do this. I must admit I feel a bit apprehensive in light of our conversation. But..." He grinned broadly. "But if we're going to proceed, let us celebrate like Divine Knights!"

The crowd cheered.

Garaloth raised his arms proudly and said, "We hold this feast in honor of the dead--those valiant Knights who dared enter these mountains, for whatever reasons they had at the time, and found only suffering and death." He bowed his head. "Indeed, we cannot even imagine what they endured, in the blood-soaked cliffs and in that terrible fortress of Wallrock where all hope and goodness has withered away. They must have felt so alone and so far from home."

Garaloth stood in silence for a few moments. Then he went on, in a louder voice: "And we are here to honor the Crimson Flamestone, the Blood of the Divine Essence that cleansed the world of the Barloak Demons."

A burst of spark and flame rose from the fire.

Garaloth suddenly turned, and his eyes were glowing crimson. A gasp arose from the Knights. He said: "We also hold this feast in honor of Ethrin, son of Lothrin, that he may be the first in over two-thousand years--two-thousand years\--to hold the Crimson Flamestone in his hands."

The Knights looked on in amazement, for they knew the Divine Essence was speaking through Garaloth. It was no longer the Red Knight before them, but a human vessel filled with the mind of their god.

Aldreya turned to Lothrin, an expression of awe on her face. "Our god speaks of your future son, Lothrin. Respond!"

Lothrin stepped forward, his face pale. "My future son will be named Ethrin? Yet how will I produce a son if I remain a Divine Knight?"

"Ethrin Windbow will be his name," replied the Divine Essence. "I command it to be so. You must strive to bear a son--when the time is right--and name him such. Yet the Sacred Laws cannot be broken."

Lothrin reached up and touched the strange, leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. "Then Ethrin will be the one. He will be marked by the leaf that burns. Only he will be able to remove the Crimson Flamestone from its bed of straw, where Olzet Ka, our mighty king, placed it so long ago." He spoke with deep reverence.

Lannon couldn't believe what he was seeing. Was the Divine Essence actually speaking through Garaloth, or was it some trick of the Deep Shadow? Lannon could feel the presence of his god, however, and his doubts vanished. He glanced about and saw only expressions of shock and wonder.

Jace's eyes were fierce with emotion as he watched the scene unfold. At last, the huge sorcerer stepped close to Lothrin and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You must tell us more, oh mighty lord of Dremlock! Tell us everything that you know so we will understand how to serve you better!"

"I know only this," said the Divine Essence, again speaking through Garaloth. "My blood must be free again in the land, or there will be no land. All of the Flamestones are one, even though they remain apart. Find one, and it will lead you to another. I will go silent now for seven years, during which time many things will be decided. There will certainly be much pain and loss, but if my Knights stay strong and true, there will be victory as well."

Lannon and Prince Vannas stepped forward, waiting for words of wisdom. As the two most important warriors at Dremlock, they hoped the Divine Essence would take a moment to guide them. But their god hadn't appeared for that purpose, and Garaloth's lips spoke no more.

Finally, Garaloth's eyes became normal.

"Incredible," said Jace. "I haven't seen such a thing...well, ever. Not that it hasn't happened before, but I wasn't around to see it."

Lothrin looked stunned. "Our god wants me to produce a son and name him Ethrin Windbow. The name makes sense. It is one of Birlote royalty. But...I am to produce a son without violating the Sacred Laws that forbid marriage? It is impossible!"

"In time, anything is possible," said Aldreya.

"Your son will hold the Crimson Flamestone?" said Prince Vannas, looking skeptical. "While I trust in our god, it just doesn't seem likely. Any son of yours, Lothrin, would be inclined to spend his days hunting and fishing and wandering the forest, not wielding a Flamestone."

"Lothrin's son might gain possession of it," said Jace. "He apparently has the potential to remove it from the straw. This is a huge revelation, my friends. This is what I have been seeking for a long time, because I know only the Flamestones can defeat Bellis and the Deep Shadow now."

"But this is crazy!" said Lothrin. "I don't have a son! I'm limited only to friendship with women. Therefore, how can I produce a son?"

"Knights do retire and marry," Lannon pointed out. That seemed the obvious answer, but that meant that Lothrin would have to keep himself alive for a long time--not always an easy task for a Divine Knight.

"Yet that could be decades from now," said Lothrin, "if it ever happens. Am I supposed to wait that long? Am I supposed to worry that I will fall in battle and my future son will never be born?"

"I don't have an answer," said Jace. "Don't worry about it."

Lothrin shook his head in disbelief. "Don't worry about it? This is... I don't even know where to begin. How can I not worry about it?"

"The time isn't right, obviously," said Jace. "Are you still a Knight? Yes. Are you married? No. Therefore, how can you strive to produce a son? You cannot, and so this isn't the time to worry about it. In fact, there is no guarantee you will even survive Knighthood to produce a son. You're a mortal man, Lothrin, and can only do so much. So just relax and trust your god."

"Trust our god," Lannon corrected.

Jace shrugged, looking a bit uncomfortable. "I'm not exactly the religious sort, mind you. I do try to serve the side of good, however--which is why I'm here. Well, that and to earn a bit of money. Bear in mind I'm not actually a Divine Knight anymore and don't have to obey your Sacred Laws." He cleared his throat. "That aside, I'm always willing to listen to a superior being."

Lothrin sighed and rubbed his forehead. "This is all so unexpected. Suddenly I feel like I bear a great responsibility."

"Calm yourself, young man," said Jace. "As I said, the time isn't right for such concerns. Always stay relaxed, like I do. It's good for the body."

But Jace didn't look relaxed at all. He paced about and tried to puff at his pipe without it being lit. Confused, he glanced at the bowl, then fumbled around for some matches. He lit the pipe, then laid it on a rock without taking a puff. He sat down on a log, his eyes filled with contemplation over what he had witnessed.

***

The celebration went on for a couple hours, as Knights wandered about the camp talking and laughing or sat with their backs against boulders or pines. Some drank a bit too much ale (in spite of being ordered not to by Aldreya) and dozed off by the fire. They felt like they had conquered the Soddurn Mountains, with the blazing crimson fire sending flame and spark high into the air as a warning to the servants of Tharnin to stay away. The smell of cooked bear meat lingered, mixed with pipe smoke and a strange, spicy scent that emanated from the bonfire and invoked nostalgic feelings within the Knights for Dremlock Kingdom.

But not everyone was celebrating.

Dallsa remained with Bekka in an attempt to heal her or at least diminish her suffering. Dallsa was weary and sad, her energy low from working too steadily at her task. She was in dire need of rest--barely able to stay awake as she sat in the back of the wagon--yet Bekka was in such a grim state from the evil that infested her body that Dallsa simply couldn't leave her like that. No one else could help, though Lannon had Taith bring Dallsa food and water and whatever else she needed. Taith complained about having to serve, but he did as Lannon commanded and was careful and thorough in his tasks.

Another Knight wasn't celebrating--Vorden Flameblade. He stood apart from the others amongst the trees, once again holding his spiked shield. He bore a sullen expression and was not inclined to speak to anyone.

At last, Lannon approached him. The two stood in the shadows beyond the firelight and feast--a cloaked Dark Watchman who wore no armor and a muscular Knight who looked like an armored wall.

"What's wrong?" Lannon asked, though he already knew the answer. Vorden was angry that they had ignored his advice and had chosen to celebrate.

Vorden glared at him. His yellow eyes shone in the dark.

"You should come back to camp," said Lannon, "and eat something. The food is delicious. You should try Lothrin's fried mushrooms."

"Why do you sorcerers like mushrooms so much?" asked Vorden. "I don't care for them. I prefer meat and potatoes."

Lannon shrugged. "I never noticed that sorcerers in particular like mushrooms." He considered it, then added, "Come to think of it, though, Jace and Aldreya both seem to love them. Hmm... I never actually used to like mushrooms until I arrived at Dremlock. They're one of my favorite foods these days."

Vorden scowled. "Count me out."

"What about some bear meat?" asked Lannon. "Jace cooked it. The seasoning on it is amazing, though he won't tell anyone what the ingredients are. He seems to think his recipes are important secrets."

Vorden shook his head. "My stomach would not allow it, Lannon. I know everyone is enjoying themselves--and maybe they should, considering what we're facing on this mission. But I can't be part of it. Not here. This place sickens me. These mountains are so infested with the Deep Shadow it seems to smother me. I feel short of breath, actually."

"I can't say I know what you're feeling," said Lannon. "But I do sense the presence of Tharnin here, and it is ugly. I'm guessing that slumber will bring about some nasty dreams."

"It's not just that," said Vorden. "These mountains remind me of who I once was. The evil deeds of my past seem so fresh in my mind tonight. I still can't believe or accept the fact that I brought so much suffering to the land. Don't bother telling me it wasn't my fault, that the Hand of Tharnin was using me. I still feel like a weakling for failing to free myself from it."

"Yet you are a Divine Knight," said Lannon. "That says everything. If the High Council had believed you were even slightly responsible, you would have been thrown out of the Order. Obviously, Taris and the others have great faith in you. You still bear the scars of the Deep Shadow and yet you have earned the trust of the other Knights. That's nothing short of astonishing."

"Save your praise, Lannon," said Vorden. "It's not going to help. Timlin is dead because of me, his soul tainted by Tharnin. I wonder if he can even find peace, or if he is cursed as a restless spirit like the Dark Watchmen."

"But it wasn't you who killed Timlin," Lannon pointed out. "I'm the one who has to live with that burden. I wanted to save him, but I failed."

Vorden shook his head. "Timlin was already hopelessly lost when you slew him, all thanks to me. I took control of his mind and set him on the path of doom. You only did what you had to do."

"No," said Lannon. "Timlin burned the Red Candle at Dremlock. He made a choice to seek out the Blood Legion, before the Hand of Tharnin had any influence over him. He chose his own fate."

Vorden looked away. "Regardless, the darkness here will torture me every step of the way. There is nothing to be done about it."

Lannon patted him on the back. "Come and have some food." With that, he returned to camp, feeling frustrated that he couldn't help Vorden. Vorden's scars ran deeper than Lannon could comprehend.

***

Lannon arrived at the bonfire to find Lothrin upset. The Ranger had noticed that Prince Vannas was missing, and the festive mood had turned grim. They searched for the prince briefly and then decided he must have intentionally wandered off again. With the White Flamestone to guide Vannas, the others were not overly concerned. It seemed to be the will of the Divine Essence that Vannas leave camp from time to time to meditate on his abilities.

Yet Lothrin remained agitated, as he spoke with Lannon and Aldreya. "What if he was abducted by servants of Tharnin?" he asked. "Maybe our Crimson Feast is the reason he is gone. Or perhaps the Lawkeeper and his warriors took him, and the White Flamestone now belongs to Bellis."

"Doubtful," Aldreya replied, "considering what happened last time. It would be foolish for us to wander around in these mountains in the endless fog, when he probably will return to camp on his own soon enough."

"I agree," said Lannon. "We need to give him time."

"Yet I have a terrible feeling of dread," said Lothrin. "It's like a voice is whispering in my mind that Prince Vannas is in great peril."

"It could be the Deep Shadow," said Aldreya, "seeking to trick us. Perhaps it wants to lure us away from camp."

"Or it could simply be my instincts," said Lothrin. "Lannon, why don't you at least lead a small party into the fog and search for his trail?"

"It isn't necessary," said Aldreya. "We already know he is prone to leaving without warning. The wise response is to wait."

"Then I will go myself," said Lothrin. He adjusted his bow and quiver of arrows. "I will attempt to track him down."

"It would be very difficult," said Lannon, "with the dense fog. Even for a Ranger like you. You could get lost, and there might be more of those ghouls wandering about. I don't want you to end up like Bekka."

Lothrin nodded. "Nevertheless, I will go...and risk the life of my future son if need be. My cousin needs me."

"No," said Aldreya. "I order you to remain in camp."

Lothrin fixed a pleading gaze on Lannon. "As a friend, I'm asking you to lead a search party. Just until you find his trail. Then we will return. If anything evil took him, you should be able to sense it."

Lothrin seemed thoroughly convinced that something bad had happened to Prince Vannas. Lannon decided he shouldn't ignore the Ranger's instincts. "Very well," he said. "I suppose we can do a brief search and make sure he left the camp alone. It's a good idea, actually."

"Be careful out there," said Aldreya.

Lannon and Lothrin were joined by Jace, who also was worried about Prince Vannas. The three left camp and wandered off amongst the pines and boulders. Lannon probed the fog, and at last he located Vannas' trail.

The prince had left camp alone.

"There you have it," said Lannon. "Once again he simply wandered off. I guess all we can do is return to camp and await his return."

Lothrin nodded, but still looked doubtful.

"Follow the trail, Lannon," said Jace. "I want to see where it leads."

They went a bit further, and then Lannon caught a glimpse of something horrific--traces of a monstrous evil like nothing Lannon had ever encountered. Dark sorcery lingered like a poisonous fog before Lannon, and instead of one trail belonging to the prince leading into the mountains, there were now two trails--Vannas and the source of the evil magic.

"Your face has gone pale, Lannon," said Jace. "What do you see?"

"What has become of my cousin?" asked Lothrin, seizing Lannon's cloak.

"We have a huge problem," said Lannon, his heart sinking.

***

"It should never have come to this," said Aldreya, who stood with the others at the center of camp. The bonfire had died down some and was no longer crimson. The celebration was over, but instead of Knights slipping into their tents to sleep under warm quits, they stood in the chill air with gloom in their hearts, wondering if they were a bunch of fools.

Everyone wondered if this was the end of Prince Vannas and Dremlock's possession of the White Flamestone. If so, they would lose their primary weapon against Bellis Kingdom.

"What were we thinking?" said Aldreya, her voice filled with disgust. "Why did we let Prince Vannas leave camp alone? I have no answer--except that perhaps we have been too sure of ourselves lately. Perhaps we have been arrogant and not fit to represent Ollanhar. Now our prince has fallen into the grasp of evil, and the White Flamestone has gone to our enemies."

"Yet what could we do?" said Lannon. "It seems the Divine Essence wanted the prince to wander alone--or at least it inspired him to do so. Also, once again no one saw him leave, so how could we have stopped him?"

"I don't understand," said Lothrin. "Why would our god lead him astray and put him in such danger? It seems terribly foolish."

"The prince was likely in a trance," said Jace. "The White Flamestone led him from camp, and we could not have prevented it. Under normal circumstances, Vannas would have been perfectly safe. But there is evil in these mountains that can challenge even the power of a god. The Divine Essence did not send Vannas into the hands of that evil. The prince went because he was compelled to go, regardless of the risks. This is sorcery at work, my friends, and sorcery cannot always be easily understood or controlled. No one is to blame for this."

But Aldreya looked dismayed. "No, I will take the blame. I made two dire mistakes this evening. I should not have allowed the Crimson Feast to proceed, and I should have ordered a Divine Shield be placed around the prince. Now I have jeopardized everything--the very future of our land."

"I sensed something like this was going to happen," said Vorden, sounding bitter. "We enraged the Deep Shadow, and now we will have to go to war with it. These mountains torture my soul, reminding me constantly of what I endured when I was a slave to the Hand of Tharnin. All I wanted was to get through them as swiftly as possible--yet now we must journey into the darkest reaches of the Soddurn Mountains and make bloody war on our foes."

Aldreya bowed her head. "I am truly sorry."

"You're being too hard on yourself," said Lannon, feeling as if he should defend her. "Since when have we lived in fear of angering the Deep Shadow? That has never been our way. And the issue with Vannas--well, none of us saw that coming. He must have been caught completely off guard."

"Blame the High Council of Dremlock," said Daledus, "if someone must be blamed. They're the ones who ordered Prince Vannas to come on this mission. He could have remained at Ollanhar instead, well defended. We cannot know why they chose to send him, but it seems like a foolish move in light of what has happened. They chose to risk everything to get this Green Flamestone."

"It was not a foolish decision," said Jace. "The High Council knows that the White Flamestone alone--immensely powerful though it is--is probably not enough to defeat Bellis. It will take another Flamestone as well. This was a necessary gamble, but obviously things have turned sour for the time being."

"We can't change what happened," said Jerret, "so none of this talk matters. We're going to have to track down the prince and face whatever foes we must face. And we need to act quickly. So who is going with me?"

"Me, of course," said Galvia, punching him lightly on the shoulder. The two Red Knights exchanged a smile, eager for combat.

"I assume most of us are going," said Aldreya. "Dallsa will have to take a break from assisting Bekka, as the prince might be wounded and in need of her skills. I want to leave our Knights here and at least one Council Member to guard the camp. That will leave the remaining Council Members alone to make the journey. A small party--but a formidable one."

"Is it wise," asked Lannon, "to leave our Knights behind? We could find ourselves facing an army in these mountains."

"We need to protect the camp," said Aldreya. "If we lose our wagons and our goods, our mission will be much more difficult. Also, we may have to rely on stealth to rescue the prince, and a large party makes stealth difficult."

Lannon was unable to find fault with her logic.

"So who from the Council wishes to remain?" asked Aldreya.

No one answered. They exchanged glances.

"Then I will choose someone," said Aldreya. She hesitated, then pointed at Galvia. "You are a born leader. I want you to stay and guard our camp, and command the Knights. If something should happen to us--if we fail to return--it will be up to you to go to Dremlock and report what happened."

Reluctantly, Galvia bowed.

Jerret patted her on the back. "Sorry, Galvia. I guess you won't be seeing any action on this night. Can't say I envy you."

Galvia shrugged, her broad face breaking into a smile. "Just make sure you kill an extra Goblin or two for me, Jerret."

"It will be my honor," said Jerret. "I'll have some stories to tell you over a mug or two of ale when I return."

Galvia leaned her war hammer against a pine tree and sighed. "I'm sure you will. Meanwhile, I guess I'll...tend the fire. Or something."

"Can you look after Taith?" asked Lannon.

"Of course," said Galvia. "Though it's past his bedtime and he will be going to sleep soon." She gave Taith a hard stare. "Isn't that right?"

"I won't be able to sleep," said Taith. "Too much going on." He gazed up at Lannon, his eyes wide. "What if you don't come back?"

"Fear not," said Lannon, winking at him. "We will return." He hesitated, then added, "But if for some reason we don't, you will be taken to Dremlock to be trained as a Squire regardless."

Taith folded his arms across his chest and bowed his head, looking unhappy.

Jerret and Galvia clasped hands. "Wish me luck," Jerret said.

She shook her head. "You won't need any. What about me?"

"You won't need any either," he said with a chuckle, "unless the boy proves too much for you."

Galvia waved dismissively. "Not a chance."

For an instant, Jerret hesitated, a somber look on his face. Then he said, "Goodbye, my friend."

Galvia pushed him away. "Enough talk. Go fight."

### Chapter 12:

The Trail of Darkness and Deception

After Lannon and the others had rode out of camp, Galvia found herself pacing about restlessly in front of the bonfire. She was vaguely aware that Taith was watching her. The boy was sitting on a rock, hands in his pockets, looking gloomy. Galvia wondered why her, of all the Knights, had to be left at camp. Surely her friends were going to find themselves engaged in brutal combat and would need her skills to ensure victory. Recently, her abilities had reached a new level. She had mastered her rare gift of Fire, a form of sorcery unique to the Grey Dwarves. She was eager to put it to the test against the servants of Tharnin.

"You look worried," said Taith. He picked up a stick and tossed it into the fire. A winged shadow soared across the campsite--an ugly shadow that indicated a Goblin Vulture out on the hunt. The horses snorted and stomped. Taith shivered.

Galvia glared at him. "I'm not worried--just pondering things. And you should be in bed." She waved him away. "Go to your tent and sleep, little man. We have a lot of riding to do tomorrow...after the others return."

Taith didn't move. "I'm worried too. What if Lannon never comes back? Who will look after me? Not Daledus, I hope."

"Daledus is a great warrior," said Galvia. "Show him some respect. He may seem harsh to you, but he would defend you with his life."

"That Dwarf scares me," said Taith, "and he's extremely loud like my father. I'm afraid he might beat me. But Lannon isn't like that. Lannon treats me kindly most of the time. I don't want anything bad to happen to him."

"Lannon is a Dark Watchman," said Galvia. "He can look after himself." The winged shadow passed over the campsite again, and Galvia glanced up, catching a glimpse of a dark, hideous shape.

"What does that mean?" asked Taith. "To be a Dark Watchman?"

Wolf howls came from the peaks, and then more howls erupted in response from another direction. Taith looked around fearfully. Goblin Wolves, by the sound of them. Other noises could be heard--strange cries and shrieks. The mountains were thoroughly infested with Goblins and other terrors.

Galvia hesitated, wondering how to respond. She wasn't sure she was qualified to answer that, considering how little she knew about Lannon and his predecessors. At last she said, "It means he's not a normal Knight. He's much more powerful--more like Taris Warhawk the sorcerer. But different even than Taris."

"Like Kuran Darkender, maybe?" asked Taith. "I saw his statue in the shrine. He looked very strong. Was he a Dark Watchman?"

Galvia shook her head. "Kuran Darkender was a shield-bearing Brown Knight, which was the first color class appointed by the Divine Essence. He was very powerful for a Knight, but he wasn't a Dark Watchman. Lannon has a special gift that not even Kuran Darkender possessed--the Eye of Divinity. It makes him more of a sorcerer than a warrior." She wasn't sure why she was bothering to explain all this to a mere lad, but talking about it seemed to make her feel better and restored her confidence that Lannon and the others would prevail.

"I have that power too," said Taith. "Well, I can't make it work right now, but maybe when I get older. I can't wait to learn how to use it."

Galvia nodded. "Your time will come, Taith."

They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the fire. The winged shadow did not return. The mountains seemed suddenly very quiet.

"Who would win in a fight?" asked Taith, finally breaking the silence. "Lannon, or Kuran Darkender? I'm betting Lannon would win."

Galvia laughed. It was a childish question, but one she found very interesting to contemplate. "It is said that Kuran Darkender was nearly invincible, but who knows? He never fought a Dark Watchman, to my knowledge. I've seen Lannon fight, and I know what he is capable of." She hesitated, not daring to suggest that Kuran Darkender could lose--but not wanting to diminish Lannon's stature either. At last she simply shrugged and said, "It would be an intriguing battle."

"I'd love to see that," said Taith, "as long as it wasn't to the death. You look like a strong warrior too, especially for a girl. You look like you could break me in half! I'm glad you're here to protect me."

Galvia nodded. "Amongst the Grey Dwarves, many of the women are as strong as the men. We can do everything they can do."

"Then where is your beard?" asked Taith. "Daledus seems to love his beard, even though he told me some of it was burned off. He said a thick beard is very important to a Grey Dwarf, yet you don't have one."

"Thankfully," said Galvia, rolling her eyes. "The men boast of their beards, but the women know it is meaningless and are just fine without them. It's all talk. Does a beard help in combat? No, it only gets in the way."

Taith laughed. "You would not look good with a beard. I just pictured that in my mind. It was not a pleasant thing to imagine."

"I would guess not," said Galvia, and they shared a laugh.

"Are your parents still alive?" asked Taith.

Galvia nodded. "Alive, and still fairly young by Olrog standards. I just got a letter from them two weeks ago. They are very proud of my progress. I haven't had a chance to write them back yet." That last statement made her anxious. Her father especially was waiting to hear from her, and she had so much to tell both of them. Emotion gripped her heart, but her face remained stony.

"Where did you grow up?" Taith asked.

"In a mountain city," said Galvia. "I spent most of my youth in tunnels and caverns. Life was very hard. All I did was work and study. Be glad you're not an Olrog, Taith. It's so much easier for me at Dremlock. It wasn't at first, when I was a Squire, but now that I'm a Knight I have more freedom. That's something you can look forward to."

"I want to be a great warrior like Lannon," said Taith. "I know he'll look after me and make sure I do my best."

Galvia smiled. "You've changed rather quickly. Not long ago you were very obnoxious, but now I find myself enjoying your company."

"Daledus changed me," said Taith, frowning. "He scares me. I never know what he's going to do or say. And his fists are huge."

"Don't be afraid of him," said Galvia. "Just show him respect."

Taith nodded, his eyes wide. "Definitely."

Garaloth Demonfoe, the self-appointed bard, approached them. He shivered, moving closer to the fire. "The night grows cold, my dear friends, and we are left to fend for ourselves against the mountains. The cold is everywhere thanks to the Deep Shadow." He raised his flute. "Perhaps a song would warm us."

"Later," said Galvia, not in the mood for music.

Garaloth bowed. "No worries. I only play to entertain and when everyone is in agreement." A shadow darkened his face. "Perhaps I wanted a bit of music only because the mountains seemed so quiet all of a sudden. It seems the Goblins have all gone to sleep for the night."

"Or perhaps they are feasting," said Galvia.

Garaloth shuddered. "I would be honored to assume the first period of guard duty. I'm wide awake, you see--still fired up from that magnificent Crimson Feast. I still cannot believe the Divine Essence actually spoke through me!" He shook his head in amazement. "I will always consider that my greatest honor as a Knight, no matter what happens in the years to come."

Galvia smiled. "Of course. And that's why you will be second in command here, Garaloth. The Divine Essence must have chosen you for a reason. That will probably earn you a promotion from the Council."

Garaloth bowed twice, his expression eager. "I can only hope."

"About the guard duty," said Galvia. " I want three warriors on watch all night--at three different points around the camp. Our enemies might choose to attack us while our numbers are diminished and Prince Vannas and Lannon are away."

Garaloth glanced about, a flicker of fear in his eyes. "Ah, I didn't think of that. I figured we would be safe here, while the others would be the ones in peril. But you're definitely right about that."

Taith rose, his eyes wide. "We're going to be attacked?"

Galvia realized her mistake in speaking freely in front of the boy. "It's a possibility, Taith, and nothing more. But rest assured we will do everything possible to protect you. We have many stout Knights on hand."

Garaloth winked at the boy. "Fear nothing, Taith, for the Divine Essence will protect us. I shall play a song for you on my flute. If Galvia will allow it."

Galvia nodded. "For Taith, then."

Garaloth played a soft and gentle tune--a haunting melody that made Taith close his eyes and appear to drift off to sleep. The music merged with the crackling of the fire, and a peaceful feeling settled over the camp, promising that it would be a night of warmth, safety, and pleasant dreams in spite of their grim surroundings.

Galvia sat down with her back to a tree, her war hammer lying next to her. She closed her eyes, letting the music relax her toward sleep. She thought of Jerret--already missing her best friend. Time seemed to slow until it became meaningless, drifting away like the notes in the air, until all that remained was the timeless music that existed beyond mortal pain and fear. Convinced that nothing would harm them, she said a prayer of thanks to the Divine Essence for blessing her with Knighthood and then let herself drift into a peaceful slumber.

She fell asleep convinced all would be well.

Yet when Galvia awoke sometime later, when the fire had died down to coals and Taith and Garaloth were sound asleep, she realized it was all an illusion. There was no peace or safety to be found in the Soddurn Mountains. This was a place of terror and death, and something ugly was bound to happen here. Yet the attack did not come from the creatures of the peaks--but from Bellis.

The Lawkeeper and his warriors had entered the camp with their weapons drawn--intent on bloodshed. Their faces were twisted with malice, and they never spoke a word as they charged in for the kill.

"Flee, Taith!" Galvia cried, to the sleeping lad--causing him to snap awake. She rose, war hammer in hand--dread gripping her heart.

This was a fight to the death.

***

As the Council of Ollanhar moved higher into the mountains, the weather turned foul. It started slowly, with the wind picking up and thunder rumbling--the great pines swaying and creaking around them. Lightning flashed in the peaks, and then the rain began. It started as a drizzle and soon became a raging downpour beneath the pitch-black sky, sweeping over the riders in sheets.

The Knights used a pair of Birlote torches to guide them. The glowing gems fastened to silver rods were impervious to the rain, casting a crimson glow around the party. The storm seemed sinister--a deliberate attempt by the Deep Shadow to slow their progress. But the warriors would not be slowed, for they were desperate to rescue the prince and the White Flamestone. The fate of Dremlock Kingdom, Ollanhar Tower, and perhaps all the land depended upon this mission.

Lannon hunkered down beneath his hooded cloak, the water rolling off the Birlote silk. Like everyone else, he was concerned about the lightning--knowing that a bolt could strike without warning and kill both rider and horse. Lannon was able to shield himself with his sorcery, but sustaining such a shield was tiresome and he had no idea if it could stop a lightning bolt completely. Even the Bearer of the Eye was not necessarily safe from the wrath of the storm.

As he guided his horse over the gnarled roots of a huge pine, Lannon paused to gaze at the tree, which was ugly and twisted--with big knobs protruding from the bark that looked vaguely like demonic faces. As the lightning flashed, the face-like bulbs were revealed, leering down at Lannon and sending chills along his spine. The Eye of Divinity showed that the tree was infested with the Deep Shadow and filled with hatred toward the riders, craving their doom. The roots trembled beneath the hoofs of Lannon's horse, recoiling at the animal's touch.

Then another lightning flash revealed two figures standing by a boulder near the tree--handsome men with pale skin and jaws that hung open to an unnatural degree to reveal long, curved fangs. Like the ancient pine, these creatures despised humans and delighted in their destruction.

Lannon cried a warning, as the Ghouls leapt in for the kill.

One of the creatures went for Dallsa, seizing her leg and trying to pull her off her horse. The healer cried out in disgust and smashed the Ghoul in the head with her steel mace, but the weapon deflected off the skull as if it had struck stone. The Ghoul ripped the mace from Dallsa's hand and flung it aside.

Lannon leapt from his saddle high into the air--right over Dallsa and the Ghoul--and landed behind the creature, sword in hand. He plunged the weapon into the Ghoul's back. The Ghoul hissed in displeasure and released Dallsa. Lannon withdrew his blade, focused his energy, and tried to behead the creature. But the Ghoul ducked the stroke and tackled Lannon, bearing him to the ground.

Meanwhile, the other Ghoul had gone for Jerret, knocking him from his horse and ending up on top of the Red Knight, choking him. Aldreya hurled a fireball at it and missed, the burning orb exploding against the huge pine and making the tree shudder. The Ghoul sought to crush Jerret's throat as it grinned, drool dripping from its gleaming fangs.

With a grunt, Jerret shoved the creature off and rose, flaming broadsword in hand. As the Ghoul leapt toward him again, reaching for him with fingers bent like claws, Jerret cut off its arm. The Ghoul seized Jerret's sword with its remaining hand, but the flames that engulfed the weapon were burning so hot that it screeched in agony and let go.

With a sneer and a brutal swing, Jerret beheaded his foe.

Lannon froze his adversary and shoved the Ghoul away--sending it hurtling into a tree with a cracking of bone and wood. An instant later an arrow from Lothrin's bow lodged in the creature's forehead. But the Ghoul tore the arrow away and started forward again.

Lannon rose, a cloaked shadow in the raging storm, and as the Ghoul staggered toward him in a daze, its fingers reaching for his neck, he darted forward as swift as the wind and cut off its head.

But two more Ghouls had leapt from behind boulders and entered the fray--one of them charging at Aldreya and the other pulling Jace from his horse.

The Ghoul that attacked Aldreya didn't fare too well, as she calmly hurled a green fireball from her stone dagger and struck it in the face. The Ghoul's head exploded into glowing fragments that landed like stones pelting the earth and trees. The headless body took a couple of steps and then toppled over.

Jace rolled around on the ground, trying to dislodge his Ghoul before it could find his throat with its fangs. Jerret and Lannon rushed over to assist him, but they couldn't get a clear swing at the creature. At last Jace managed to shove it away, and the sorcerer rose, hands raised for battle.

But before the Ghoul could charge Jace, Lannon and Jerret both impaled it with their swords from behind, driving it to its knees. Then Jace leapt in for the kill, slamming his fist down on the creature's forehead--a shattering blow that left the Ghoul instantly limp in death, the dark sorcery that animated it fleeing from the body like a foul mist.

Jace motioned to Lannon. "Cut off its head so it cannot live again." He spoke loudly to be heard over the storm--almost yelling.

Lannon did as Jace wished.

The sorcerer groaned, rubbing his shoulder. "Very powerful foes--and I fear just a small sample of what is to come. What a wretched place this is!" The rain quickly washed the dirt and pine needles from his hair and cloak.

They climbed back onto their horses.

Daledus frowned. "Well that happened rather quickly. I didn't even get a chance to join in." His axe was still strapped to his back.

Dallsa shuddered, glancing fearfully toward the trees and boulders. "How many of these things are lurking about?"

"Who knows?" Aldreya replied. "The mountains could be crawling with them. They remind me of the Stonemen of Old Hill Forest."

"They are very much like the Stonemen," Lannon agreed, remembering his encounter with the zombies that had pursued him so relentlessly.

"Such horrible monsters," said Dallsa. "It sickens me what was done to Bekka--the pain and loss that she is enduring because of a single bite. I could sense her feelings--that her very soul was devoured and she is now empty. It is just a bitter illusion, but she doesn't yet know that. I wish they were all dead."

"You may get your wish," said Jerret. "We may have to kill all of them to regain possession of the White Flamestone."

"Yet it wasn't a Ghoul that took Prince Vannas," said Lannon. "It was something much more powerful--perhaps whatever spawned these Ghouls. I'm guessing a Barloak Demon, like the one I encountered in Old Hill Forest. If that's the case, we will have a rough time of it. I'm not sure we can win."

"Without the Flamestone," said Aldreya, "it won't be easy. But what choice do we have?" She looked doubtful. "Yes, we must continue on."

"And what of my cousin?" said Lothrin, pain in his eyes. "He must surely be dead by now. There would be no reason for our enemies to keep him alive. Surely they would view him as a threat and eliminate him quickly."

"Don't underestimate the White Flamestone," said Jace. "Vannas has grown more powerful and will not be easy to kill--not even for a Barloak Demon. That gives us a slim hope that we can save him."

"I don't understand," said Lothrin. "He is still a flesh-and-blood mortal. If he was ambushed, how could the Flamestone protect him?"

"Sorcerers are difficult to kill," said Jace. "Our bodies change over time from the magic we wield. We toughen up a bit."

"My cousin is not a sorcerer," said Lothrin.

"I beg to differ," said Jace. "A sorcerer is one who uses sorcery on a frequent basis. I believe our good prince fits that definition."

They fell silent, the effort too great of having to yell their words to be heard above the storm. Lightning split the air close to them, striking a towering pine and catching it on fire. The pine blazed like a torch, burning branches falling to the ground. The riders halted, uncertain if they should attempt to continue on.

But at last Aldreya motioned them forward.

Lannon lost sight of Prince Vannas' trail. It simply vanished--along with that of whatever creature of Tharnin had been accompanying him. Lannon paused, scouring the terrain in an effort to locate it again, as the others waited with bowed heads in the lashing rain. Finally Lannon gave up.

"It just ends," he said, his voice filled with frustration. "I don't understand it. It's like the two of them just vanished from existence."

"Perhaps sorcery was used to cover the trail," said Jace. "Perhaps the Eye is confused. Do you sense anything unusual?"

Lannon shook his head. "If sorcery is confusing my sight, it's so clever that I can't even glimpse it. I must truly be blinded by it."

"We will continue on," said Aldreya, "and see if you can pick up the trail again. It could just be a temporary issue."

They went a bit further and then Lothrin called out to the others in a frantic tone. "Prince Vannas is nearby!" he yelled, pointing toward a rocky wall that was just barely visible through the trees. "I caught a glimpse of him running in that direction. Hurry, we must catch him before he escapes!"

"Are you sure it was him?" asked Aldreya, looking skeptical.

"I glimpsed his cloak," said Lothrin.

"Why would the prince run from us?" said Vorden. "This could be a trick of the Deep Shadow to slow us--or lure us into a trap."

"I agree," said Aldreya. "Our enemy is clever."

Lannon scanned the ground where Lothrin had pointed. "I sense the presence of evil sorcery, but it's not whatever I sensed before. This is weaker--possibly one of those Ghouls. But there are no traces of the prince."

"It was definitely my cousin's cloak," said Lothrin, "though I couldn't tell if it was him wearing it. But even if it wasn't him, maybe he is being held prisoner somewhere nearby. We must find him!"

Lannon led the way, following the trail of dark sorcery that wound between the pines and boulders. Soon they came to a cave in the mountainside. The cave mouth looked hungry, waiting to devour anyone who dared enter. It was a natural cavern, but one that was choked with the Deep Shadow and made almost alive from it. Even the stone walls hated these Knights and wanted them dead. Lannon was unable to see very far into the tunnel, but he could sense whispered warnings of doom from the darkness, demanding the Knights turn back.

Lightning struck in the cliffs overhead--so bright that for an instant it was like daylight. The swaying pines cracked from the roaring wind.

"The trail leads into this ugly cave," Lannon called out. "If the prince is in there somewhere, I cannot glimpse him."

"This could indeed be a trap," said Jace. "Probably is. On the other hand, this is the best lead we have right now. I suppose...we should take our chances in there." He gazed at the cave doubtfully.

They dismounted, unable to take their horses into the narrow entrance. With their Birlote torches to guide them, they entered the cave. They were glad to be sheltered from the raging storm--even if it had to be in a smelly, evil tunnel that seemed to close in around them menacingly. The sounds of the storm faded as they made their way along the tunnel. They moved slowly, watching for danger.

Lothrin motioned for them to pick up the pace. He held one of the two Birlote torches and was in the lead. "We must hurry!"

"No," said Aldreya, seizing his tunic. "If we go too fast, we will certainly end up blundering into a trap. You must calm yourself."

Lothrin pulled away from her. "But they're going to kill him!"

"Hand over your torch," Aldreya commanded.

But Lothrin ignored her and raced off through the cave. They heard him splash into water ahead. "I've found a cold, shallow lake," he called back. "There is solid rock beneath it. The cave is aglow with strange lights."

The tunnel opened into a wide cavern where the lake sat. The Knights entered the icy water, which came up to their knees. Green crystals glowed in the walls and ceiling, giving them a glimpse of how large the cavern was. It was at least three-hundred feet wide with the ceiling looming about twenty feet above them. A strange smell hung in the air that almost reminded them of salt water mixed with some ancient spice. It was an unpleasant smell that brought to mind things cold and fishy. The air in the chamber was clammy and seemed to cling to their skin. The Deep Shadow emanated strongly from the lake--an invisible fog that engulfed the Knights and whispered of hopelessness and despair.

Lannon avoided gazing at the unpleasant water and instead found himself mesmerized by the green crystals in the walls and ceiling. He studied them carefully with the Eye and discovered they held traces of energy similar to that which infested living things. The crystals were alive, but unlike any life form Lannon had ever encountered. They were shelled organisms that lived their lives mostly fixed in one spot like plants, yet they seemed more like animals.

As the warriors neared the middle of the lake, where Lothrin was waiting for them, Lannon forced himself to scan the dark water. He glimpsed traces of evil and suffering from centuries past that made him feel sick to his stomach and want to look away, but he resisted and kept searching. His vigilance paid off, as a sunken stone walkway was revealed that led across the lake. They were standing on the walkway--which had dropped beneath the dark surface due to crumbling pillars beneath it--with much deeper water on either side. In that deep water Lannon glimpsed piles of human bones--some ancient and covered in slime. Grinning skulls lay everywhere down there. Coiled up amongst the bones were several Pit Crawlers. It was a shocking sight, these dark, coiled serpents lying as still as statues in the deep.

Lannon motioned for everyone to halt. "We have a bit of an issue here," he whispered, pointing at the water. He revealed what he had seen.

"Ugh!" Dallsa whispered. She pressed close to Lannon.

"They probably aren't aware of us yet," said Aldreya. "They could even be sleeping. If we move very slowly, we might avoid a fight."

With grim faces, the Knights crept forward through the water. They had no wish to confront a group of Pit Crawlers--beasts that could cause instant death with a single bite. Many Knights throughout the ages had fallen victims to these stealthy Goblins that hid in quiet, dark places waiting to ambush their prey.

They made it a bit farther and then Dallsa let out a scream and fell over, splashing about. "Something brushed my leg!" she cried.

"It was just an eel," said Lannon, who had glimpsed the creature as it swam by. He pulled Dallsa to her feet, a feeling of dread gripping him.

An instant later the water exploded as six huge Pit Crawlers rose up, their jaws open wide and dripping venom. They swayed back and forth, as thick as tree trunks, their faces those of leering human females.

***

Taith made every effort to flee the camp. He ran for all he was worth, as the Knights formed a wall of protection in front of him. One of Bellis' warriors--grinning at the sight of the fleeing boy--shot an arrow at Taith's back, but Wreld Greendagger, the stocky Red Knight who was third in command at the camp, deflected it with his burning broadsword.

Taith made it beyond the circle of tents--but there he found another soldier with a crossbow waiting for him. As the battle raged in the camp, the soldier approached the boy with a grim expression. He aimed the crossbow at Taith's chest, squinting, his finger tightening on the trigger.

"Don't shoot!" Taith cried, raising his hands.

"Lay down on your belly," the soldier ordered gruffly. "You are now a prisoner of Bellis Kingdom. If you get up, I'll put an arrow in you."

Taith did as commanded, trembling as he lay on the ground.

Galvia saw that Taith had been captured, and disgust washed over her. She deflected an arrow with her smoldering hammer, and then drove the weapon through the armor of one of Bellis' Knights, melting through the steel, flesh, and bone that lay beneath--killing her foe instantly.

One of the Thallite Giants, looking like a god in his gleaming crimson armor, seized a Blue Knight and lifted him high into the air, then slammed him against a pine tree so viciously that the tree cracked. The giant hurled the Knight's broken body aside, bellowing laughter.

Galvia found herself face to face with a Guardian. The Golden Knight seemingly had no weakness--his armor covering him from head to toe and his helm secured by latches. Galvia struck a stout blow to his chest, but her hammer was turned aside by the mighty armor. Instead of retaliating against her, the Guardian whirled around and impaled a Red Knight that was charging him. He lifted the Red Knight into the air with his sword and then hurled him several yards.

Galvia struck the Guardian again when his back was turned--and again her smoldering hammer could not crush the armor. She managed to knock over the Golden Knight with the sheer ferocity of the blow, but he leapt up almost instantly, spinning to confront her. Her heart sank, as she realized that her chosen weapon was useless against these elite swordsmen.

One of the Thallite Giants pinned a fallen Blue Knight beneath his boot and was crushing him, and he roared with laughter as the warrior cried out in agony. Done toying with his foe, the giant stomped him to death.

A Blue Knight leapt on a Guardian's back and tried to unlatch his helm. She managed to open one of the latches, and then a crossbow bolt lodged in her back and exploded, killing her instantly. The Guardian tossed the dead Knight aside and then calmly re-fastened the latch.

Several of Bellis' warriors went down--killed by the deadly accuracy of the Blue Knights and their curved Flayers. But this was a battle not destined to go well for Dremlock's warriors, due to the presence of the Thallites and the Guardians. The Divine Knights fought valiantly--wounding one of the giants to the point where he could not fight on--but one by one Dremlock's fighters were dispatched, until only Galvia, Wreld, and Garaloth remained.

Wreld and Garaloth had sustained several wounds, with Wreld unable to continue fighting. The onslaught had occurred so quickly that Galvia hadn't had time to even consider surrender, but she did so now, throwing down her hammer and raising her hands in a gesture of peace. If it had only been her, she would have fought on, but she wanted to save the lives of the two remaining Knights.

Bellis' warriors surrounded them, hooting and laughing in triumph--even as the storm reached them and the rain came. Taith was brought to them, his face pale with fear, and shoved into the mud.

The Lawkeeper rode into camp, his cold gaze passing over the dead Knights. He dismounted and strode up to the captives.

"Prisoners of Bellis," he said gazing down at them. "You will be punished for your crimes. And your punishment will be harsh."

"You're a fool!" Galvia snarled, her heart filled with pain and rage. "What have you done? You violated our agreement and have started a war!"

"War was inevitable," said the Lawkeeper, as rain soaked his silver hair and dripped from his weathered, cruel face. "I gave you a stern warning at Ollanhar and it was rejected." He motioned to the dead Knights that lay scattered about. "This is the result. Your precious warriors slain needlessly."

"Let the boy go," said Galvia. "He isn't a Knight and has no part in this."

"Everyone must be held accountable," said the Lawkeeper. He glared down at Taith. "Even sorry little rats like this one."

Moments later, a Birlote woman on horseback entered the camp. In one hand she held a glowing staff of blue crystal that bathed the area in a cold light. She wore a black robe adorned with blue symbols of evil sorcery, and her silver hair was set high with black ribbons. Her beautiful face was painted white in honor of Tharnin. It was Ethella, a priestess of Tharnin who was widely feared and hated.

"Only four of them left?" mused Ethella, swinging down from her horse. "And one is a mere Squire by the look of him."

"He's not a Squire," said Galvia. "Just a boy with no home."

"He has a home now," said Ethella. She smiled, her face a beautiful mask of evil. "And in this home, we have strict rules. Here, we tell the truth and share all we know--or the torture rack is brought forth."

"We must hurry," said the Lawkeeper. "There is no telling when the others will return."

"Coward!" Wreld muttered. "You fear Lannon and Prince Vannas, and make war on us when they are away."

The Lawkeeper shrugged. "War is all about strategy, young man. And you have fallen victim to exactly that."

"We could just execute them right now," said Ethella, pointing her glowing blue staff at Galvia. "Just burn out their hearts."

Galvia glared at her defiantly.

"The dead Knights must be burned," said the Lawkeeper, to hide the evidence of our attack. "Can you do it in spite of the rain?"

"I can," said Ethella. "My fire will consume all. We will take their armor and weapons, of course--as well as their horses. We should leave the wagons and tents, however. We don't want to deprive them of the provisions that they will need for their journey."

"Why did you do this?" asked Galvia. "If all you wanted was the Green Flamestone, and you intended to let us retrieve it for you--then why did you attack us? It makes no sense."

"Oh, but it does," said the Lawkeeper, tapping his head. "You're just too stupid to see it. When the time comes, we don't want to have to fight an army of Divine Knights. So we cut down your numbers a bit."

"Yet our whole mission may be doomed," said Galvia. "If Prince Vannas is dead, Aldreya may opt to return to Ollanhar--especially now that you've slain most of her Knights. Your attack was stupid and pointless."

The Lawkeeper and Ethella exchanged a glance. Then the Lawkeeper smiled. "Killing Divine Knights is never pointless. And rest assured the mission for the Green Flamestone will continue, with or without Vannas. There is a dreaded Dark Watchman amongst you, is there not? Lannon Sunshield will not give up until the Flamestone is in his possession. And then we will ambush him and kill him, and the stone will belong to King Verlamer."

"I'll kill Lannon myself," said Ethella, winking at Galvia. "My poison dagger will slide into his back when he least expects it."

"You will fail," said Galvia, "and Lannon will finish you."

The Lawkeeper shrugged. "Either way, you won't be around to see it. You're going to die on this night, Dwarf. It could be a quick death...or a slow one. It depends on how much information you're willing to share with us."

"I'll share nothing," said Galvia.

Ethella's face hardened, her smile vanishing. "We shall see."

One of Bellis' warriors--a heavily muscled Knight with a bushy beard--approached them, carrying Bekka Nightspear's unconscious form. Though Bekka was tall and muscular, he carried her as if she were weightless. He dumped her in the mud, where she lay groaning. "I found her in the back of a wagon. She seems ill, writhing about and such. Could be a fever."

Ethella knelt and touched her. "She has been poisoned by the Deep Shadow--perhaps beyond hope. Excellent. Take her from the camp and leave her under a tree. Let Tharnin do its work, that she may come to serve."

The warrior looked disgusted. "Why not just kill her and be done with it? She seems to be suffering and should be put out of her misery. And the other Knights will return and try to heal her. One less foe to worry about, right?"

Ethella's face darkened. "We do not kill those who have the potential to serve. If any harm befalls her, you will deal with me."

"Do as she says," the Lawkeeper commanded.

With a sigh, the warrior lifted Bekka and carried her away.

"Let us dispose of the bodies quickly," said the Lawkeeper. "And then we will probe the prisoners for information."

"Lannon will know what happened," said Galvia. "You cannot hide the truth from the Eye of Divinity."

Lightning flashed nearby, and the trees swayed around them.

"Yes, we must hurry," said Ethella, gazing at the sky.

Soon a large tent roof was erected on six poles, and the prisoners were put in shackles beneath it. Galvia was certain she could escape the shackles, but an escape attempt would only earn her a quick death and might put the others at risk. She felt she owed it to the others--especially to young Taith--to keep herself alive long enough to find a way out of the situation.

Nearby, the bonfire surged to life again in spite of the wind-blown sheets of rain that swept the campsite. Fueled by the fires of Ethella's sorcery, the blue flames could be not be smothered out. The dead Knights were dumped atop the blaze, where the flames engulfed them eagerly, flickering like serpent tongues. The fire burned so hot that large blue and white sparks burst out and danced across the muddy ground, hissing as they came in contact with the water.

Galvia groaned in despair, as the bodies of her fellow Knights were burned away. Their names ran through her mind--Caldan Stonehammer, Tessa Silverbow, Kellen Ironback, and others she knew well. Young Knights with promising futures, now gone from the world with only ashes to mark their passing.

The Lawkeeper smiled down at her. "They had it easy, you know. For you, death could come much more slowly."

Garaloth gazed at Galvia. "How could this happen? On a night when..."

"When what?" asked the Lawkeeper, leaning close to the Red Knight.

"Be silent, Garaloth," said Galvia.

The Lawkeeper nodded. "You're hiding something important. I can feel it in my bones. But you will reveal the truth soon enough."

Rain poured from the tent roof, coming down in rivers on all sides. Some of it was blown in by the wind, blasting the Lawkeeper and his prisoners periodically. The tent roof swayed in the wind, the poles seemingly ready to snap. For the four prisoners, life had turned sour amidst the raging storm. They could only hope that Lannon and the others returned in time to save them, but it seemed unlikely. The warriors of Bellis were determined to deal with the situation quickly and then move on, leaving only the dead behind.

***

Before the Pit Crawlers could strike, Lannon beheaded one of them. His stroke was so swift that it appeared the beast's head simply fell off. The headless body writhed about and then dropped to the water with a splash. The head floated toward Lannon, the jaws still moving, and he seized it and tossed it away.

The other Pit Crawlers hissed and struck furiously at the Knights. Their mouths stretched open wide to expose their fangs, their humanoid faces gone crimson with rage and their yellow eyes reflecting pure evil. Their dark, scaly bodies rippled with muscles that were eager to crush the life from their foes.

One of them struck at Jace, and the sorcerer smashed his fist down on its head, causing the beast to go berserk and lash from side to side. It crashed into its fellow Pit Crawlers and caused Lothrin and Dallsa to have to duck. Finally the crazed serpent swam away frantically, twisting from side to side as it shot across the water. It went straight into the cavern wall with a thud. Then it lay still.

Another Pit Crawler bit at Aldreya--its teeth clamping down on her shoulder. The other Knights groaned in despair, thinking she would be fatally poisoned. But Aldreya twisted away from the beast unharmed, her sorcery having shielded her flesh from the venomous fangs, and she hurled a fireball into the Pit Crawler's face. The beast erupted into green flames. It thrashed about in pain and rage, went under the water (which did not smother the flames) and finally swam away to its doom.

Jerret smashed aside a striking Pit Crawler with his broadsword, then swung at it and missed as the beast reared back. It struck at him again, and again he knocked its head aside, the stout muscles of his arms delivering a crushing blow. But the Pit Crawler wasn't finished--striking at him a third time even though it was bleeding from its mouth. This time Jerret beheaded the beast.

Vorden blocked a serpent strike with his spiked shield, and then smashed the shield against the beast's head, tearing through the skull. Vorden seemed to fight carelessly, heedless of the danger around him--focusing only on that lone attacker. He motioned the Pit Crawler toward him and mocked the creature, as if he wanted to toy with it. Daledus, however, leapt to Vorden's aid and finished off the beast with a single stroke of his huge battle axe.

"Hey, that one was mine," said Vorden, glaring at the Dwarf.

Another Pit Crawler moved toward Vorden from behind. Lothrin cried a warning and hurled his Flayer, impaling the beast, but the wound didn't stop it and it bit the back of Vorden's head. Vorden whirled around and caught the beast with his spikes, ripping half of its head into ruin. The Pit Crawler collapsed in death.

Vorden staggered about and then fell into the water, clutching the back of his head. Lannon pulled him to his feet, but Vorden was unable to stand. His eyes were rolled back in his head. Hanging onto his friend with one arm, Lannon beheaded yet another Pit Crawler that was lunging at them.

Soon all of those Pit Crawlers lay dead--but nearby, the surface of the water churned as a slew of baby Pit Crawlers swam about and moved off through the cavern. The others looked on in disgust, but they had no time to track down these young Goblins and put an end to them.

They formed a circle around Vorden, wondering if he was finished. Yet the Red Knight was still breathing in a labored fashion.

Dallsa lay hands on Vorden to administer healing--and then pulled back, a shocked look on her face.

"What's wrong?" Lannon asked.

"It's his aura," she said. "I can feel the Deep Shadow inside him--so incredibly strong. How is it that he can resist it?"

"You must try," said Lannon.

With a reluctant nod, Dallsa laid hands on him again. "I can feel the venom in his blood, seeking his heart. But it's not killing him. He is...simply too infested with Tharnin. The venom is failing."

Lannon breathed a sigh of relief. "So he's going to survive."

Moments later, Vorden's eyes fluttered into focus. "Curse it all," he mumbled. "One of them got me. Why weren't you watching my back, Lannon?"

"Sorry," said Lannon. "How do you feel?"

"It was a very shallow bite," said Dallsa, checking the injury. "Fortunately, only a tiny bit of venom found its way in."

"It still took me out of the fight," said Vorden. "And I feel horribly sick and weak right now. I'm afraid I won't be much good in combat for a while."

"You fought carelessly, Vorden," said Aldreya. "Why?"

Vorden shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I feel like I'm invincible...like the ugly power inside me will always preserve my life. Yet I know I can die. A stronger bite perhaps would have finished me. It's strange...the way I am."

"Maybe you want to die," said Jace, "to escape what you are. I've seen that sort of thing many times over the centuries. You might not even be aware that you are trying to kill yourself."

Vorden bowed his head in thought. "I don't know. You could be right, Jace. Maybe I'm hoping death will bring me peace."

Lannon found Vorden's statement very disturbing. "You need to do everything you can to stay alive, my friend. We all need you. This world needs you. You're one of the best fighters Dremlock has."

"I know," said Vorden, but he still looked doubtful.

"Don't waste your great gift of life," said Jace. He winked at Vorden. "Life is rare indeed. Especially intelligent life. You weren't meant to squander it foolishly. Ride the river until the end, wherever it takes you. It's the only way."

Vorden rolled his eyes. "I don't need a lecture in philosophy."

"Vorden, your attitude is putting us all at risk," said Aldreya. "You need to pay attention to what's going on around you. That wound should never have occurred. We can't always be concerned with watching your back."

"Then don't," said Vorden, his face darkening. "I can look after myself, and I don't need anyone to--" He went into a coughing fit and fell to his knees.

Lannon helped him up again.

"Let us continue on," said Lothrin, as he yanked his Flayer free of the dead Pit Crawler. He started off without waiting for a reply. The others followed, though Vorden slowed them considerably.

When Lothrin reached the other side of the lake, he cried out in rage. "I have found the one who stole Prince Vannas' cloak! Stay back and let me deal with him myself!"

The others ignored the Ranger's command--with Lannon darting ahead until he stood beside Lothrin.

Crouched in a stone tunnel beyond the lake was a Ghoul that wore the prince's silk cloak. The Ghoul was trapped--as the tunnel reached a dead end behind it. It had done its work in leading them to the Pit Crawlers, but its clever snare had failed. Not a single Knight had perished.

Lothrin pointed his Flayer at the Ghoul. "What have you done with my cousin? Tell me, and I might let you escape!"

The Ghoul hissed words in return--words that sounded like "Prince Vannas is dead. I devoured him."

Enraged, Lothrin strode over to the Ghoul. The creature tried to seize Lothrin's Flayer, but the Ranger was too fast--shoving the creature to its knees. "Last chance!" Lothrin warned, raising his burning blade. "Where is Prince Vannas and the White Flamestone?"

The Ghoul went for Lothrin's throat--only to be met by the burning Flayer that claimed its head. Lothrin stood over his fallen foe, chest heaving, his eyes still filled with rage. "The fool should have talked!"

"Calm yourself," said Aldreya. "The battle is over."

Lannon was impressed with how easily Lothrin had dispatched the Ghoul. It seemed the Ranger had slain the powerful creature as if it were any common Goblin. Lannon wondered why Lothrin was so swift and skilled compared to other Knights and if it had something to do with his lineage and the strange birthmark on his face. Or did all Birlote Rangers possess such abilities?

Lothrin sheathed his blade, gazing down at the dead creature. "What if it was telling the truth? What if it did devour the prince?"

"I believe it was lying," said Lannon--though he wasn't completely certain. Creatures of the Deep Shadow were skilled liars, and even the Eye of Divinity sometimes had trouble seeing through them.

Lothrin removed Vannas' cloak and checked it for bloodstains. "The cloak is in excellent shape," he said. "That's a good sign."

Lannon scanned the tunnel and found a hidden iron door in the stone wall, concealed by a powerful illusion. He grabbed a handle and pulled open the door, as the others looked on in amazement.

"Where did that come from?" asked Jerret, rubbing his eyes. "You were pulling on empty air, and then...there it was."

"I broke the illusion for you," said Lannon. He pointed to some runes engraved in the cave wall. "That's what generates the illusion, as long as the door stays shut. As soon it comes open, the illusion apparently stops working."

Aldreya studied the runes carefully. "Very interesting. We're dealing with extremely powerful sorcery that even Divine Knights cannot easily see through. It even fooled me. Obviously, this door leads somewhere important."

"So let's see what's beyond it," said Vorden. He took a few steps toward it and then collapsed, still terribly weakened by the venom.

Sighing, Lannon lifted him over his shoulder.

Dallsa checked Vorden again and nodded. "He's merely unconscious. It will be good for him to sleep for a while."

"But not so good for me," said Lannon. "He weighs a ton in that armor."

Beyond the iron door, they found stone stairs leading upward in a spiral. They climbed up about thirty feet--their wet boots making squishy noises--and found themselves in a narrow tower with torch holders in the walls around them. The walls seemed to press in on them as they continued upward.

Lannon scanned his surroundings and glimpsed echoes of warfare. This tower had once been part of a larger fortress that had suffered great damage and had crumbled away. Countless battles had been fought here, until the blood and bitter memories had seeped into the stone blocks. Centuries upon centuries of brutal conflict had left the tower twisted and ugly and corrupted by the Deep Shadow. This narrow keep held an aura of misery and death--of human life being cheapened by greed and lust for power. The Divine Knights were crammed into a stuffy, bleak space that desperate soldiers had once occupied.

Lannon revealed what he saw.

"These mountains were torn apart by war," said Jace. "Many castles once stood here, occupied by Olrog lords who served Tharnin. The Grey Dwarves fought against the Birlotes and Noracks in these peaks--and against each other. Now the Dwarves are gone from here and only ruins remain of their once proud fortresses. But as always the Deep Shadow lingers on, tainting everything with evil."

At the top of the tower they found windows looking out upon the mountainside. The storm was still raging, and windswept rain blew in on them. Lightning flashed close to the tower, blinding them temporarily.

Gazing through the window, Lannon caught a glimpse of another tower rising up from the mountainside and revealed in a lightning flash--far to the west beyond forests and cliffs. The Eye of Divinity locked onto the distant tower, and a feeling of dread gripped Lannon. He sensed massive power radiating from it.

"I glimpsed another fortress," he said. "I sense great evil there."

"Could be where we need to go," said Jace, leaning wearily against the tower wall. "I think it is Wallrock itself, if I remember right. The direction seems correct, anyway. If so, that is very unfortunate. That is a heavily guarded keep, ruled by something very ancient and powerful."

"A Barloak Demon," said Lannon, with certainty.

Jace nodded. "And probably an Elder Demon at that. A creature that survived the wrath of the Crimson Flamestone and lives defiantly in our world. Such incredible boldness and arrogance."

"This creature," said Aldreya, "whatever it may be, could be responsible for much of the evil that plagues Silverland. We knew there were other forces at work against us besides Tenneth Bard, Bellis, and the Blood Legion. We suspected there was a true Goblin Master spawning some of our greatest foes. At least, that's what Taris told me a few weeks ago. If the Lord of Wallrock is indeed this Goblin Master, then slaying it would be a great victory for Dremlock."

"It has been attempted before," said Jace. "More than once. Yet not a single Divine Knight has ever returned from there. If it wasn't Prince Vannas and the White Flamestone at stake, I would strongly suggest we avoid going there. I shudder to think of the horrors that await us in that keep. I ventured there once, long ago, and was lucky to escape with my life. The things I saw...I will never forget."

"What did you see?" asked Lannon. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to know, but he was compelled to ask anyway.

But Jace only shook his head. "I would rather not say. And it was long ago. Who knows what lurks there now? Regardless, we must go and face what must be faced. The White Flamestone must be recovered."

"I can lead the way," said Lannon. "The Eye will guide us."

They left the guard tower and went back down to the lake cavern. Vorden awoke and was able to walk again, though his steps were still quite slow. They made their way carefully across the water, anticipating more Pit Crawlers--but none rose from the deep. Their bodies were uncomfortable beneath their wet clothes. They could have dried themselves off with sorcery, but it would have been pointless considering they were headed back into the storm.

At last they emerged from the cave--to find their horses missing. The wind and rain had not let up in the slightest, as sheets of water blasted them unmercifully. The wind seemed to come from everywhere, changing direction constantly, negating any attempt to shelter themselves with tree or boulder.

Aldreya sighed. "Very clever. They managed to lure us away from our horses, and now we shall have to proceed on foot. I think that was their plan all along. They knew we would survive the Pit Crawlers and merely wanted to distract us so they could capture our horses. Our foes want us to grow weary."

Lannon scanned the ground and found no signs of a struggle. However, he did sense dark sorcery all about. "It looks like they were placed under some spell of Tharnin and simply led away."

"Led to Wallrock," said Jace, "where all things end up that are taken by the creatures of these mountains." He fixed his piercing gaze on Lannon. "Take us to the fortress, Dark Watchman. We look to you now for hope."

Lannon nodded. It was time to go to a place that even Divine Knights feared, where all of his skills would surely be tested to the extreme. Undoubtedly, the creatures of Wallrock had never dealt with a Dark Watchman before, and there was a chance they would underestimate Lannon. Yet he thought back to the mighty Barloak Demon he had encountered in Old Hill Forest, and he shuddered. If the beast at Wallrock was that powerful, Lannon and his friends might indeed join the long list of Knights who had vanished forever beyond those ancient walls.

### Chapter 13:

The Shield Master from Silvergate

Lort Greyshield stood on the path before the Sacred Temple, hesitating. He was apprehensive about his meeting with the High Council--to the point where it gnawed at his stomach--and he wondered what it was all about. Only once before had Lort been summoned to a meeting of Dremlock's elite Green Knights--and that had only been a brief affair at which he had been given an award for bravery in combat. This summoning was much different. They wanted Lort to attend from start to finish, and they had referred to the meeting as extremely important.

Lort walked quickly across the beautiful courtyard filled with flowers, trees, and sparkling fountains that surrounded the Sacred Temple, passing through the shadow of the huge statue of Kuran Darkender that stood atop the green copper roof. Birds chirped in the grass and in the small, colorful trees, as the sun's rays began to warm the land. It would have been a fine morning just for taking a stroll through the kingdom, but Lort barely noticed the magnificent sights around him--his focus locked onto the North Tower that rose up into the pink sky.

He paused to adjust his brown robe and smooth back what little grey hair he had left on the sides of his head. He had the stocky build of a typical Brown Knight who was used to wearing heavy armor and carrying a heavy shield. He was also somewhat socially awkward and dreaded meetings--especially important ones. He feared he would make a fool of himself before Dremlock's elite.

"Calm down, Lort," he mumbled to himself, as he approached the enormous tower. He didn't like the unsettled feeling in his stomach. He was expected to go before Taris Warhawk--the legendary sorcerer and Lord Knight of Dremlock. That was enough to cause any Knight's stomach to churn. Taris was the wisest of the wise, a sorcerer so powerful that, according to rumor, even Bellis Kingdom had been unable to take him prisoner (it was said that Taris simply walked between the bars of his cell). Taris had supposedly reached the level of the Birlote Wizards who were so rarely seen outside of the tree city of Borenthia. Lort had no idea how to act in the presence of such greatness.

He paused before the North Tower, gazing up at it in awe. It was much larger than the East and West towers, with six balconies encircling it. Six muscular Red Knights stood atop stone steps that led to a tall iron door. They gazed at Lort sullenly, waiting for him to state his business.

Lort cleared his throat. "I'm, um, here for a meeting with the High Council. They are expecting me. I think I'm a bit early."

The guards pulled the door open and waited.

Again Lort adjusted his robe and smoothed back the tufts of hair on the sides of his head. Then he strode into the tower.

He found himself standing in Dremlock Hall upon a rich silver carpet. Nearby stood five long tables adorned with candy dishes, jugs of expensive Birlote wine, and jars of fine tobacco bearing markings of Borenthia. Paintings of famous Knights lined the hall, gazing down at Lort with such sternness that he felt like they were challenging his character.

He hurried to the table where members of the High Council sat--Taris Warhawk, Trenton Shadowbane, and Shennen Silverarrow. These were three of the most intimidating men at Dremlock. Taris Warhawk was a lean Birlote dressed in a dark, hooded cloak. Half of his face was a mass of scars from a severe wound he had received from the demonic gauntlet known as the Hand of Tharnin. His silver hair was trimmed short, revealing his pointed ears. His eyes were piercing, gazing right through Lort and making him squirm. Trenton Shadowbane was the former Investigator and a powerful sorcerer who inspired many strange rumors. He was a slender elderly man with grey hair, a weathered face, and cold eyes that reminded Lort of a predatory wolf. And then there was Shennen Silverarrow, who was perhaps the most terrifying figure at Dremlock Kingdom--a master assassin who knew a thousand silent ways to kill. Shennen was a Birlote with unnaturally pale skin and a sullen, quiet demeanor. His silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail. He wore lightweight blue armor with a sheathed Flayer attached to his belt.

The three men waited for Lort to sit. With a trembling hand, he pulled his chair out and nearly tipped it over. "Sorry," he mumbled, as he seated himself.

"Would you like some tea?" asked Taris.

"Certainly," said Lort, and Taris pushed a teapot toward him.

Lort poured a cup, but spilled some of it on the table. He felt like an utter fool. "Sorry, I'm kind of clumsy today."

Shennen glanced at Taris, looking amused.

Taris allowed Lort to sip at his tea for a moment, then said, "I'm sure you're wondering why you've been summoned. We'll get to that in a moment. But first, we have a few things we need to discuss."

"I have something I want to discuss," said Trenton. "Has there been any word on Lannon Sunshield and Prince Vannas? Has a Hawk arrived?"

"No," said Taris. "I'm hoping we can take that as a good sign. By now they should be beyond the Soddurn Mountains and into new lands...unless, of course, they encountered trouble."

"Which they probably did," said Shennen. "As you know, I wasn't in favor of them taking that route--even with the White Flamestone to guide them. Too many dangers there. Too many highly skilled Knights have perished in those mountains--including Ulruk Spiritblade, one of the greatest Blue Knights in Dremlock's history who had survived many perilous missions."

"Exactly," said Trenton. His weathered face was twisted into a scowl of disapproval. "It was a foolish decision to send them there, Taris, and like Shennen, I believe they probably have found trouble."

Taris shrugged. "It was by far the quickest route to our goal, and time is vitally important. And this discussion is pointless. The decision was made and now we must deal with the consequences."

Lort had no idea what they were talking about, so he simply sat and listened without interrupting. This was some sort of official High Council business, and a topic probably not meant for his ears. Yet the Green Knights seemed unconcerned with his presence, even glancing at him as they spoke.

"What about Ollanhar?" asked Shennen. "How are things there?"

"The Nine Axes arrived late," said Taris, "of course. It seems they were distracted by some taverns along the way. But they are there now, and the tower is well defended. It is my opinion that Tenneth Bard will launch a fierce attack now that Lannon and Prince Vannas are gone on a mission. I'm not certain Furlus can hold the tower, and I feel we need to send more Knights."

"Send more Knights," Trenton mused. "That's always the answer to everything. Yet we have so few Knights to spare. How are we supposed to maintain possession of Ollanhar and expand to other fortresses when we lack the numbers to do so? Has recruiting improved at all lately?"

"Yes, slightly," said Taris.

"Slightly?" said Trenton, shaking his head. "Yet Bellis continues to make it terribly difficult for us to find new Squires. The fact that they still control the cities of Silvergate, Kalamede, and Gravendar has hurt us in so many ways. Trade has diminished to the point where we almost find ourselves in a state of emergency. King Verlamer has managed to isolate us and weaken us with masterful skill. Our resources are dwindling. Again, how are we expected to expand?"

"We require new resources, obviously," said Taris. "Chief amongst those new resources is the Green Flamestone. With that in our possession, we can risk war with Bellis and begin pushing back--starting in the aforementioned cities of Silverland. We will demand that trade and recruiting commence unrestricted."

"Green Flamestone?" Lort questioned, speaking before he could contain himself. He clamped his hand over his mouth, then lowered it and said, "Perhaps I wasn't supposed to ask about it."

"Feel free to speak, Lort," said Taris. "Consider yourself a part of this discussion. Otherwise, we would not have summoned you."

"Thank you, Master Taris," said Lort, bowing. "It is a great honor to be included." He hesitated, then said, "So, um, the Green Flamestone?"

Taris explained the full situation to Lort.

Lort felt a rush of excitement. "So we could end up with two Flamestones in our possession. Or three, if you count the black one."

"The Black Flamestone is useless to us," said Taris. "It is tainted by darkness and far too dangerous to be used by mortals. That one will be returned to the Divine Essence very soon. Still, two Flamestones would strike fear into Bellis Kingdom. It could potentially force King Verlamer to withdraw completely from Silverland. That would allow our expansion to proceed much more quickly."

"What can this Green Flamestone do?" asked Lort. "Where does it rank on the...well...the Flamestone power scale?" He cringed inwardly, thinking that statement had sounded terribly stupid.

Taris chuckled. "The Flamestone power scale? I think it goes something like this: the Purple Flamestone, which is our wonderful Divine Essence and the Mind of the White Guardian, the Crimson Flamestone, which is the Blood, the White Flamestone and the Black Flamestone, which form the two halves of the Heart, the Golden Flamestone, which is the Will, and the Green Flamestone, which is the body. Those are the six parts of the White Guardian."

"So the Green Flamestone is dead last on the list," said Trenton, with a wry smile. "Yet we base all our hopes on obtaining it."

"Yes," said Taris, "but it is still an extremely powerful weapon--and much easier to use than the white one according to recorded history."

"What about that Golden Flamestone?" asked Lort. "If that is found, could the White Guardian live again? Could our god be...put back together? If each Flamestone is alive, couldn't they become one being again?" He envisioned the White Guardian walking the land, and in his mind it was a pale giant--a god towering over all. A god who would once again bring peace and joy to Gallamerth.

"No one knows where the Golden Flamestone is," said Taris. "It may be lost forever in the sea, which would mean the White Guardian could never be reassembled. It would take all six Flamestones for our god to be whole again. Without the Will, our god still could not walk the land. And even if all six were found, it is doubtful the White Guardian could be made whole again. When it was shattered so long ago, it was gravely injured. The pieces will not necessarily merge together. The Birlote Wizards have concluded that our god can never heal."

"Yet we don't truly know," said Shennen. "Even the Divine Essence doesn't know for certain. The topic has been debated for centuries and was the focus of a grand quest once that failed miserably. But right now reassembling the White Guardian is not on our agenda. It is so unlikely it is not even worth considering. We simply need the Flamestones to use as weapons against Bellis."

"Can the Flamestones be destroyed?" asked Lort. "If so, perhaps that is what happened to the golden one."

"Anything is possible," said Taris. "But no one has ever managed to destroy or even damage a Flamestone. They seem to be indestructible. The Golden Flamestone is barely mentioned in recorded history. It was lost when the great rock fell from the heavens and shattered the White Guardian, and it has never been seen since--whereas all of the other ones have been lost and found time and again. This makes for a compelling case that it vanished beneath the sea."

"So aside from the white one," said Lort, "only the green one remains for us to use. As you said, the black one cannot be wielded by mortals, and the crimson one cannot be removed from its bed of straw."

Taris nodded. "It seems we are limited to two Flamestones, but that is enough to perhaps overcome even the colossal might of Bellis."

"But what if the mission fails?" asked Trenton. "Suppose things go badly and they have to turn back. What then? I have raised this question repeatedly and it still has not been answered to my satisfaction."

"If we fail to obtain the Green Flamestone," said Taris, "we have other options. Don't forget that we still have the white one, and there is no telling how powerful Prince Vannas could become. Also, we have a Dark Watchman amongst us for the first time in ages, and there could be more of them out there waiting to be discovered. We will simply have to keep searching."

"Lannon Sunshield is extraordinary," said Trenton. "The duel he won against King Verlamer will never be forgotten. But how important is he truly to Dremlock Kingdom? Isn't he just a single warrior? Compare him to the sprawling armies of Bellis and he doesn't seem like much of a weapon."

"Not this discussion again," said Shennen, groaning.

"A Dark Watchman is indeed a mighty weapon," said Taris. "He is a warrior unlike any other. To even have one Dark Watchman on our side is a great blessing. I would say that Lannon is, in his own way, just as important as any Flamestone. If, that is, he can manage to keep himself alive."

"But that's the problem," said Trenton. "Lannon is young and able to fall into snares. Also, he bears the great potential to be cursed by the Deep Shadow, like all the Dark Watchman of ages past--which means he could turn against us. Can we afford to have him as a foe, considering all the other dangers we face? Probably not. He could doom us. And it is not likely he will escape that curse."

"Does it matter?" said Shennen, rolling his eyes. "It's not like we're going to throw Lannon out because he might be a future threat to us."

"Lannon can escape the curse," said Taris. "It doesn't matter if the others faltered. Lannon doesn't need to follow in their footsteps, as long as he remains strong and wise. He has compassion and nobility, and if he clings to both relentlessly, he will not fail. Yet even a single act of selfishness or cruelty could doom him."

"I have never spoken to Lannon," said Lort. "But I admire him greatly. I believe he of all Dark Watchman will maintain his honor."

"Perhaps," said Trenton, "but the odds are against it."

Shennen yawned. "Why do we discuss topics that have been talked to death? Yes, Lannon could fall to the Deep Shadow. We know that. We knew it before we recruited him. And so on and so forth."

Taris smiled. "You are still fairly new to the High Council, Shennen. You will come to understand that talking a topic to death is what we do. Especially with Trenton around, as he is never satisfied."

Trenton shrugged. "An issue tends to remain on the agenda until we figure out a solution. So yes, I will continue bringing up old topics."

"Can we move on now?" asked Shennen.

Trenton sneered. "I take it you would rather be out and about assassinating someone? Why don't you go and dispatch King Verlamer?"

"I have considered it," said Shennen, his expression serious.

"Moving on, then," said Taris, reaching for his tea. The sorcerer hesitated, seemingly lost in thought all of a sudden. "What were we talking about?" he asked, looking confused. It was no secret that the Lord Knight of Dremlock still suffered pain from his terrible injuries--from the scars on half of his face that had been inflicted by evil sorcery to a severe head injury that had damaged his brain--and occasionally he experienced brief mental lapses that caused him to forget things or lose focus. But overall, Taris remained the wisest figure at Dremlock and the one whom everyone looked to for answers. He had done an extraordinary job of overcoming wounds that had once nearly forced him into retirement, and his skills as a sorcerer had increased dramatically in spite of his struggles.

"The Flamestones," Shennen reminded him.

"We've talked enough about the Flamestones," said Trenton. "Let us talk about the Hand of Tharnin and what has become of it."

Taris fixed his gaze on Lort. "Recently, we sought to bring the Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone to Dremlock. However, our Knights were ambushed three days ago and the Hand of Tharnin was stolen. The Black Flamestone was carried off by one of our Elder Hawks during the battle and brought here, and now it is locked safely in a very secure vault."

"Was it Bellis?" asked Lort, dreading the thought that King Verlamer was in possession of the Hand of Tharnin.

"We believe it was Tenneth Bard," said Taris. "The Black Knight is alive again in the flesh, and he was seeking the device. Now that he has possession of it, he will be even more dangerous--which is why I suspect he will try to take Ollanhar. Furlus will have his hands full against this foe."

"If you don't mind me asking," said Lort, "what does this all have to do with me? Why are you sharing this information?"

"You are very adept at using a shield," said Taris. "The best at Dremlock, in fact. You have mastered a style that hasn't been used for two centuries. It is our opinion that we need more of what you have to offer. We need to create strong defenders of Ollanhar who can withstand Tenneth Bard and his Goblins. You will go there with a group of Brown Knights--twenty in all--and train them in how to properly use their shields as weapons. We have forged spiked shields for all of you. You are hereby promoted to the Council of Ollanhar."

Lort bowed, overwhelmed by the great honor that had just been bestowed on him. "Thank you Master Taris, Master Shennen, and Master..." His mind drew a blank for a moment in his excitement.

"Master Trenton," said Trenton, frowning.

Lort bowed twice to the former Investigator. "I will do my best to serve, as always. But I have a question, if you don't mind. How is fighting with a shield superior to fighting with sword or axe?"

"It's not necessarily superior," said Shennen. "Just different. At one time, Brown Knights fought only with shields and were very successful. However, that was eventually changed because of Kuran Darkender--who wielded both sword and shield. It was decided by the High Council that the Brown Knights should return to their roots. But we believe that was a mistake, that fighting with a shield only--as you do, Lort--is the best way for Brown Knights to engage in battle. It is a style that Tenneth Bard won't be familiar with, and it will give us an edge."

"We need an edge," said Taris, "because Tenneth Bard has raised a massive army of mighty Goblins, and with the Hand of Tharnin to serve him, we can only guess at how powerful he has become."

"When do I leave?" asked Lort, eager to begin the mission.

"Today," said Taris. "Go and choose your twenty Brown Knights, then prepare your horses. You will ride out after lunch."

"I will defend Ollanhar to my last breath," Lort promised. He couldn't help but grin, thinking of how his career had just taken a huge leap forward. He was now on the Council of Ollanhar! He couldn't believe his good fortune.

The Green Knights exchanged grim glances, and Lort's grin faltered. "Yet hopefully it won't come to that," he added. He lifted his cup with a trembling hand and finished off his tea, which had grown cold.

### Chapter 14:

The Golden Truth

"I will give you one more chance," said the Lawkeeper, to the captives. "You will tell us everything you know about, well, everything\--and do it quickly--or I will coerce the information from you by means of pain."

None of the Divine Knights spoke.

The Lawkeeper was soaked from the storm, yet somehow his silver hair continued to maintain its spiked appearance. His devilish Birlote face was twisted with anger. "I could be warm and dry inside my tent, relaxing with a goblet of wine, but I have to stand here getting blasted by the rain like a fool waiting for you to speak. With each moment that passes, your suffering will be greater."

"What do you hope to learn?" asked Galvia. "You already know why we're journeying through these mountains. You know what our goal is. You have been following us for that very reason."

"Don't try to deceive me," said the Lawkeeper. "You are on the Council of Ollanhar. I know there is useful information you can give me that would result in a quicker and more pleasant death for you."

"Death is death," said Galvia. "The manner in which you kill me doesn't matter, for eventually my pain will end. You have nothing to barter with."

"The life of the boy, perhaps?" said the Lawkeeper. He drew a dagger and stepped close to Taith.

Taith cringed and shrank back.

"Don't think I won't do this," said the Lawkeeper. "Even a child's life can be sacrificed for the greater good of my kingdom. So are you willing to tell me what I wish to hear in exchange for his survival?"

"No," said Galvia, glowering up at him. "I will not barter for his life or the life of anyone else. I will obey the Sacred Laws no matter what, as commanded by the Divine Essence. Do what you must."

The Lawkeeper's face turned crimson. "I'm so weary of you insane fanatics and your pathetic god. Even the life of an innocent boy won't sway you from your wretched beliefs?" He sighed and rubbed his forehead. "This is why I hate dealing with Divine Knights."

"We have nothing to tell you," said Garaloth.

"Very well," said the Lawkeeper. "You leave me no choice. I must introduce you to one of my favorite devices--The Golden Truth."

The Golden Truth was a fancy torture rack on wheels that was rolled into the tent. It was made of oak and polished brass, with symbols of the sun carved into the wood. The Lawkeeper gazed at it with pride.

"This will make you talk," he said. "It has never failed."

Galvia's irons were removed and she was bound to the torture rack. Slowly the Lawkeeper turned the crank, stretching her body. "You will feel immense pain in your joints, like nothing you have ever felt before."

As a Divine Knight of Dremlock, Galvia was well prepared for torture. Using the power of her mind, backed by her Knightly essence, she fortified her body against the torment, flooding her limbs with energy. The energy not only dulled the pain, but it also protected her against injury.

Frowning, the Lawkeeper turned the crank even more, grunting from the effort, and still Galvia's face did not change expression. She was capable of resisting for hours or even days if need be, her mind going into a deep state of meditation. Time and space became meaningless for her, and all she knew or understood was the fortification of her body against the force that was trying to stretch it. She became like stone--immobile, unyielding, and blessed with endless patience.

"I think I'll go have some wine," said the Lawkeeper. "Meanwhile, you just enjoy the warm embrace of The Golden Truth. It will loosen your tongue." He strode from the tent, leaving a soldier with a crossbow to guard the prisoners.

"Are you okay, Galvia?" Wreld called out.

"Don't talk to her," said Garaloth. "She will need all of her focus."

"Sorry," Wreld mumbled.

"So this is how Bellis treats its prisoners," said Garaloth, to the soldier. "Putting a woman on a torture rack. Are you enjoying the sight?"

The soldier--a lean man with a scarred, weathered face and eyes that reflected bitterness--sneered in response and spat on the ground. "Why should I care? You are enemies of King Verlamer and no punishment is too harsh for you. If I could put an arrow in you right now, I would."

"Are all warriors of Bellis so heartless?" asked Wreld. "You leave a boy in shackles to shiver in the mud? What kind of coward are you?"

"Don't waste your time," said the soldier. "You won't get any pity from me. I've killed women and children myself, and I don't regret it in the least. Those who oppose my kingdom are not human and don't deserve compassion. I hate the whole lot of you and will enjoy watching you die."

The Knights fell silent, knowing it was useless to try to reason with this warrior. He was jaded to the point where even a child's life meant nothing to him and all he knew or understood was hatred for his foes.

An hour passed, and then the Lawkeeper returned with a Thallite Giant who had to duck to fit under the tent roof. The giant seemed to fill up the tent, his massive muscles bulging beneath his crimson armor.

"Are you ready to talk yet?" the Lawkeeper asked.

Galvia didn't respond, lost completely in her focus. She was aware of what was going on around her, but only in a vague, detached sense.

"Amazing," the Lawkeeper said, shaking his head. "Divine Knights are extraordinary warriors. No wonder your kingdom is still free when so many others have fallen. But let's see how you do against a Thallite."

The Lawkeeper turned to the giant. "Use your strength freely, my friend, but don't kill her. I only want her to suffer greatly."

Grinning, the giant seized the brass crank in his huge hand and slowly began to turn it. The others groaned, dreading what was about to happen.

***

Lannon and the others followed a winding mountain path that led them across narrow ledges and steep slopes. They realized they could not have ridden their horses along this perilous route anyway. They found themselves in places where one slip would send them tumbling to their doom, with the wind and rain and lightning making things all the more deadly.

At last they came to a point in the trail that was nearly impassable. The path ended at a sheer cliff, but resumed higher up on the mountainside across a narrow divide. Lothrin had a coil of rope and a grapple hook, and he tried to snag it on rocks on the upper path, but it kept slipping back down.

"Unless we can figure out a way to fly," said Jace, "we seem to be in trouble here. By the look of things, it appears the mountain rock shifted at some point, rendering this trail useless." He pointed to where the trail climbed ever higher up the mountainside, revealed by the lightning. "I'm guessing this is the only way up to Wallrock from here, unless one has plenty of rope and other climbing gear, which we do not. We are ill equipped for this journey."

"Yet if the horses went to Wallrock," said Aldreya, "there must be an easier route."

Jace nodded. "There is, but I don't know where to find it. It has been too long since I last visited these peaks, and I don't remember."

"I think I can make the jump," said Lannon, gazing upward. "Give me your rope and hook, Lothrin." The prospect of leaping up and over a deadly divide made Lannon's stomach churn, but he had no intention of giving up. His focus was on rescuing Prince Vannas at all costs.

"We're all going to get struck by lightning," said Dallsa, who was crouching by a boulder. "This is too dangerous. We must turn back."

"We have to continue on," said Aldreya.

Lannon took the rope coil and hesitated, flooding his body with the Eye of Divinity and focusing his mind. The others stood in silence, heads bowed, not wanting to disrupt his focus. He waited for the lightning to flash, and then he raced forward and leapt high into the air. It was a magnificent leap, but he failed miserably to reach his lofty target--instead using his sorcery to raise him up the rest of the way to the path. He lay on the ground exhausted for a moment, a colossal amount of energy expended to levitate himself.

He fastened the hook to a thick black root (a dead root that looked to be from a Goblin-spawning Mother Tree) and then tossed the rope down to Lothrin. Without hesitation, the Ranger climbed up to the higher path. One by one the others climbed up, with Dallsa having the most trouble. The healer was not skilled at climbing, but Lannon seized her with his power and helped her along. By the time she reached the higher ground, Lannon was so exhausted he had to rest for several minutes before they could resume their journey. Using the Eye to move objects took a severe toll on him lately, as his power had become more focused around swordplay, strength, and quick, athletic movements (the typical style of a Dark Watchman).

As they slowly worked their way along the narrow path, lightning struck perilously close to them, causing Lannon to shove the entire group backward on instinct--and nearly causing Dallsa to stumble off the ledge to her doom. Jace seized the healer in one huge hand before she could fall.

Lannon groaned in weariness. "Couldn't there be an easier route?"

When they came to a shallow cave in the mountainside, Aldreya ordered them to halt. "We shall rest here and wait for the lightning to calm down. It's simply too dangerous to continue on right now."

"So now we decide to wait," said Dallsa, shaking her head in amusement. "What brought on that decision?"

"That last lightning blast was a bit too close," said Aldreya. "I'm certain I could feel the heat from it, and I'm surprised my hair isn't sticking up." She touched her curly silver hair that hung in wet tangles. Her youthful face had gone a bit pale. "I know every second counts, but if we get struck by lightning we won't have any chance of rescuing Prince Vannas anyway."

"I have to agree," said Jerret. "I thought we were finished right then and there. Death by lightning is a sad way for a warrior to go."

"I've been struck by lightning before," said Jace, shrugging. "It tingles."

"Were you injured?" asked Aldreya.

Jace didn't answer, his grey eyes distant.

"Were you injured?" she asked again, louder.

"What?" he replied. "Oh, not really. Just burned somewhat, from head to toe. I lost an eye too, come to think of it."

"You lost an eye?" said Lannon.

Jace nodded. "It popped out of my head and was hanging by a thread. I pushed it back in with a spoon, though. Good as new." The sorcerer nodded. "That's right, my friends. If your eye ever pops out, a spoon really comes in handy. That's why I always carry one with me--ever since that incident." He felt around in his cloak pocket and took out a wooden spoon. He grinned. "The very spoon I once used to fix my eye. It also comes in handy for soup."

The others had no idea what to make of that story.

Lannon felt restless, wondering how Galvia was faring. "I hope they don't have any trouble back at camp," he said. "Especially with Taith there. I wouldn't want anything to happen to the boy."

"They will be fine," said Jerret, with a dismissive wave. "Galvia will take care of him. Trust me, Lannon, our camp is well defended."

"Of course," said Lannon, but he remained plagued by a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He wanted to hurry and rescue the prince so they could return to camp. Yet they were stuck in a cave until the lightning slacked off.

***

"Surely you must be in terrible pain," the Lawkeeper said to Galvia. "And trust me--it can get much worse. Do you have anything to say?"

Galvia didn't answer. She was aware that the pressure had increased considerably, but still her body held. The Thallite Giant gazed down at her and frowned, his hand pausing on the crank.

"Leave her be, you coward!" Garaloth shouted.

"Silence, or I will gag you," the Lawkeeper said. He motioned to the giant. "Double your efforts. Whatever happens, happens."

The giant licked his lips, eager to cause damage. He turned the crank some more--until it seemed the chains might rip apart--and still Galvia's body held. His eyes wide, the giant looked to the Lawkeeper.

"She is like iron," said the Thallite, in a booming voice that was louder than the storm. "This torture won't work on her. If I apply greater pressure, she will likely be ripped apart. And so I await your orders."

"Last chance to talk," the Lawkeeper said to Galvia.

The others bowed their heads, their faces pale.

Galvia heard his words, but she had no intention of responding. Her focus was extreme--beyond anything she had ever accomplished before. Her skill of Fire warmed her body, flooding her limbs with massive strength and endurance, as she prepared for the next phase of the torment.

The Lawkeeper nodded. "Very well. Kill her."

"It will be my pleasure," boomed the Thallite. With a grunt, he threw all of his strength into turning the crank, determined to tear the young Knight apart. But the crank snapped off in his hand.

The giant held up the broken crank. "Whoops."

The Lawkeeper's face contorted with rage. "So she has defeated The Golden Truth. That has never been done before. We'll see how she fares with the gallows! Build me a platform at once. We will hang the three Knights."

Ethella entered the tent, the blue glow from her staff falling upon them. "We don't have time for that. We can execute them with sword or bow." Her eyes sparkled with evil. "Or I could just do it myself."

"No," said the Lawkeeper. "I want them hung--a traditional execution. I don't care about being in a hurry, and I don't care about the storm. She escaped The Golden Truth, but she will not escape a stout rope!"

It took them less than an hour to construct a platform, during which time the storm only grew worse. The platform stood out in the open, with three ropes hanging down--one for each Knight.

Galvia, Wreld, and Garaloth were taken atop the platform, their wrists shackled behind their backs. A rope was placed around each neck.

"This is the end for all of you," said the Lawkeeper. "Stand there for a moment and contemplate that. Your precious god won't save you. He leaves you to hang from the neck." Lightning struck close by, and the Lawkeeper shrank back. He gazed warily at the sky.

"Don't kill them!" Taith begged.

"Silence, boy," said the Lawkeeper, his hand on Taith's shoulder. "You will be better off without them. Their kingdom is doomed."

Garaloth turned to Galvia, his eyes full of despair. "How can this happen? The Divine Essence spoke through me--as if I have a great destiny as a Knight. Why would our god do that and then abandon me?"

"I don't know," said Galvia, which was the truth.

"It's not over yet," said Wreld, but his expression showed the doubt he was feeling. "Maybe Lannon and Prince Vannas will save us."

Galvia bowed her head and didn't reply.

"It can't end this way," said Garaloth. "It's not fair! I'm not ready to die. I...I haven't done anything yet. I haven't made a name for myself. If I die now, I will be forgotten."

"You won't be forgotten," said Galvia. "The words the Divine Essence spoke to Lothrin will always be remembered--words that came from your lips, Garaloth." It was the only comfort she had to offer. She too desperately wanted to live on. There was so much more she wanted to accomplish. She had done so well in her brief time at Dremlock and Ollanhar, rising quickly through the ranks to become a respected Knight and member of the Council. The thought of it ending on this night was nearly unbearable, but she saw no way out. Her parents would be devastated, and she hated the thought of them suffering over her death.

"If this is the end," said Wreld, "I want to say I have truly enjoyed serving with the two of you. You are both great Knights."

"As are you, Wreld," said Galvia. "Yes, this could very well be the end for us. Try to find peace in your hearts. Take comfort in knowing we did all we could to serve our god and kingdom."

Wreld sighed. "Soon we will rest forever."

"But we can't give up!" said Garaloth, panic in his eyes. "Lannon!" he called out. "Prince Vannas! Come and help us!"

The soldier gagged him with a strip of cloth.

"They won't make it in time," said Ethella, with a laugh. "In fact, they might never return at all--considering what they're facing."

"It is time to get this over with," said the Lawkeeper. "Galvia shall be first." He signaled to one of his warriors who stood atop the platform. "Proceed with her execution."

The time for hesitation was over. Galvia was a Grey Dwarf, and seldom did one of her kind die without struggling to the last breath. Summoning her skill of Fire, she melted through her irons and then plunged her burning hands through the soldier's chest, killing him instantly. She shoved his dead body from the platform, and with a cry of rage, she leapt straight toward the Lawkeeper.

The Lawkeeper took a step back, his eyes wide in shock. But Ethella was there to meet Galvia--blue lightning from her staff freezing the Dwarf. Galvia fell to her knees in the mud, energy rippling over her body.

"I've had enough!" the Lawkeeper bellowed. "Shoot them now!" He motioned to his soldiers, and they raised their crossbows.

Galvia made peace with her soul and waited. She had done all she could, and there was simply nothing left.

The bowstrings released their deadly bolts.

### Chapter 15:

The Gauntlet of Axes

It was a cloudy, cool morning when Faindan Stillsword reached Ollanhar Tower. His heart was heavy with gloom as he gazed up at the dark keep, for he believed this was the day he would lose his Knighthood. He had violated the Sacred Laws in severing and destroying his own hand, and he had disobeyed Aldreya's command by going to Ollanhar instead of Dremlock.

A Divine Knight must never bring serious harm to his body. To do so, even to relieve suffering, is a grave offense against the gift of life. Those were the words of the Divine Essence. Faindan pondered them, searching for a loophole, but there was none to be found. Clearly, he had cut off his hand strictly to relieve temporary suffering. It had served no other benefit. Faindan would have likely recovered fully had he simply endured the pain.

He hesitated, wondering if he should head for the stable, get on his horse, and ride for Dremlock. He wasn't sure why he had chosen to come here and put himself at the mercy of Furlus Goblincrusher. Furlus was a sullen Grey Dwarf and it seemed unlikely he would take pity on Faindan.

"What was I thinking?" Faindan whispered to himself. He gazed at the statues of the two Dark Watchmen that stood on either side of the door, and the gloom in his heart deepened. The weight of the ancient tower seemed to bear down on him, challenging his foolish reasoning. He turned to leave.

But again a nagging voice in his mind told him to remain, and without giving it another thought, he strode up to the door--where a tall Red Knight was standing guard, a man Faindan didn't recognize.

"If he's not too busy," said Faindan, "I would like to meet with Furlus Goblincrusher. I...was sent by Aldreya Silverhawk." That last statement wasn't entirely true, and Faindan winced as he spoke.

The Red Knight yelled out a few words, and the door was opened from the inside, where another Red Knight waited.

Faindan entered the tower and found Furlus in the Entrance Chamber, seated at a table and studying a map of Gallamerth. The Tower Master glanced up briefly and then went back to examining the map.

"Not much left that Bellis hasn't taken," Furlus grunted. "Now Gloneharn Kingdom has fallen. Just found that out today. They fought a bitter battle, and nearly all of them were killed. A nearby town was demolished, and everyone in it was executed. Bellis has been growing increasingly brutal."

"Terrible," Faindan mumbled. "If I may sit down, I would like a moment of your time, Master Furlus. I know you are very busy..."

Furlus didn't answer for several moments. His beard got in the way of the map and he brushed it aside. "When I look at this map, as I do each day, I still can barely believe what I'm seeing--that one kingdom has expanded to such an astonishing degree. King Verlamer is a master strategist."

"May I sit?" Faindan asked again.

Furlus glanced up. "Lost a hand, did you?"

"That's what I came here to talk about," said Faindan. "Actually, I was ordered by Aldreya to go to Dremlock. I refused that order and came here."

Furlus raised his eyebrows. "I remember now. You left with the others during the Festival of Souls. How are they doing?"

"Just fine," said Faindan. "Last I knew. But I've returned here to discuss my personal situation."

Furlus motioned for him to sit. "I don't have all day, so tell me your story quickly. Why did you ignore Aldreya's command?"

"I don't know," said Faindan. "For some reason I was compelled to come here." He shrugged. "I wish I knew why."

Furlus scowled. "That's a sorry reason to disobey the Green Knight of Ollanhar. Are you sure you weren't struck in the head as well?"

"My thoughts are clear," said Faindan. "Somewhat." He sighed. "I cut off my own hand. It was infected with the Deep Shadow."

"Poking around in old ruins, were you?" asked Furlus.

"Exactly that," said Faindan.

Furlus nodded. "That's usually a terrible mistake, but not always. Sometimes there is treasure to be found. So did the infection threaten your life? Was it temporary, or permanent?"

"Dallsa had it under control," Faindan admitted. "I would have healed. I severed it simply to be rid of my terrible pain." His face burned hot with shame as he spoke. He felt like a wretched excuse for a Knight.

"I see," said Furlus, frowning. "So you caved in like a weakling. I'll bet you made a fool of yourself as well. Did you cry like a baby?"

"All of that and more," said Faindan.

"So you broke the Sacred Laws," said Furlus, "and now you only have one hand to show for it. And you're hoping I will take pity on you--something the rigid Taris Warhawk wouldn't do. You want to keep your Knighthood and fight on with one hand. Yet you seem to possess a weak will, so why should you retain your Knighthood? You come in here intent upon saving it, but you show no passion. Your voice is flat--as if you have given up hope or no longer care. If you truly wanted to remain a Knight, I would expect a more desperate plea--maybe even a tear or two shed. You make it very easy for me, lawbreaker, to simply demote you to Orange and be done with it."

Faindan sighed. "I'm not very emotional. I find it hard to express my feelings. But yes, I do care greatly about serving Dremlock."

Furlus yawned. "The Sacred Laws strictly forbid what you have done, and then you disobeyed a direct order from your Green Knight. I truly hate to see a Knight fail, and warriors in similar situations to yours have come before me and retained their Knighthood. But they were convincing, and you are not. I don't care that you lost a hand. Many great Knights--Dwarves in particular--have had missing arms and even missing legs! Have you ever heard of Hathod Ironfist? He was a Grey Dwarf with a metal leg. He led Knights to victory in many battles. But you are not him. You seem to lack heart, and that is intolerable. I'll give you one last chance to prove me wrong before I strip you of your rank. One last chance."

"I have plenty of heart," Faindan mumbled. But he felt weary to the core, and his mind seemed to go blank. He questioned whether or not he truly did want to remain a Knight. Furlus was right. Where was the passion? At last he said, "I was chosen for the mission to obtain the Green Flamestone."

Furlus stroked his beard thoughtfully. "True. I'm sure you were respected and talented, and I greatly appreciate all you've done for Dremlock. But the Sacred Laws are never to be broken." He waited.

Faindan scratched his head. "I'm friends with Lannon Sunshield. I think he would be disappointed if I was stripped of rank." His words sounded desperate and silly to his ears, and he regretted speaking them.

Furlus didn't respond to that. He continued to wait.

"I'm good with the blade," said Faindan. "Very good, actually. I slew a Wolf. A really huge one. You wouldn't believe how big it was." He held up the stump of his wrist. "Yet I killed it with one hand."

"That's worth something," said Furlus, nodding with approval. "That's the sort of thing I like to hear. What else?"

Faindan struggled to think of something. "The Wolf was the biggest I've ever seen. I still can't believe I defeated it."

Furlus frowned.

"But that's not all," Faindan said quickly. "I slew a Goblin with tentacles that was terrorizing an artist. It was very powerful."

Furlus looked skeptical. "Tentacles, you say?"

"It grabbed me and squeezed me," said Faindan. "I nearly died." He instantly regretted admitting that last truth.

Furlus sighed. "What else?"

"I just...have a lot of heart," Faindan said weakly. "I love being a Knight. I absolutely love it. It's all I think about." He wiped a dry eye in pretense that a tear had formed there. "See, I don't even have the words to say how much I truly love it. I want to serve our god and kingdom, and I will never break the Sacred Laws again." Faindan leaned back in his chair, certain he had just failed miserably.

Furlus bowed his head, looking almost embarrassed. "Well, I think you do have some heart and talent, but I'm not feeling it. A Divine Knight needs to be extremely dedicated and focused. I think you should be demoted to Orange for now, but if you do your duties without complaining for six months, I will permit you to go to Taris and plead your case."

Faindan groaned. "Then it's truly over." He rose from his chair, trembling. "I'm finished as a Divine Knight. I guess I'll just go...somewhere. Can I keep my horse?"

Furlus shook his head. "The Greywinds remain at Dremlock or Ollanhar. I'm sorry, Faindan. I offered you a chance to speak to Taris, but if you must leave, then I wish you well. It is always a sad day when we lose a Knight."

"Six months as an Orange Squire?" said Faindan. "That's the chance you offered me? That would be terribly humiliating."

"It would also be humbling," said Furlus. "And I think you need that. If you endured the shame and served us well, Taris would be more inclined to listen. Taris is not as unreasonable as some tend to think."

"Six months," said Faindan, "with no promise that my Knighthood would be restored? Not even a slight promise?"

"No promises," said Furlus.

"I'm going to pass on that," said Faindan. "Goodbye."

Furlus shrugged. "Your choice. Obviously, you don't care about Knighthood as much as you claim. Good luck on your journeys. You should visit Dremlock for payment and other instructions on how to properly retire. You can take your horse that far, at least. You can purchase a lesser horse there."

A lesser horse, Faindan thought. He would have to part with his best friend, and the thought of it filled his heart with pain.

"I do care," Faindan insisted. "But I'm certain Taris would refuse me, and my humiliation would be for nothing."

Furlus focused on his map again, content to let the discussion end.

Faindan searched his mind in a final attempt to think of anything that might sway the Tower Master. "I saw Kuran Darkender," he said, remembering the vision. "Well, it wasn't actually him, of course. It was like a waking dream."

Furlus looked up, a sudden glint in his eyes. "Explain."

"When I was fighting that Goblin," said Faindan. "The one with the tentacles. I was being crushed to death, and suddenly Kuran Darkender was there and I felt strong. That's how I broke free and killed the beast."

"Are you being truthful?" asked Furlus, his voice taking on a dangerous tone. "Look into my eyes and repeat what you said."

Faindan did so, wondering what this was all about. "I'm being completely truthful. However, I don't actually think Kuran Darkender's spirit came to me. I think it was all in my mind, but it did seem to lend me strength."

"Describe the incident in more detail," said Furlus.

Faindan did as commanded, telling all he could remember.

Furlus sat in silence for a few moments, a somber expression on his grizzled face, and Faindan thought he might have angered the Dwarf. Perhaps Furlus thought he was lying or somehow insulting Kuran Darkender.

But at last Furlus' expression changed. He displayed a rare smile. "Well, Faindan, it seems you did put forth a great effort against that Goblin, which was probably quite a powerful foe. Perhaps I made my decision too quickly. On second thought, I think you should remain a Divine Knight. Would you care for some ale?"

Faindan was completely baffled.

"Let's have some ale," said Furlus, filling a couple mugs.

"What about the Sacred Laws?" asked Faindan. "And the fact that I disobeyed Aldreya? Am I to be punished?"

"No need for that," said Furlus, pushing a mug of ale toward him. "I am overruling Aldreya's decision, and as far as the Sacred Laws go...well, we all make mistakes from time to time. Just don't let it happen again."

"I won't," said Faindan, in amazement. He considered asking Furlus what had brought on such a sudden change, but he decided he better not press the issue. Instead, he simply enjoyed his ale, which was the best he had ever tasted.

***

After their meeting, Faindan was sent to town by Furlus to speak to the leader of the Nine Axes, Valedos Firehelm. Valedos was a legendary Dark Knight who wore an extremely rare, full set of Glaetherin armor--including a horned helm--that he had found in the maze of tunnels below Dremlock. The armor, which had belonged to a Dwarven prince, had been a perfect fit, and the High Council had awarded it to Valedos for his many heroic deeds.

Valedos wasn't wearing his armor on this day--though he did have his battle axe with him, as always. He stood in the tavern at the bar, his shoulders as broad as those of Furlus and his body laden with muscle beneath his black tunic. A forge accident had left his face scarred and part of his beard unable to grow back--with the latter being a mark of shame that added to his sullen demeanor. He watched Faindan with suspicion as he approached. The tavern was filled with Knights engaged in merrymaking in their free time, though the rest of the Nine Axes were not present. Valedos stood alone, a big wooden mug in hand.

Faindan bowed. "Greetings. I was sent here by Furlus." He showed Valedos his missing hand. "He seemed to think you could help with this."

Valedos slammed his ale mug down on the bar. "Can't help you," he growled. "I have no idea how to make a hand grow back."

Faindan wasn't sure what to make of that response. "Okay, but I didn't expect you to have that sort of skill. I'm just doing what Furlus told me to do--come here and see you. So here I am."

"What happened?" asked Valedos.

Faindan told his story. When he was finished, Valedos gazed at him with contempt.

"That's a pathetic tale," said the Dark Knight. "I'm surprised Furlus didn't just toss you right out of the Order."

Anger burned within Faindan. "Well, he didn't. He wants me to remain a Knight. So can you help me, or not?"

"Possibly," said Valedos. "But why should I? You brought disgrace to Dremlock and Ollanhar. If I help you, I want some assurance that you're going to grow a backbone and become a real warrior."

Faindan's anger increased. "I can't give any such guarantee, because the whole concept of it is rather insulting. Until you've been in the situation I have, you shouldn't judge me."

"You came to me for help," said Valedos, "and I'm deciding whether or not you're worth the effort--so I'm going to judge you. You're one of those snobbish Blue Knights, I see, who think you should get treated like royalty. Well, I'm going to speak my mind. If you don't like it, the door is that way." He pointed.

Faindan stood his ground.

Valedos nodded. "Then as I was saying, I won't help you until you prove to me you can overcome that weak will of yours."

"How can I possibly do that?" asked Faindan. "There is no way to prove such a thing."

"Sure there is," said Valedos. "You must pass through the Gauntlet of Axes and become an honorary member of the Nine Axes. Only a handful of Knights have made it through the Gauntlet. A good many have failed."

"And what would it accomplish?" asked Faindan. "What would it mean to be an honorary member?"

Valedos laughed. "Essentially nothing--beyond earning great respect. But if you succeed, I will find a way to turn that missing hand of yours into your greatest strength. Bear in mind that the Gauntlet of Axes is difficult. Usually only very stout Olrogs can emerge victorious. If you were to prevail, it would erase the cowardly actions of your past--actions that other Knights will look upon with contempt. But if you complete the trial, no one would question your heart and skill ever again. So what is your answer?"

The challenge sounded worthy. Faindan didn't want to be a Knight that others regarded as a coward, and it would take many heroic deeds to change their minds about him. Yet the Gauntlet of Axes seemed to offer a quick fix for his reputation--if he could prevail. And if he failed, no one would think less of him. It seemed to be a gamble with little risk.

"I'll do it," said Faindan.

"Good," said Valedos. "Just a word of warning--the Gauntlet of Axes can be very painful and dangerous. It can leave you scarred. Still want in?"

Faindan felt he had to prove himself regardless of the risks. "I'm ready. We can do this right now if you want."

Valedos grinned in approval. "That's the spirit. We'll have a drink or three first, though. My warriors are busy right now helping some townsfolk repair a bridge. We'll meet up with them later and go out back." His grey eyes narrowed. "And then you'll truly know the meaning of pain."

"I already know the meaning of pain," said Faindan. "I cut off my own hand after being driven mad by pain, remember? Trust me--I'm prepared for whatever punishment you plan to give me."

Valedos didn't reply.

***

The Gauntlet of Axes took place in the grass behind the tavern. The Nine Axes were present, along with all the Knights from the tavern. It seemed Faindan had already earned a bit of respect just for agreeing to the test, as the onlookers cheered for him. He sensed they didn't envy him, however, as they seemed to know something he didn't.

Valedos stood off to one side, in full armor, and the remaining eight members of the Nine Axes gathered in two rows--four on each side and spaced unevenly across from each other. They raised their battle axes, which were bathed in a fiery glow from the late afternoon sun that made them look bloody. Their bearded faces were grim, showing no hint of mercy.

"You're lucky," Valedos said to Faindan. "There used to be Ten Axes, with five on each side of the gauntlet. You only have to endure eight."

"How do I begin?" asked Faindan, gazing at the menacing battle axes and wondering what the Dwarves planned to do with them. Surely they weren't going to swing at him--but when it came to Olrogs one never knew.

"As with all gauntlets," said Valedos, "the goal is to pass through it. Make it through and you win. Fall down and give up--you lose. And don't worry, you will not be cut. This is a trial of endurance only."

Faindan took position at one end of the gauntlet. The crowd went silent, their faces tense as they watched.

The battle axes burned with yellow fire.

Shoring up his will, Faindan started forward. The first Dark Knight he encountered brought the burning axe close to him, and the pain that exploded within Faindan was something he could not have prepared for it. It hurt so bad he screamed and dropped to his knees. It felt like his flesh was boiling.

Was this the end of the trial? Was he so weak he couldn't even get past the first axe? He asked himself these questions, and the answer was that he somehow had to get up and keep going. The memory of severing his own hand flooded him with anger and determination and drove him to rise again.

Faindan stumbled forward, and all he knew was a haze of pain, as axe after axe came down to touch him with yellow flames. He wasn't even sure he was still walking or if he was dead and his soul was simply floating along. All he knew was he had to make it through the gauntlet or he could never find peace.

At last he simply gave out. There was nothing left, and his mind went dark. He didn't know if he had succeeded or failed, but he had given everything he had and was proud of himself regardless.

Faindan became aware that someone was slapping his face just hard enough to wake him. He looked up to find Valedos standing over him. The leader of the Nine Axes gazed down on Faindan with awe in his grey eyes, as the crowd cheered.

"You did it!" Valedos said. "You made it through!"

"I made it?" Faindan mumbled. "How?"

Valedos seemed to contemplate that for a moment. Then he replied, "I have no idea. I never expected you to succeed."

Then Faindan passed out again.

### Chapter 16:

The Lair of Hatred, Flame, and Iron

The Knights waited almost an hour for the lightning to cease, but it only slacked off a bit. Finally they emerged from their cave and started upward along the mountain path again. The wind and rain had not let up at all, however--continuing to hammer into them with a force that threatened to push them to their doom.

They moved slowly along a narrow ledge, pressing close to the sheer rock wall as the wind shoved at them. The rain was coming down so hard there were small yet dangerous waterfalls all over the cliffs. It was as if the entire mountain was working against them and seeking their doom.

After a flash of lightning, Lothrin cried out a warning, pointing upward. "I saw something crawling down the mountainside!"

Jace lifted a Birlote torch high into the air with his long arm, and the reddish light from the glowing gem revealed a Ghoul with gleaming eyes--crawling straight down the sheer cliff toward them.

As soon as it was exposed to the glow, the Ghoul leapt straight for Lannon, its jaws opening wide as if coming unhinged to expose its fangs. Lannon caught the monster with his sorcery, with the Ghoul hanging just above him, and forced it over the ledge. As it fell past him, Lannon lashed out with his sword and beheaded it. The dead monster dropped silently from view.

After that, the Knights grew a bit paranoid, wondering if more attacks would come from above. Jace continued to wave the torch high in the air, and Lannon scanned the cliffs with the Eye. This made the journey even slower.

Eventually the narrow ledge led them to a huge Dark Mother tree that seemed to have grown partially into the cliff. Its black roots extended across the path and over the ledge. It was an ancient and slimy tree, with warty lumps on its bark that oozed black blood. The aura of the Deep Shadow surrounded it, warning the Knights to turn back or die. Feeding on the tree were three Goblin Vultures, making hideous sucking noises, their beaks locked onto serpent-like vines that flowed with the foul blood. The stench of the tree was overwhelming, even in a thunderstorm.

The Vultures detached themselves from the Dark Mother, screeched, and took flight, wheeling around to attack. One dove at Vorden, and he smashed the beast against the cliff wall with his spiked shield. The Vulture came away stuck to the spikes, and Vorden hurled the beast into the chasm.

In spite of the blinding rain and darkness, Lothrin managed to shoot one of the Vultures, the arrow finding the dark heart and killing the beast instantly. The Vulture dropped from the sky and vanished below.

Aldreya blasted the remaining Vulture with a fireball, which struck its wing. Partially on fire, the Vulture dove into Jerret's legs and both man and beast tumbled off the cliff. Jerret caught the cliff's edge with one hand and hung there until Vorden could haul him back onto the path.

The burning Vulture rose again, determined to dive at the Knights one more time before it was reduced to ash by the sorcerous flames. Lothrin shot another arrow, but this time he missed.

Remembering his (imitation) throwing star, Lannon hurled it at the Vulture and struck it in the head, finishing it off. He summoned the weapon back to his hand as the Vulture fell. He felt good that he still had a throwing weapon--even if it wasn't the spectacular one that King Verlamer had stolen.

Glancing down, however, Lannon saw that the throwing star was now cracked. There was some major flaw in its design (an intentional one, no doubt) that he had previously missed. King Verlamer had cheated him once again--probably in the hope that Lannon would find himself in some dire situation where the star blade was needed only to have it break. Lannon wasn't surprised in the least. He sighed and tossed the weapon off the cliff.

The Vultures were dead, but the bloated Dark Mother awaited them with its gnarled roots. Angry over the throwing star, Lannon strode forward, hacking at the roots with vigor. The black blood poured out onto the ledge as he cut through the obstacles, but it was quickly washed away by the rain. Soon Lannon had cleared a path past the tree.

Beyond the Dark Mother, stone steps led steeply upward. As the warriors started up those steps, lightning flashed above to reveal a pair of evil-looking guard towers awaiting them at the end of their climb. It was a chilling sight.

They climbed higher, as rivers of rain poured down the steps and threatened to wash their feet out from under them. Dallsa slipped and went down, banging her knee hard on the stone. When she rose, she was walking with a limp, wincing in pain with each step.

"Are you okay?" Lannon called back to her.

"I'm fine," she replied. "It hurts, but I'll heal."

Eventually the steep stairway ended at a smooth stone platform, with the guard towers standing on each side of it. The ugly, gloomy towers were adorned with Dwarven runes that spoke of doom. Two iron catapults--permanent fixtures--also stood on the platform. These siege engines were badly rusted, looming over the Knights like twin guardians. Broken, rusted chains hung down from the structures, swaying and creaking in the wind.

Also guarding the fortress entrance was a tall iron door engraved with the face of Graylius--the ancient Dwarven god who resembled a scaly beast with a fanged snout. Dwarven writing was also engraved there that Daledus read aloud:

WALLROCK FORTRESS

THE SECOND HOME OF GRAYLIUS

IF INVITED, ENTER

ALL OTHERS WILL FIND DEATH WITHIN

Daledus nodded. "Typical Olrog warning. Nothing to worry about."

Jace raised his eyebrows. "Oh, I think we have every reason to worry."

The door had no handle. Lannon examined it and found it was a drawbridge with badly rusted chains. He tried pulling it open with the Eye, but everything was rusted into a lump of crud that wouldn't budge.

Lannon leaned wearily against one of the catapults. "Any ideas?"

"When I was last here," said Jace, "this door opened easily. Apparently it has not been used much since then and has fallen into decay."

"How did you open it?" asked Lannon.

"A good pry bar," said Jace. "I wish I had one."

Lannon studied the door, wondering how Jace could have pried it open. It seemed to fit almost seamlessly into the mountainside. Sometimes Jace's explanations were difficult to believe. "So you actually pried it open?"

"It took some work," said Jace. "But yes, I pried it open." He smiled at Lannon. "You doubt my story?"

"It seems rather remarkable," said Lannon. "That's all."

Jace shrugged. "I'm a remarkable man, in case you failed to notice. And shouldn't the Bearer of the Eye know if my story is true?"

Lannon didn't reply. Jace was somehow shielded to the Eye, and Lannon had no way of knowing what the sorcerer was thinking.

"Can we go in there now?" asked Dallsa. "I'm tired of being blasted by the storm. And I'm still worried about the lightning."

Lannon tried again, pulling for all he was worth and exhausting himself in the process, as the wind pushed against him and the rain pelted him unmercifully. Grudgingly, the rusty drawbridge came open.

Lannon led the way. They entered a short hallway, and Lannon sensed an arrow trap in the walls that had been disabled. He mentioned it.

Jace took a bow. "Yes, that was me. I used to be quite skilled at disabling traps in my youth. Unfortunately, that skill has diminished."

Lannon sensed an extreme love of warfare that permeated the fortress. Everywhere he cast the gaze of the Eye there were echoes of rage and hatred for the enemy and a callous disregard for human life. In this keep, humans were reduced to battle statistics, their only measure of value.

Yet Lannon also glimpsed traces of the evil tyrant who considered this his home, and important secrets were revealed. The Eye of Divinity was reacting to the tremendous influence of the Deep Shadow here, improving Lannon's gift of sight. However, he wasn't certain that what he was seeing was the truth or just a trick of Tharnin intended to somehow lead him astray.

"I think I know what goes on here," Lannon said. "This seems to be where most of the Goblin Lords are created. I believe the demon that dwells here is in league with Tenneth Bard. This could be the real fortress from which the Blood Legion is commanded."

"I wouldn't be surprised," said Aldreya. "This fortress has been a target of Dremlock for centuries."

"How can you see all that, Lannon?" asked Dallsa.

"I'm not certain," he admitted. "But in places where the Deep Shadow is especially strong, the Eye seems to expand--almost like it is reacting somehow and fighting back."

Dallsa shuddered. "The Deep Shadow is indeed strong here. I've never felt anything like it. It makes Ollanhar Tower seem like a happy place. The very walls reek of suffering and bloodshed. If not for Prince Vannas, we should never have come to this horrible keep. I sense so much death and despair here. This fortress is an abomination! I can't fathom why the Dwarves built it."

"Times were different back then," said Daledus, but he bowed his head in shame. "The Dwarves were partially in league with Tharnin and lived only for war. Our minds were filled only with thoughts of flame and iron and crushing those who opposed us. The forges ran night and day, as mighty weapons of war were crafted--the likes of which have not been seen since. We were ugly to the core. We despise what we were in those days and will never return to it."

Vorden's face was pale, his hands trembling. "This is the place I have so deeply dreaded. The Soddurn Mountains are bad enough, but here I feel..." He shook his head. "I can't even describe it. It's like my soul is once again enslaved, as if the Hand of Tharnin has me snared. I feel terribly cold inside right now."

"Don't surrender to it," said Lannon. "We need you to stay focused. A fierce battle likely awaits us."

"I'll try," said Vorden. "Yet I feel like I could lose myself here. I'm just being honest, Lannon. If the Deep Shadow gets my soul in its clutches, I could be a great danger to all of you. Perhaps I should leave."

"But we need you," said Lannon. "Prince Vannas needs you."

"You're stronger than that, Vorden," said Jerret. "The Vorden I know does not yield so easily. You're going to continue on."

"Jerret is right," said Daledus. "You're not the type to surrender to your fears like a weakling. I know you better than that."

Yet Vorden hesitated. "I don't know. You're facing enough troubles without me to deal with. I really fear there is a danger."

"If you're that concerned," said Aldreya, "then go and wait outside. I don't want you losing your wits and turning against us."

"Nonsense," said Jace. "Vorden will be fine. These feelings are quite common for a former slave of the Deep Shadow. He'll shrug it off."

"A slave of the Deep Shadow," said Vorden, nodding. "That's what I was--and maybe what I still am. And I can't be trusted."

"You're a Divine Knight," Lannon insisted. "A hero."

"If Taris believes in you, Vorden," said Lothrin, "then so do I. I don't want you to turn back. I want you at my side as we face the darkness."

"Only Vorden knows his heart," said Aldreya. "And he alone must decide if he should continue on."

"Tell me what to do, Lannon," said Vorden, a pleading look on his face. "I don't want to abandon all of you, but..."

Lannon was chilled, realizing that Vorden truly feared losing control. "I don't know. I have the same problem as you."

Vorden sighed. "Yes, somewhat. But right now you are in full command of yourself, Lannon. Maybe it will change in the future, but you're confident that you can resist the evil. I'm not nearly so confident. So please stop suggesting we're in the same situation, because it's making me angry."

Lannon considered apologizing, but his own anger was awakened. He stepped close to Vorden and drew him aside. "Every single Dark Watchman who ever lived ended up in league with Tharnin. Every single one! So don't tell me I don't understand what you're feeling, because it haunts me every day."

"Okay," Vorden mumbled. "I get it."

"We must stop wasting time," said Lothrin. "Prince Vannas is in great peril, and every moment could bring him closer to death."

"Indeed," said Aldreya. "The discussion is over."

They moved on and entered a circular chamber--and Vorden reluctantly followed, plodding along behind everyone else.

"Speaking of forges," said Lannon. "We seem to have found one."

"I'm not surprised," said Daledus. "There is probably more than one forge in this keep."

The chamber was filled with long tables upon which various weapons lay--many of them unfinished. Lannon sensed the curse of the Deep Shadow was upon the weapons, and he ordered the others not to touch them. Upon one table lay a large gauntlet--a replica of the Hand of Tharnin.

Vorden approached the gauntlet and gazed down at it, looking deeply troubled. He reached for it with a trembling hand. He paused for a moment, his eyes filled with memories of pain. Then he lifted it and, with a cry of rage, hurled it against the wall with a deafening clatter, shattering the blue stones in the gauntlet and causing two of the iron fingers to break off.

"You killed it," said Jerret, nudging it with his toe.

"So much for the mighty Hand of Tharnin," said Dallsa, patting Vorden on the back. "Even though it was a cheap imitation, I'll bet that felt good."

Vorden nodded. "Very good."

Daledus lifted the broken gauntlet and frowned. "I don't know who was working this forge, but this definitely was not crafted by the Dwarves. Piece of junk." He dropped it and kicked it away.

Jace threw up his hands in frustration. "Wonderful, Vorden! You likely just alerted the entire fortress to our presence."

"Sorry," said Vorden. "I lost control. I warned you all what could happen to me in here. I also fear for you, Lannon. I hate to say it, but I'm growing increasingly worried that you too could lose yourself to darkness here."

"I'm fine," said Lannon. He felt very focused.

Vorden opened his mouth to say something, then closed it again and turned away--opting to let the conversation end.

Lannon scanned the room, searching for more clues. Aside from the tables, there were also two large iron furnaces and wooden barrels that typically held water for cooling weapons. One of the barrels had a rusty broadsword sticking out of it, indicating the forge had been abandoned in a hurry and hadn't been used in awhile--yet Lannon couldn't glimpse the reason for the abandonment.

Then a shocking realization invaded Lannon's mind. He sensed something huge might have been in the works here--a plan even Bellis might not have known of. He realized Tenneth Bard may have been preparing for another invasion of the Barloak Demons like the one that had nearly doomed the world in ancient times. It was just a brief glimpse but it shook Lannon to the core. He reported what he had seen to the others.

"If true," said Aldreya, "there must be a portal to Tharnin somewhere in this fortress. It will eventually have to be sealed."

"That is grim news," said Jace, "but not entirely unexpected. We knew all along what Tenneth Bard's goal is--to open the way for the Deep Shadow. Another invasion of the Barloaks makes perfect sense, but it would be no easy task to pull off. The Barloaks were so badly damaged by the Crimson Flamestone it is unlikely they would ever return to our world. They can be very stubborn. You know how demons are--petty and unyielding."

The forge had two exits--an iron door and a stairway that led down into darkness. Lannon examined the stairs and found them guarded by a trap of sorcery--a black cloud that would smother anyone who tried to go below.

"I believe I can shield myself from the trap," said Lannon. "However, I doubt I could protect anyone else. And I don't think any of us can break the spell. I would have to go alone."

"I don't think we should split up," said Vorden. "Obviously some extremely dangerous foe is lurking in this fortress, and it might take all of us to defeat it. We should see what's beyond the door first."

Lannon sent the Eye past the door--but found only another tunnel. The door itself was unlocked. "That route doesn't seem as well guarded," he said. "Therefore, I have to conclude it's less likely to lead to Prince Vannas."

Jace stood in silence for a moment, his eyes distant. "If I remember right, I believe I went past that door last time I was here. It led to a confusing maze of traps and unimportant locations. I suggest the stairs. Lannon can slip down there and perhaps rescue Prince Vannas without a fight."

"I like that plan," said Lannon, not wanting to put the others at risk. "And I can travel much more quickly alone."

"I don't like this," said Dallsa, pressing close to him. "What if you encounter the thing that captured our prince? Can you defeat it alone?"

"I don't know," said Lannon.

Aldreya paced about in thought, torch in hand, then said, "I suppose you should go below and do a quick search. We will wait for you here."

"Aldreya!" Dallsa groaned. "What are you doing? Lannon should not go down there alone. It's too dangerous."

"Not for a Dark Watchman," said Aldreya. "Dremlock recruited Lannon for missions where a single warrior is needed. It is the way of his kind to walk alone into great danger, to go places where others wouldn't dare."

"She's right, Dallsa," said Lannon. "This is what I do."

"Well, it's foolish!" Dallsa insisted.

"Let him go," said Daledus. "Lannon knows what he's doing."

Without another word, Lannon walked to the stairs and started down. Instantly, the black cloud of sorcery closed around him, seeking to cut off his breath. He pushed it back with the Eye and kept moving.

***

Jerret watched Lannon vanish below--beyond the light of Jace's torch. Lannon had gone into total darkness with only the Eye of Divinity to guide him. Being able to see in the dark was a huge advantage, yet Jerret found himself questioning their decision to split up. The party had just drastically weakened itself, gambling on Lannon's speed and skill. It was a significant gamble.

"Now I guess we wait," said Jerret, with a sigh. He sheathed his sword and folded his arms across his chest. "I hate waiting."

"I suspect it won't take long," said Jace. "With the Eye to guide him, Lannon should quickly locate the prince...or his body at least."

Lothrin glanced at Jace, then looked away.

"The prince is alive," said Dallsa. "I know it in my heart."

"Then you have better instincts than I do," said Jace, "because I'm not sure of anything. If Vannas still lives, it is only by some miracle of the White Flamestone. Our foe would have no reason to keep such a dangerous warrior alive. We aren't dealing with a fool here who captures his enemies for no good reason--only to watch them get rescued later. We're dealing with a genius of strategy who has fought and won many battles throughout the centuries. I'm certain of that."

"I trust the Divine Essence," said Aldreya.

"All well and good," said Jace, "but your god has little influence in this domain. Here, evil rules supreme."

Lothrin's eyes narrowed. "So you're saying we've wasted our time coming here, that my cousin is already dead."

"We haven't wasted our time," said Jace. "Far from it. We still have hope of regaining the White Flamestone. But sadly, the prince probably won't be around to use it." Jace bowed his head. "He will truly be missed."

Jerret wanted to disagree with Jace, but he couldn't. Vannas probably was dead and gone, and the White Flamestone was now heavily guarded somewhere in Wallrock Fortress. He could see by the look on Dallsa's face that she felt the same way. Aldreya, however, bore her usual stony expression.

"We can't give up hope," said Vorden, but he looked weary.

"Sometimes hope simply runs out," said Jace, with a big sigh. He tried to light his pipe but everything was too wet. "It seems my hope for a good smoke has run out as well. What, then, is left for us?"

"But it doesn't make sense," said Lothrin. "Why didn't this demon--or whatever it is--just kill Prince Vannas back near camp and be done with him quickly? Why did it lead him away for quite some distance before the trail vanished?"

Jace scratched his head, frowning. Then he grinned at Lothrin. "Ah, excellent observation, my fine Ranger. Excellent observation! I actually didn't think of that. Well, I've changed my mind, then. The prince is probably still alive. Now if only I could get my pipe lit. Can you lend me some Knightly fire?"

Lothrin sighed and walked away.

Aldreya dried Jace's tobacco with her sorcery. "Now you can't accuse me of being cold hearted simply because I no longer call you Uncle Jace."

Jace took a puff and grinned. "Of course I wouldn't do that. You're my favorite...Green Knight. I would pat you on the head like I used to--if I didn't think you would burn my hand off for the effort."

"And you need a waterproof tobacco pouch," she added. "There is no excuse for letting your leaf get wet--even that foul Norack leaf."

Jace held up the pouch. "It used to be waterproof, but I guess it has aged poorly over the fifty years I've had it. I suppose I'll be needing another one."

They fell silent for a time.

Finally Dallsa walked to the stairs and glanced down into the darkness. "Hurry back, Lannon," she whispered, her face tense with worry. She cocked her head to one side. "I hear noises down there, like battle!"

"Stay away from those stairs," said Aldreya. "They are dangerous. What you hear could be a trick of the dark sorcery to entice you below."

Reluctantly, Dallsa did as ordered.

"We will continue to wait," said Aldreya.

Jace yawned. "Anyone have anything interesting to talk about?"

"You're the wandering adventurer," said Aldreya. "And you're two-hundred years old. If anyone has anything interesting to say, surely it must be you." Her tone was somewhat sarcastic.

"Well, I don't," said Jace, yawning again. "I'm talked out."

"That's a first," said Aldreya.

Jace waved at her dismissively, then sat down and leaned his back against a barrel. "I suppose I will sleep for a while. Wake me when Lannon gets back...if he ever does." He bowed his head, eyes closed.

Dallsa glared at him. "How can you sleep right now?"

Her only answer was loud snoring.

***

After Lannon pushed his way through the sorcerous cloud and reached the bottom of the stairs, he stood facing a long hallway lined with stone coffins--a tomb for Olrog warriors who had died defending the fortress. The coffins were adorned with Dwarven runes that told of heroic deeds. Water had leaked down the walls and into cracks, giving rise to mold, and a musty stench hung in the air.

Perfect smell for a tomb, Lannon thought.

Lannon wasn't overly fond of Olrog tombs, and his gaze passed over his surroundings quickly. Nevertheless, the Eye gave him odd glimpses of things that haunted his mind. The Deep Shadow was like a serpent here--a monstrosity stretched along the hall, burrowing into the coffins and binding them all together. A haze of evil hung about the bones of the dead. It seemed evil lived to create a maze in which all things were snared and confused, and where evil was found, this labyrinth always existed. The Eye of Divinity traced the body of the serpent, seeking an end to it--but the head devoured the tail and created a loop of confusion. The maze was impenetrable to the light and that was why evil could hide itself so easily in the midst of honorable hearts. The serpent shifted endlessly, twisting about as it burrowed through the world, a leviathan of suffering.

Groaning, Lannon drew the Eye partially inside him. He hated seeing such things, for they were troubling and confusing--knowledge that seemed ultimately meaningless. Why did the Eye show him such strange sights? He felt he would never have an answer to that question.

As Lannon proceeded on, the tunnel seemed to grow even more ancient--the walls crumbling around him. The coffins were left behind--replaced by holes in the walls where the bones of the dead lay. Each hole contained an empty iron candle holder as well. Thick Dwarven skulls peered out at him from amongst rib bones and bits of tattered cloth. The musty stench was far worse here, making Lannon gag. These wall chambers were reserved for Priests of Tharnin who were forbidden to be placed in coffins after death. Their flesh had been removed from the skeletons and the skeletons laid within the chambers in blue robes. However, something had disrupted the bones over time and they were strewn about.

The Eye glimpsed deeper knowledge. The priests were not allowed coffins because they had considered that a sign of vanity. And they were entombed with no other possessions besides the plain blue robes for the same reason. They had left the world as they had entered it--with no material goods. In spite of serving a realm of evil, they had been utterly devout to the end.

As Lannon hurried down the long passageway, his mind kept roaming back to the dead priests and why they had so staunchly served an evil cause. They had obviously believed wholeheartedly in what they were doing, leading lives of endless toil and sacrifice for their dark god--even giving up everything they had before death to spend eternity with a monster. Granted, Graylius wasn't the worst of the Tharnin deities (he had turned his back on the Shadow Realm, but he was still a warlike beast that sought conquest). How had they become so misguided as to put such fervent efforts into something so wrong? The Eye couldn't answer that question, and neither could Lannon. It troubled him deeply.

Lannon sensed danger ahead, but he proceeded on anyway with sword in hand. Dark Watchman or not, moving through this moldy tomb of the ancient dead that was infested with evil sorcery was an unnerving experience for Lannon. He trusted his skills, but he was well aware that he wasn't invincible. He had come close to death multiple times since joining the ranks of Dremlock's Knights, and he knew that a situation could turn dire in an instant.

Moments later five Ghouls crawled out of the tomb holes and scurried up the walls, watching Lannon with their gleaming eyes. They were quiet as shadows as they crept about over the crumbling stone.

There was something shocking and horrific about the way they moved--extremely swift, sudden motions that reminded Lannon of scurrying insects. Yet it went beyond the natural world and spoke of true evil. These weren't simple, lumbering Goblins but intelligent creatures caught between life and death, their bodies animated with foul sorcery. They were puppets. Their enslavement was tragic and disgraceful, and only the sword could free them now.

Lannon waited patiently for the attack to come, but only one of the Ghouls leapt at him. It was an impressive leap--as the Ghoul shot from the wall as if it had exploded off the stony surface. But Lannon was ready, the Eye guiding his blade to match the unnatural speed of his foe. He skewered the Ghoul with his sword and shoved it against the wall. The monster hissed at him, clawing at the bony blade, fanged jaws opening and closing. Lannon withdrew his weapon and stepped back. As the Ghoul lunged at him, he beheaded it.

He glanced up--to find the other Ghouls scurrying away along the walls. Soon they were lost from view.

He let them escape and moved on. He suspected they would try to ambush him at some point, but his focus was on finding the prince.

Lannon was overcome with a strange sensation that he had experienced in the recent past--some kind of odd battle lust. He found himself eager for more combat, anxious to test his growing skills. A voice in his mind whispered that this fortress was a great place for him to prove himself. He wanted to kill the Barloak Demon--if that's what indeed his foe was--and conquer Wallrock Fortress. The thought of it sent a surge of energy through him.

Lannon didn't trust this feeling, as it was out of character for him. Typically he wanted to avoid combat and didn't care about making boasts or proving himself. Yet he couldn't deny how powerful it was. He felt like a truly dangerous warrior--one his foes should be terrified of. And he liked it.

Lannon paused, struggling with his thoughts. He told himself that he didn't want to turn into Jerret--a rampaging barbarian with bloodlust in his heart. Jerret was not the ideal Knight of Dremlock or servant of the Divine Essence, as he seemed to lack peacefulness and gentleness. Lannon told himself these things, but his heart still smoldered with the desire for combat. Ultimately he was forced to ignore the feeling and move on.

Soon Lannon found himself wandering a sprawling maze of tunnels, in which he saw many strange sights--such as dungeon cells packed full of human bones, gruesome torture chambers, and halls lined with incredibly lifelike Dwarven statues. He did not encounter the escaped Ghouls, and he was disappointed. He still hungered for combat, but there were no enemies to be found.

At last the strange feeling departed from Lannon and he returned to normal. He was left wondering if the curse of the Dark Watchmen had temporarily had him in its clutches, and he shuddered. Was this what the future held for him? For a moment he faltered, wondering if he should go on. He remembered Vorden's warning about the danger of losing himself in this fortress.

But then Lannon's thoughts focused on Taris Warhawk. The legendary sorcerer had great faith in Lannon and believed Lannon could overcome the curse of his predecessors. Lannon took comfort in that.

Soon Lannon located Prince Vannas' trail, and his excitement grew. Vannas had been alive very recently--though Lannon also sensed the presence of the immensely powerful creature. The trail was strong and easy to follow. The only question now was whether or not Lannon could avoid a fight.

***

In the forge, Dallsa kept pacing about.

"You should sit and rest," said Aldreya.

Everyone else had found places to sit.

"I can't rest," Dallsa replied. "Not with Lannon gone. And he has been gone a long time. I think we should search for him."

"Your feelings for Lannon are too strong," said Aldreya. "A Knight should not be so infatuated with another Knight. It is dangerous."

Dallsa's face reddened. "I'm well aware of that, Aldreya. And if you're going to lecture me on that topic, please do it in private. I know the Sacred Laws and I know where I stand. I'm allowed to care deeply for Lannon."

"Calm yourself," said Aldreya. "I never said you couldn't care about him. But your feelings are overcoming your judgment. You're a Divine Knight and on the Council of Ollanhar. You should behave accordingly."

"Actually, I'm still a Squire," said Dallsa.

Aldreya shook her head. "Not exactly. You're a Knight Appointed\--which means you're a Squire that has the authority of a Knight. That promotion was necessary for you to be on the Council, as Squires are not allowed."

"Fine," said Dallsa, "but I'm still not a fully recognized Knight. It will take time for me to change my behavior." Wringing her hands together, she paced around by the stairs. "What are we even talking about? Where is Lannon?"

"Actually," said Vorden, "Dallsa has a point. Where is Lannon? This is taking far too long. I think we should do some exploring below."

"How?" asked Aldreya. "Don't forget the stairs are guarded by dark sorcery that Lannon felt was too strong for us."

"But you're a sorcerer," said Jerret, as he chewed on some jerky. "Why can't you break the spell? Or is it too strong for you?"

Aldreya brushed her curly hair from her eyes, looking thoughtful. "Maybe I could break the spell. But maybe I shouldn't."

Jace woke up and looked around. "What are we discussing?"

"What about you, Jace?" asked Dallsa. "You're a sorcerer too. Why can't you rid the stairs of the dark sorcery?"

"Ah, there is a problem with that," said Jace. "I don't have any magic." With that, he bowed his head and started snoring again.

"A sorcerer with no magic?" said Dallsa. "How can that be?"

Jace raised his head again. "How many fireballs do you see me tossing around? How many have I ever summoned in my two centuries of life? I'll give you a hint: it's less than one. I may be known as a sorcerer, but I assure you I am quite incapable of breaking evil spells. Now, to contradict my earlier statement, I may possess just a bit of what you would call magic. Just a tiny bit, yes, in my blood. But not enough to deal with the fiendish darkness that haunts those stairs."

"Well, someone has to try," said Dallsa, "because I have a strong feeling that Lannon is in trouble. He needs us!"

"A strong feeling is not evidence," said Aldreya.

"Unless it's Birlote instinct, of course," said Jerret, rolling his eyes.

Aldreya didn't reply.

"We should have faith in Lannon," said Lothrin, "and give him more time. If we go blundering around down there, we could make things worse."

"He's had enough time," said Vorden. "Lannon is as swift as the wind, and he sees everything. He should have completed his mission by now."

"What is your opinion, Jace?" asked Aldreya.

"He can't hear you," said Jerret. "He's sleeping."

Jace glanced up. "Who's sleeping? Oh...it appears I was. No worries, I heard the question anyway." He yawned. "And the answer is: yes, we need more fireworks at the celebrations. And more cheese."

"You must have been dreaming," said Aldreya. "I actually want to know if we should go below and search for Lannon."

Jace leapt to his feet. "Of course we should! We can't leave Lannon to fend for himself against the demon. It's much too powerful. I know--because I ran into it the last time I was here. It took me prisoner and tortured me for three days before I managed to escape. It is a very cunning foe--though I should call it a he, since all Barloak Demons are considered males. Don't ask me to explain, as I haven't the time. Anyway, Lannon must have been snared, or he would have returned by now. This is very, very bad. We must go below at once!"

"So you've known about the demon?" said Aldreya. "Why didn't you mention it before?"

"I did," said Jace. He scratched his head. "Didn't I? I'm still very tired."

"You heard him, Aldreya," said Dallsa. "Now let's go."

Aldreya rose and went to the stairs. "I am reluctant to do this, as I could spring the trap on all of us. If the darkness takes me, I suggest the rest of you flee. Don't try to rescue me. That's an order."

"We wouldn't dream of it," said Jerret, with a wry smile.

"Thanks," she muttered, glaring at him.

The others gathered on the other side of the chamber, as Aldreya hurled several blazing fireballs down the steps. She hesitated, peering below, and then launched a few more. Weary from expending so much energy, she rested for a moment, breathing heavily from the strain.

"I think I did it," she called out. "The dark sorcery has retreated or been burned away. The stairs are clear. But let's wait a bit."

They waited, but the stairs remained free of the curse.

"I guess Lannon was wrong," she said. "I broke the spell. And it was easier than I had anticipated."

"I'll go first," said Jace, "to light the way." The sorcerer strode to the stairs and started down carelessly, waving his Birlote torch around. He glanced back. "Come along now."

The others followed.

When they were about halfway down, a dark fog suddenly arose from the depths and surrounded them. Parts of the fog squirmed and wiggled like fingers reaching for the fools who had thought it was defeated.

"The spell remains!" Aldreya cried. "Flee!"

They ran back up the stairs, and all of them made it except Jace. The fog engulfed the huge sorcerer--his eyes wide with horror--until only his torch was visible. Then the torch clattered to the steps.

The others groaned in frustration.

"Hurl your fire at it," said Lothrin.

"I dare not," said Aldreya, "for I could burn Jace to ash."

"But he will be smothered!" said Dallsa.

A feeling of coldness in the air caused them to whirl around. The chamber door stood open, and a white mist had flooded the forge. As they watched, a ghastly figure walked toward them, flanked by eight Ghouls. It possessed the shape of a male human, but it was at least nine-feet tall--a lean figure with bone-white flesh, a bald head, and pointed ears. He was dressed only in a golden, scaly, metallic loincloth, though the mist seemed to wrap around him like a cloak. His hands ended in long white claws. He gazed at the intruders with icy blue eyes. That image was there for an instant, and then he blended with the fog that swirled around him and shifting shadows that crept over his body.

Dallsa gasped and shrank back from an aura that was like poison to her soul. The others simply stood and stared, too overwhelmed to react. When they realized their mistake, it was too late--as the white mist wound around them like chains, binding them fast. Not even Aldreya could escape these chains of sorcery that held them in such a powerful grasp they couldn't even speak.

All they could see was white fog and shifting shadows--and icy blue eyes that cut through the mist and gazed upon them. They could not have anticipated the true power of this Barloak Demon--the mighty snares it could cast at will that had doomed so many Divine Knights in the past. They were just five more victims to the demon. Five fools who were defeated without a fight.

***

Lannon followed the trail through several more tunnels and chambers before encountering a locked iron door with a laughing Olrog face sculpted at the center of it. The door gave him immense trouble. He tried every technique he knew to get it open, but it wouldn't budge. Because Prince Vannas' trail passed beyond the door, Lannon had no choice but to keep trying.

The laughing Dwarf seemed to mock Lannon, making him increasingly angry. Yet the more he struggled against the door, the more exhausted he became and the weaker his attempts were. The key to the lock was dark sorcery, and Lannon's magic was just the opposite. At last he slumped down and rested for a while, letting his strength recuperate.

Once rested, he wandered back along the tunnel, looking for anything that would assist him. In a storage room he found a large iron anvil. He carried it to the door and hesitated. Stealth and surprise were great assets, but he was about to make enough noise to wake the dead (if they weren't already awake).

Yet Lannon felt he had no other options. The door's lock was simply too well-crafted by the Dwarves for him to manipulate. Nothing would work on it except dark sorcery or brute force.

With a grunt, Lannon hurled the anvil against the door with all the power the Eye could lend him. The heavy piece of iron bounced off and Lannon had to leap over it to avoid a couple of shattered legs. It had left a tiny dent.

Losing himself to frustration, Lannon lifted the anvil again and slammed it right into the laughing face--smashing it in. He heard a cracking noise at the edges of the door. Again and again he drove the iron object into the door, until at last he smashed it out of its frame and it fell to the stone floor with a deafening clatter. Lannon drew his sword and leaned against the wall, chest heaving.

He rested for a while, then moved on. He soon entered a magnificent hallway with huge, rusty weapons lining the walls. These weapons seemed built for Thallite Giants or Ogres, but the Eye revealed they were actually for the Barloak Demons themselves. There were battle axes, broadswords, spears, maces, and hammers. There were also helms, shields, and breastplates. These were crude and simple weapons, not designed to look fancy but simply to kill and terrorize. They were appropriately ugly--especially now that the centuries had left them thoroughly rusted.

Beyond that hall some wide steps led down to a large dining chamber full of chairs and oak tables, and it was here that Lannon found not only Prince Vannas, but his other companions as well. The prince stood in a corner, unshackled as far as Lannon could see. But there seemed to be something wrong with him. He held the White Flamestone in his cupped hands, and its pale glow filled the chamber. His gaze was locked onto the gem--his eyes blazing with intensity--and he was standing as still as a statue. He seemed frozen in some emotional moment.

The others--with the exception of Jace, who was nowhere to be seen--stood on the opposite side of the room, their bodies held motionless by a pale mist twisted about them. They were as frozen as Prince Vannas.

Cautiously, Lannon walked between the tables. The Dining Room was filled with fog. He sensed the demon was in here and concealed by the mist. The evil sorcery confused the Eye of Divinity, and the demon seemed everywhere.

On some of the tables were the remains of a feast--including large animal bones, some with meat still clinging to them. On one table lay a large, half-eaten pig, its blackened flesh reeking of spices. There were wine goblets as well, and the wine within them looked like blood. The smell of incense and wax was strong in the air, as atop each table burned incense stalks in vases and tall, red candles. A huge stone fireplace held burning logs, yet the room still felt cold.

Lannon went to Vannas first and shook him, but the prince would not respond. He was hopelessly lost in some trance, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Lannon tried to remove the White Flamestone from his hands--hoping it would awaken him--but he couldn't budge it. The prince was engulfed in a thin shield of pale fire that Lannon was unable to breach. He was an immovable object that seemingly nothing could harm or affect in any way.

Lannon tried to free the others, but the Eye was unable to pull apart their sorcerous chains. Lannon sensed that brute force wouldn't work this time, and he paused to contemplate the situation.

A noise reached his ears from behind and he whirled around. A wine goblet had tipped over, spilling crimson liquid. A bloated rat was creeping across the table in search of meat. It grabbed a bone with a bit of ragged flesh on it and fled.

Nearby, the mist suddenly came to life--and a towering figure leapt toward Lannon, long white claws tearing at his face.

### Chapter 17:

The Defenders of Ollanhar

Three days had passed since the Gauntlet of Axes--three days of Faindan celebrating in the tavern and being praised by his fellow Knights. Now the mood had turned grim, and Faindan was summoned to a meeting in Ollanhar's Courtyard on a bright, sunny afternoon.

As Faindan stood looking about, he realized this could only mean one thing: bloodshed was imminent. Gathered in the clearing was an army of Divine Knights. Furlus was there with forty Red Knights, and Lort Greyshield and his twenty Brown Knights with their spiked shields. Also present were the Nine Axes, and Fadar Stonebow and eight elite archers.

Furlus got right to the point. "The time has come to protect this tower," he said, speaking loudly so everyone could hear. "With the Council of Ollanhar absent, we knew there was a good chance we would be attacked. Our enemies think we're weak without the White Flamestone to protect us. They think they can wrest the tower from our grasp!" Furlus' eyes blazed as he talked.

The crowd watched him silence.

"Even as I speak," Furlus went on, "Tenneth Bard, our ancient enemy, is leading an army of Goblins and Blood Legion warriors in our direction. I am certain he is secretly in league with King Verlamer. This is an attempt to thwart Dremlock's expansion, and they will show us no mercy."

Faindan glanced down at the stump where his hand used to be. So this was a fight to the death. He had survived the Gauntlet of Axes--had even emerged fully intact--but now he was faced with a different kind of gauntlet, one where crazed Goblins and bloodthirsty barbarians would swarm on him and his fellow Knights with the intent of killing them to the last fighter. Any survivors would likely be tortured and executed. And apparently these were all the Knights that Dremlock could spare.

"And there is more grim news," said Furlus. "Tenneth Bard wears the Hand of Tharnin--the gauntlet that caused us so much misery in the past. That means his strength will be greater than ever. Riding at his side is a powerful Legion Knight named Almdrax, who recently returned from the realm of Tharnin. They lead at least one-hundred fighters, including some kind of huge Centipede fitted with armor plating."

"I don't understand," said one of the Brown Knights. "How can we win against the Hand of Tharnin without the White Flamestone?"

"Good question," Furlus grunted. "I'll get to that in a moment, as I reveal our battle plan. Fadar and his archers will shoot from the tower windows. Meanwhile, six Brown Knights will work our siege engine." Furlus motioned toward the large crossbow on wheels. "With the Dragon Claw on our side, we should be able to take out the Centipede before it does too much damage. The Red Knights will hurl burning lances into our enemies' ranks, and then we will close in."

"What about Tenneth Bard?" asked Faindan.

"Leave him to me," said Furlus, "and the Nine Axes. We will attempt to surround the Black Knight and overwhelm him. We will have to move quickly on horseback before he can use the Hand of Tharnin against us."

"Can I ride with you?" asked Faindan. "I am an honorary member of the Nine Axes, after all. I want to go against Tenneth Bard." He spoke courageously, but inside he was afraid.

"Let him ride with us, Furlus," said Valedos Firehelm.

Furlus nodded. "Very well. But it could be a suicide mission considering the foe we will be facing. Still want in?"

"Of course," said Faindan, without hesitation.

"That brings something to mind," said Furlus. "I want to congratulate Faindan for making it through the Gauntlet of Axes. Few Noracks have ever matched that feat. I believe Valedos has something for you, Faindan."

Valedos stepped forward. "I offer you this Glaetherin shield. It is been modified for your missing hand. Give it a try."

The Dwarf handed Faindan a small round shield that gleamed in the sun. Faindan bowed and accepted the gift.

"The shield is actually a gift from Furlus," said Valedos, "but he felt I should be the one to present it to you. Guard it well."

Faindan found the shield to be a comfortable fit. It locked into place securely on his forearm. He couldn't believe his good fortune--ever since losing his hand. How had it all come about? And why?

The Knights raised banners and cheered, vowing to defend Ollanhar to the death. They took their battle positions and waited.

An hour passed, and a lone cloud blocked out the sun, casting a shadow across the courtyard. Moments later a spy rode into the clearing and gave a final report: Tenneth Bard and his army had entered the oak grove. In moments they would reach the clearing and the bloodshed would begin.

***

First came the Goblins, as usual, swarming into the clearing like angry bees. Faindan sat in the saddle with his heart pounding, waiting for the chaos to begin and wondering if death would find him on this day.

In the midst of the Goblins was the Centipede, a crimson beast twice as large as a horse, its spiked armor gleaming in the sunlight as it scurried along. It moved with immense speed in spite of its bulk, its jaws glistening with deadly venom. The sections of bony plates of the Centipede's body made clacking noises as it ran forward eagerly, driven to madness by dark sorcery and craving human flesh. Behind the slew of Goblins rode Tenneth Bard and Almdrax, along with twenty Blood Legion warriors.

Faindan glanced at Furlus, waiting for the signal to proceed, but Furlus was busy shouting orders at his warriors.

A volley of arrows from Fadar Stonebow and his archers flew from the tower windows, taking down several Goblins. Next came burning lances from the Red Knights, which slew several more Goblins.

Meanwhile, the Brown Knights--with Furlus bellowing commands at them--took aim at the Centipede with the mighty crossbow and fired all ten spears. And somehow they missed, with two of the spears piercing the ground on either side of the scurrying monster.

"Blast it all!" Furlus growled in dismay.

Then the two armies met, and the Dragon Claw no longer had a clear shot and Furlus ordered it abandoned. Blazing swords hacked at drooling, leaping Goblins, and black smoke rose into the air from smoldering fur and flesh. The spiked shields of the Brown Knights tore vicious wounds in their foes.

The Centipede bit an attacking Red Knight in two, its jaws expanding around the unlucky fellow and then crunching through his steel armor with ease. This caused shock and dismay amongst the other Knights.

But the Centipede was only getting started. After crushing a Knight to death with its weight, it spit acid onto a group of Brown Knights, causing severe burns that took three of them out of the fight. Swords, axes, arrows, and spiked shields glanced off the Centipede's armor and the hard shell of its body.

Faindan couldn't believe what he was seeing. The size and power of the Centipede was very intimidating. The beast almost seemed invincible as it twisted about searching for new victims. Faindan wondered how Tenneth Bard had conjured up this monster and was controlling it--and he suspected the Hand of Tharnin had something to do with it. The gauntlet was known for its ability to control the mighty beasts of Tharnin that otherwise were uncontrollable.

Furlus gave the signal, and Faindan and the Nine Axes rode forward, cutting a path through their foes. Faindan steadied his nerves and summoned fire into his sword, even as a Jackal leapt toward him. He smashed the beast aside with his shield, and Valedos cut it down with his axe.

Tenneth Bard saw their advance and rode forward eagerly to meet them on his Goblin steed, his black cloak billowing. His twin swords were sheathed, but he held up the Hand of Tharnin as he rode, the pair of blue stones in the gauntlet shining brightly with evil energy. As before, his face was concealed by shadow beneath his hood, but his aura was unmistakable. This was the Black Knight who had lived for centuries and was determined to see Dremlock Kingdom fall and the Deep Shadow spread throughout the world.

Tenneth Bard pointed the gauntlet at Furlus and a fireball shot toward the Dwarf. Furlus batted it aside with his axe, but he was thrown off balance and fell from the saddle. An instant later several Goblins swarmed on him.

Furlus rose, hacking at his foes with Dwarven fury, momentarily distracted. A mighty Wolf rose up on two legs beside him and he cut the beast in two. Foul Goblin blood dripped from his beard as he cleaved into his foes.

One of the Nine Axes leapt from the saddle at Tenneth Bard, axe raised high in the air. It was a quick, agile leap that looked as if it would catch the Black Knight off guard. But Tenneth Bard caught him by the throat with the Hand of Tharnin and shook him viciously while crushing the life from him. Laughing, the Black Knight hurled the dead body aside.

His face twisted with rage, Valedos Firehelm swung at Tenneth Bard's neck, but Tenneth Bard deflected the axe with his gauntlet. The Black Knight drew one of his gleaming, curved swords and shoved it against Valedos' chest. The sword failed to penetrate the Glaetherin armor, but the force of the thrust knocked Valedos off his horse--sending him head over heels from the saddle.

Tenneth Bard turned and shot a fireball at another of the Nine Axes. It struck the Dwarf's chest and burned right through his steel armor that was reinforced with veins of Glaetherin. The Glaetherin strands remained intact--but gaping holes were burned through the steel and the flesh was destroyed beneath. The Knight gazed down in shock at his smoking chest, and then he toppled dead from his horse.

Tenneth Bard bellowed laughter.

Almdrax slew a Brown Knight that tried to attack Tenneth Bard from behind. The huge Blood Legion warrior, who was protected by dark plate armor and a horned helm, drove his smoldering battle axe into the Brown Knight's spiked shield--splitting it in two and then cleaving through armor, flesh, and bone. Almdrax's eyes glowed yellow beneath his helm, his bearded face bearing a sadistic grin as he watched the dead Knight tumble to the ground.

Horrified by what he was witnessing, Faindan tried to ride close to Tenneth Bard for an attack--but Goblins kept getting in his way.

High up in a tower window, Fadar Stonebow took aim at the Centipede and waited. While the others continued to release arrows, the legendary archer sought a perfect shot. It was extremely difficult to wait and watch the carnage, but he held position like a statue, his bow bent to the maximum.

His arrow burned golden with the Sacred Fire--a power that Tree Dwellers were typically forbidden by law to wield outside of Borenthia. Yet Fadar alone had been recently granted permission by the Birlotes to ignore that law (thanks to some lengthy negotiations involving Aldreya and Prince Vannas). It was an immense honor. He was supposed to use it only to defend Dremlock, but he reasoned that because Ollanhar was a distant part of the Divine Kingdom its use here was justified.

And then Fadar saw his opportunity, as the Centipede's jaws opened wide for a kill. He released the burning arrow--and watched it fly straight into the Centipede's mouth. The golden fire burned ever hotter, and black smoke poured from the monster's jaws. The Centipede went berserk, thrashing around and sending warriors leaping and tumbling to avoid it.

In its fit of madness, the Centipede rolled onto its back to expose its more vulnerable underbelly, and the Divine Knights fell on it with their blazing weapons, piercing deep into its body. Soon it shuddered and went still.

The Knights cheered.

But Faindan Stillsword was only vaguely aware of the battle around him. All he knew was the real threat--Tenneth Bard--was still seated arrogantly in the saddle, shooting fireballs at Divine Knights and doing immense damage. Meanwhile, Goblins and Legion warriors blocked anyone trying to get to him.

Faindan swung his sword at a Jackal and missed--nearly falling from the saddle in the process. Valedos cut down the Jackal, but then a leaping Wolf nearly took Faindan from his perch. He managed to barely duck it as it flew over him, the Wolf's claws raking the top of his head and drawing blood.

A battle-scarred Legion Soldier--hooting strangely like an owl--tried to ram Faindan in the gut with a spear, but Faindan blocked with his shield and then kicked the spear upward, smashing the hooting warrior in the nose. Clutching his bleeding nose, the warrior stopped hooting and ran away with a horrified look on his face, as if he had suddenly lost the will to fight.

Must have embarrassed him, Faindan thought. Weird.

After being momentarily lost in a sea of chaos, Faindan found himself right next to Tenneth Bard. The Black Knight was looking in another direction, and Faindan had an easy opportunity to attack. He was about to swing when he realized his blade held no fire. He had let it falter in the confusion of battle.

Focusing his mind, Faindan called fire into the sword--making it burn as hot as he possibly could. Once again he remembered the image of Kuran Darkender that had appeared to him in the moat, and then he heard cries around him from the Divine Knights: "Behold, the White Fire!"

Faindan looked around, thinking Prince Vannas had returned with his Flamestone, but then he realized the White Fire was in his blade. He gazed at the pale flames that engulfed the weapon in surprise, and then he lashed out at Tenneth Bard just as the Black Knight turned in his direction.

Tenneth Bard raised the Hand of Tharnin, and there was an explosion of white sparks as the blade connected with the gauntlet. Both Faindan and Tenneth Bard were flung from their horses--and both quickly leapt up from the ground.

But only Tenneth Bard was wounded--his hood thrown back to reveal severe burns on his face that had destroyed one eye. He clutched his face in agony, as his Goblin steed ran to him. With defenders closing in front of him, the Black Knight climbed into the saddle, directed a last gaze at Faindan that could have meant anything, and then rode off toward the woods.

His yellow eyes wide, Almdrax ordered a retreat. But he was surrounded by Brown Knights with spiked shields--led by Lort--who closed off his escape routes like a circular wall. Facing death or surrender, Almdrax threw down his battle axe in disgust and knelt in the dirt.

Some of the Legion fighters fled into the forest, and some surrendered. But the Goblins fought on to the death.

Furlus climbed onto his horse. "I need twenty Knights! We will hunt down Tenneth Bard and put an end to him while he is weak!"

Valedos and the remaining members of the Nine Axes joined him, along with Lort and some of his Brown Knights. Some Red Knights also joined the search party, lances in hand to deliver the finishing blow.

But when Faindan tried to join, Furlus waved him back. "You have done enough, young Knight. You struck a stout blow to Tenneth Bard that will never be forgotten. Stay here and help secure the prisoners."

Faindan bowed, his confusion growing by the moment.

### Chapter 18:

The Cursed Warrior

Lannon dodged the claws and struck back with his blade--only to encounter empty air. The fog swirled around him, obscuring his vision and even confusing the Eye. He thought he glimpsed a hulking form coming toward him and again he attacked--and again there was nothing.

"You're a coward," Lannon called out. "Why don't you show yourself and battle me fairly? Let us fight an honorable duel."

His answer was a claw from the fog that raked his shoulder, tearing through his cloak and drawing blood. Dark sorcery tried to seep into his body through the wound--sorcery that wanted to poison his will and bring him to his knees--but Lannon seized it with the Eye and destroyed it. However, the wound itself was fairly deep, and blood soaked his cloak. He shielded himself with his power.

Lannon grabbed a heavy oak chair and flung it at a moving shadow. The chair struck something and a loud hiss arose. There was a cracking noise and pieces of splintered wood flew past Lannon.

"Show yourself, coward," Lannon insisted. "If you won't fight me in a fair duel, you waste my time." Lannon flung several more chairs--two of them making contact with the demon.

Another claw attack came from the mist--this one raking across Lannon's face. But the Eye protected him and no damage was done. This time, while retaliating, Lannon cut into flesh--a shallow wound.

Again the demon hissed at him, and the fog thickened.

Lannon was seized from behind, long arms locking around his chest. The demon squeezed him viciously, with strength many times that of a human. The shield generated by the Eye was tested to its limits against this crushing force, but it gave Lannon enough time to twist out of the demon's hold. He whirled around and thrust his sword out--to find empty space.

"You're pathetic," Lannon called out, continuing to insult his foe. "Is that the best you can do against a Divine Knight?"

For a moment there was silence, as the mist continued to swirl throughout the Dining Room. Then an inhuman voice whispered back, "You wish to duel, Dark Watchman? I have no time for such childish games. So the Bearer of the Eye cannot see though my unfair tricks. You are still quite young and have not reached your full potential. You should not have come here."

"Are we going to fight, or waste time talking?" asked Lannon. Actually, wasting a bit of time didn't bother Lannon, for it gave him a chance to try to figure out how to see through the fog. He was waging a furious battle against the confusion, willing the Eye to pierce the haze of evil sorcery.

"My name is Lord Hathannis," came the whisper. "You should address me properly when in my fortress."

"So what is your answer?" asked Lannon.

"Take a rest," said Lord Hathannis. "Sit down, if you can find a chair you haven't broken. Would you care for some meat, or some wine? It is all very delicious. My cook does a wonderful job preparing the meat for me. And the wine is made from the blood of cursed rats. We call them Mud Rats, because mud is where they like to dwell in the marshes of Silverland. They often bear a most peculiar disease that makes their blood truly delicious. Don't shun it until you try it."

"I won't eat your food," said Lannon, "or drink your foul wine. I refuse to dine with the enemies of the Divine Essence."

"You don't like me," said the demon, "obviously. You have judged me already. You wish the Crimson Flamestone had burned me to ash so long ago--like it did to so many of my kind." Lord Hathannis sighed. "I didn't survive because I was the strongest, the fastest, the bravest, or even the luckiest. I survived the Great War because I was the smartest. Or, at least, one of the smartest. You may hate me, Lannon, but at least respect me for my accomplishments."

"I can never respect you," said Lannon. "You're an abomination to all life, and by the Sacred Laws, I have the right to slay you at will."

"Yes," said the inhuman hiss, "you have the right to assassinate me by Dremlock Law. Many of your kingdom's Knights have tried to do just that. They perished in extreme misery, however. Let me just say that I discovered, through experimentation, methods of tormenting my foes that are so brutal they are disturbing even for me to contemplate. And I have a high tolerance for evil."

"Why would you do that to anyone?" asked Lannon, overwhelmed with disgust.

"To set an example for Dremlock," said Lord Hathannis. "A warning that no more assassins should be sent. And guess what, young Knight--it worked exactly as planned. Dremlock eventually became so disheartened after learning what had become of its Knights that no more were sent. I was able to rest easy knowing I was no longer a constant target. Again, it comes down to intelligence. That is why I am alive and well."

"Yet you remain a miserable creature," said Lannon. "Your life is not worth living, for all you do is make others suffer. What else do you do in this ugly fortress? You enslave the dead and spread misery, it seems."

"Misery in your world, Dark Watchman," said Lord Hathannis. "Not mine. My world is the realm of Tharnin, where I once lived like a king. But that's not all I do. I spend a lot of time sleeping, actually. If you want to know what else I do here, you'll have to exchange information with me. Tell me why you are in the Soddurn Mountains and why warriors from Bellis are following you."

Lannon hesitated, wondering if he should agree to the exchange. He wanted to know what the demon's plans were, and since Bellis already knew that Dremlock was seeking the Green Flamestone, telling the demon didn't seem to matter.

Lannon told his story.

When he was finished, the demon laughed. "Your quest was a waste of time. The Green Flamestone was actually lost centuries ago. The one on Scalmfort Island is a fake, placed there to lead people to their doom."

"I don't believe you," said Lannon, though he wasn't sure.

"I don't care what you believe," said the demon. "But I speak the truth."

"So what about your story?" asked Lannon.

"I'm guessing you figured most of it out already," said the demon. "I have been the true enemy of Dremlock. I am the real commander of the Blood Legion. And yes, I am in league with Bellis...to a point. I have been ordering attacks on Dremlock for centuries, along with my servant Tenneth Bard. Many of the Goblins that cause you so much trouble come from here. We breed special Goblins in Wallrock Fortress--stronger, faster, and smarter ones--and this is just the beginning. But I've talked enough, and we have done our little exchange. I am not satisfied with it, however. I feel cheated. It is time for your death."

"Answer one more question," said Lannon. "What exactly are you, Lord Hathannis? What is a Barloak Demon?" Lannon was hoping his foe would reveal a weakness, though he thought it unlikely.

"Can't you see for yourself," said Lord Hathannis, "with the Eye of Divinity? So, you can't even catch a glimpse of me!"

Lannon didn't answer, realizing his question had been foolish.

"Didn't you have history lessons at Dremlock?" asked the demon. "Or don't they teach Knights about the past anymore?"

"That subject was never discussed," said Lannon. "I don't know why." Much about the ancient war involving the Barloaks had never been revealed during his lessons, and books on the subject were scarce in the kingdom libraries--and the few that dealt with the topic only gave brief mention.

"Very well," said Lord Hathannis. "You should at least know who you're fighting. I am an Elder Demon from Tharnin. A spirit creature bound into a body--in this case, the body of a dead Ogre. The process of my creation makes me immune to the force of living things in your world, which is why I can remain here even though it is not my original home. All Barloak Demons are wild spirits bound into flesh."

"Tell me more about your plans," said Lannon.

"I've told you enough," came an angry hiss. "I have your friends as my prisoners, and they are all I need to bargain with the prince. You are useless to me. It will be a great accomplishment to slay a Dark Watchman."

The fog slipped away into the corners and vanished. Standing before Lannon was the Barloak Demon in the flesh--a nine-foot-tall giant. His bone-white skin, bald head, and pointed ears were features Lannon had not been expecting. The demon resembled a human in some ways, and a monster in others. His mouth was filled with pointed teeth, and there were patches of scales on his flesh that matched the metallic, golden scales of his loincloth. A shallow wound in his side--where Lannon's sword had pierced--was leaking black blood.

"Here I am, Lannon," the demon hissed. "Fight me!"

As Lannon gazed at the pale giant, he was repulsed to the core. This was a monster that had lived in Lannon's world for thousands of years and had inflicted suffering and death on countless victims--a creature that had originally participated in a war to destroy all life and open the way for the Deep Shadow.

Lannon focused his attack and then leapt forward, thrusting his sword at the demon's heart. But the demon seized the blade with his clawed hand and tried to yank it viciously from Lannon's grasp. However, Lannon was prepared for that trick and his firm grip on the sword did not yield. He pulled it free of the demon's hand and stepped back.

Once again mist swirled around Lord Hathannis, until only the icy blue eyes were visible. "Almost had you, little man. Soon..."

The Eye finally revealed a moving shadow to Lannon that he assumed was the demon, and he attacked it. His sword was seized again, and he struggled for possession of the blade. Lannon got so caught up in the struggle that he let his guard down--and a clawed hand shot from the mist and struck his chest, knocking him to the floor. He kept his grip on the sword, but the stout blow had taken the fight out of him for the moment, as he lay winded and in pain.

Then the demon was standing over him, grinning. "See, you were too young and inexperienced to defeat me." With that, he grabbed Lannon's neck with both hands and choked him furiously. Lannon fought to break the demon's hold--but he seemed to be losing ground.

Lannon finally managed to rip one of the clawed hands away from his throat. Then the demon howled in pain and staggered away, clutching the back of his head, his blue eyes rolled back. Standing behind Lord Hathannis was Jace, who was rubbing his knuckles.

"Finish him, Lannon!" Jace yelled.

Lannon rose, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and locked onto Lord Hathannis' head with the Eye. The demon turned, and Lannon hurled his sword--driving it through the demon's thick skull.

Lord Hathannis fell to his knees, clutching at the sword. Then he toppled over and lay still in death, his mouth gaped open and leaking blood.

Lannon retrieved his sword and stood over the demon's corpse, a great sigh of relief escaping his lips.

***

"Well done," said Jace, patting Lannon on the shoulder. "You just slew a Barloak Demon, young man--no small accomplishment. And while this one wasn't as strong as I had assumed--brains over brawn, I suppose--only a Dark Watchman could have done this. Make no mistake, this is your greatest accomplishment, and it is a tremendous victory for Dremlock and Ollanhar."

"I had some help," said Lannon. "A lot of help."

"Think nothing of it," said Jace, smiling. "You delivered the killing blow, and that's what history will remember."

" Yet I just gave Tenneth Bard a promotion," said Lannon. He should have felt better about the victory than he did. Something was bothering his instincts, but he wasn't sure what.

Jace's smile vanished. "Yes...well... Let us not concern ourselves with that right now. We have some companions to free, and the prince..." Jace shook his head. "The prince seems to be a bit out of it."

"How did you survive?" asked Lannon (though he wondered why he was bothering to ask, since he already knew he would only get a vague answer). "I thought that trap had doomed you."

Jace scratched his head, frowning. "I suppose I simply...slipped out of its clutches and ran. I can be fairly slippery when I need to be. I actually can dislocate my shoulders if necessary. Anyway, I worked my way loose and that's the story. It took me awhile to figure out where to go afterward, but I showed up at a good time, obviously. Actually, I had been hiding behind a table and watching the battle for a bit, waiting for just such an opportunity. Lord Hathannis thought he was so brilliant, but he made a huge blunder in assuming that all of us were captured or killed. It's hard to believe that after all these centuries he is dead. I can't help but feel overjoyed. This calls for a smoke."

"Let's free the others," said Lannon. But before he went to them, he turned the Eye toward the demon's body in order to satisfy whatever inner voice was still nagging him. A shock tore through him--for he glimpsed life.

"He's still alive!" Lannon warned.

The fog swarmed over Lord Hathannis as he rose from the floor. The wound in the pale giant's forehead had sealed shut. "How can you slay a creature that is already dead?" the demon asked Lannon.

The Dark Watchman had no answer.

With the fog having engulfed the demon, only his icy blue eyes were visible. "Only a true Dark Watchman could have destroyed me," he went on. "Not a mere lad who pretends to be something he isn't."

"You're making a big mistake," said Lannon. "You should have kept pretending I had finished you and stayed down. The Eye is only growing stronger, and I will find your weakness." Lannon meant what he said. Once again the strange battle lust had overcome him, making his confidence soar, but he had no time to deal with that issue. "Jace, go and stand by the others. I will end this myself."

"Who am I to argue?" said Jace. But he hesitated.

"It is time for something new," said the demon. "I wanted to kill you myself, but you are a bit stronger than I had anticipated. Yet I have another trick up my sleeve--a snare that is perfect for a young, naive warrior like you. I will reveal to you my greatest strength and what has made me so feared throughout the ages."

"I don't like the sound of this at all," said Jace, his eyes wide. His pipe slipped from his fingers to the floor. Then he flung himself at the demon, swinging his fist. But his attack found only fog.

Lannon realized something was trying to invade his head--something that felt like a hand seeking to crush his mind. He summoned the Eye to him, trying to fight off the evil sorcery, but the grip kept tightening.

"My deepest apologies, young man," came the demon's hiss. "This is not a very honorable thing I am doing here, but I really have no urge to continue fighting you. Too risky. This is just something that must be done."

Horrified, Lannon called upon everything he had in an effort to break free--and he almost succeeded. For a moment the invading, invisible hand was pushed away, but then it returned even stronger, breaking through his defenses and squeezing Lannon's mind so viciously that pain exploded in his skull.

I'm going to die, Lannon thought numbly.

But he didn't die. Instead, he found himself unable to move or even think anything but limited thoughts. He stood there waiting to be commanded--a puppet living only to serve his master. Somewhere deep inside he felt despair over this enslavement, but he was powerless to change it.

"Good," said the demon. "You are mine now, Lannon Sunshield. This is going to be incredibly amusing. Unfortunate for you that your prince is lost in a trance and cannot help you with his little Flamestone. I'll deal with him later, after you have done my work and slain yourself."

Lannon heard the words and understood them, but he didn't care. He would do whatever his master commanded.

"Kill the sorcerer first," said Lord Hathannis. A clawed finger emerged from the fog to point at Jace. "Kill him quickly, Lannon."

Lannon raised his sword and moved toward Jace.

"Wait!" Jace said, raising his hands. "Free your mind, Lannon. Remember your training as a Divine Knight? Remember the Eye?"

Lannon paused, wondering what Jace was talking about. He remembered his training and the Eye perfectly well. Jace was a dangerous foe, but Lannon was certain he could dispatch him. Jace was quite strong, but surely he was too slow to defend against Lannon.

"You are a Divine Knight," Jace reminded him. "You only fight with honor, and you must obey the Sacred Laws. Think, Lannon!"

Lannon pondered Jace's words.

"Finish him now," Lord Hathannis ordered, interrupting Lannon's thoughts. "The sorcerer is only trying to confuse you, Lannon."

Lannon darted in and took a swing at Jace's neck. Somehow the sorcerer ducked and got behind Lannon, nearly catching the Dark Watchman in the head with a blow from his fist. The fist grazed Lannon's hair.

Lannon whirled around and stuck Jace in the forehead with the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the floor. Lannon moved in for the kill.

Groaning, Jace tried to rise, but Lannon kicked him in the chest and knocked him down again. Lannon stood over the sorcerer, sword raised for a downward thrust that would pierce Jace's heart

Jace raised his arm to ward off the attack. "Enough, Lannon. I surrender. The Sacred Laws forbid you to kill me."

Lannon hesitated, not quite remembering the Sacred Laws. Was he supposed to spare Jace's life?

"My law is all that matters," said Lord Hathannis. "You simply must do as I command, Lannon. Now pierce his heart."

While Lannon was hesitating, Jace snagged Lannon's legs with his own and tripped him viciously. Lannon fell hard to the floor and struck his head.

"Sorry, my friend," Jace mumbled.

"This is tiresome," said the demon. "You're making a fool of yourself, Lannon. Get up and kill him, or I will do it myself."

Lannon rose, blood dripping from his forehead, feeling dazed. His mind almost went black, but the power of the Eye sustained him.

Jace rose to face him. "I don't want to kill you, Lannon. You may be more important to the fate of this world than I am. However, I have a right to defend myself and if need be, I will take you down."

Lannon swung at Jace's neck with a speed the sorcerer failed to match--but for some reason he didn't finish the strike, the sword blade pausing an inch from the flesh. Lannon was puzzled by this.

"You can't do it," said Jace. "You're too lawful."

Lannon raised his blade again for another swing.

Then the demon let out a loud hiss of warning. Vorden had somehow broken free of the sorcerous chains and was racing across the floor, spiked shield raised. Vorden's yellow eyes smoldered with rage directed toward the demon.

"Defend me, Lannon!" Lord Hathannis commanded.

As Lannon turned to look, Jace lunged forward and swung his fist at Lannon's skull. Lannon knocked the fist aside and again struck Jace in the forehead with his sword hilt, a brutal blow that knocked Jace instantly unconscious. The sorcerer toppled to the floor and lay motionless.

Lord Hathannis laughed. "This should be an enjoyable duel to watch. I think I'll grab a goblet of wine. I'm having too much fun tonight."

Lannon's sword clanged against Vorden's spiked shield, and Vorden shoved him back. The two warriors faced each other.

"I warned you of this, Lannon," said Vorden. "I warned you what could happen in this fortress, how you could lose yourself. Except I thought it would be me who turned evil here. You must find yourself!"

In response, Lannon swung at Vorden's legs, but his Dragon sword glanced off the plate armor, doing no damage.

"You're my best friend, Lannon," said Vorden. "Maybe my only real friend in this world. I don't want to kill you, but I won't leave you like this. I won't let you exist as a monster like I did. I'll finish you before that happens."

"Then finish him, cursed warrior," said Lord Hathannis. "Yes, I sense the power of the Deep Shadow in you. That's how you were able to break free."

"I'm not the cursed one this time," said Vorden. "Lannon is."

"You're a child of the Deep Shadow," said the demon. "Like me. You can never escape from the clutches of Tharnin, young man."

"Wrong!" snarled Vorden, but he seemed to falter.

Lannon drove his sword into Vorden's chest like a battering ram--but again the armor held and the mighty sword was turned aside.

Vorden swung an armored forearm at Lannon's head, but Lannon blocked with his own arm--flesh meeting metal. Lannon's arm--which was shielded by the Eye--knocked Vorden's aside.

Then Lannon tore Vorden's shield away from him and flung it aside. Vorden leapt in to get Lannon in a bear hug, but Lannon moved behind him and got an arm around Vorden's neck, choking him.

Vorden struggled to free himself, as Lannon sought to squeeze Vorden's throat until his breath was gone. Lannon was surprised at how difficult it was to strangle Vorden. His neck seemed like iron.

At last Vorden broke free, and he turned to face Lannon. "You're fighting halfheartedly, like a weakling. I don't possess the Hand of Tharnin anymore. What is holding you back?"

Lannon pondered that. Was he actually trying his hardest?

"Remember the Divine Essence, Lannon?" said Vorden. "Remember who you really serve? You should. You were blessed by our god and given a special gift. Don't waste it now living as a puppet."

"I am your master now," Lord Hathannis reminded Lannon. But a hint of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

Lannon lunged at Vorden and kicked his legs out from under him. Vorden fell to the floor, and Lannon tried to smash him in the skull with his sword hilt--but Vorden blocked with his forearm.

Lannon shoved the forearm aside.

Vorden gazed up at him, sadness in his eyes. "I guess you have to make a choice, old friend." He closed his eyes, waiting.

Lannon hesitated.

"Kill him!" came the demonic hiss.

Lannon smashed Vorden in the head. But it was not a killing blow, rendering Vorden unconscious with a severe concussion. Again, Lannon had held back for some reason. He turned toward the demon.

"I grow weary of this," the demon said. "I sense life in him. I want your sword through his neck. Take his head and end his miserable life."

Lannon raised the sword, and he believed he would do as ordered. His doubt seemed to fade, and he prepared to cut off Vorden's head.

Then he heard a groan from behind him. It was Jace, who had risen to his feet, blood dripping down his long nose. "Don't kill him, Lannon! In the name of Kuran Darkender, let your soul be free!"

Kuran Darkender? Lannon pondered the name. It seemed to have been important to him at one time, but he wasn't sure why.

Lord Hathannis seized Jace's throat in a clawed hand, lifting him into the air and shaking him. "Your death is long overdue," the demon bellowed. "I remember you, sorcerer. You, who came here so boldly and raided my fortress. I will choke your head right off your neck, you wretched thief!"

Lannon hesitated. Then at last he found himself, and a flood of memories returned. The Eye, backed by Lannon's will, broke the spell.

Lannon ran to the demon--who was focused entirely on killing Jace--with silent footsteps and shoved his sword into the pale back. The demon cried out in agony and dropped Jace. He twisted loose from the sword and turned to face Lannon, his face contorted with rage and hatred.

Vorden rose from the floor, his forehead swollen and his yellow eyes unfocused. Then he seized his spiked shield and raced toward them.

"Now you're finished!" said Lannon, rage and disgust surging through him over what the demon had done. With Vorden at his side, the two warriors moved toward their foe. The demon tried to hide in his fog, but the Eye had adapted and Lannon could track his movements.

Realizing Lannon could see him, Lord Hathannis stopped trying to conceal himself. He went after Vorden, who deflected a claw attack with his shield--the spikes drawing blood from the demon's hand. Meanwhile, Lannon slashed a deep wound in the demon's thigh.

Then Vorden's shield turned crimson with sorcery. It grew so hot that Lannon had to step away from it. Lord Hathannis sneered, undoubtedly thinking the smoldering weapon was no threat to him, and waited for Vorden's attack. But Vorden simply stood there holding King Gormanol's war shield, which had become so hot that even the stout Birlote steel had begun to droop.

Then Lannon attacked the demon from the flank. Lord Hathannis turned and deflected Lannon's sword stroke, while Vorden slammed the glowing shield against the demon's chest. The shield--heated by terrible fire given to Vorden by the Hand of Tharnin--melted deep into the demon's flesh and became a blob of molten metal. Vorden released the shield and stepped back.

The demon backed away, wailing in despair, trying to tear the glob of metal from his chest. Yet by then a huge hole had been burned into him. Lord Hathannis stumbled and fell, his blue eyes wide with shock. He continued to work at freeing himself from the blazing heat. The tyrant who had inflicted so much suffering on others would not die easily. He clung viciously to life.

Before Lord Hathannis could revive, however, Lannon delivered the finishing stroke. Driven by the Eye, Lannon's blade breached the demon's formidable barrier of dark sorcery and passed right through the pale neck.

It was over. The demon quickly burned to black ash.

***

The demon was slain, but the spell that bound the others did not fade. The wisps of fog were still wrapped around them, leaving them unable to move or speak. They couldn't even blink. And Prince Vannas was still lost in his trance. He hadn't moved a muscle the whole time Lannon had been battling the demon, his gaze still fixed on the White Flamestone. Lannon wondered how he could stand there with his hands cupped before him without growing tired.

"Can you free the others?" Lannon asked Vorden.

"No," Vorden replied. "My sorcery doesn't work that way."

Lannon sighed. "We have three sorcerers here, and none of us can break a dead demon's spell."

"I guess we stand guard and wait," said Vorden. "I know some of those Ghouls are still creeping about."

"With their master slain," said Jace, "I doubt they will attack."

Lannon sat at a table and worked on healing his ribs. He was tired of getting injured and dealing with severe pain, but he kept battling enemies of extreme power. He needed some easier foes for a change.

The others sat across from him. Everyone was hungry, with the smell of spicy meat strong in the air--but they would not touch the food, knowing it could be contaminated by the Deep Shadow.

"Sorry about your head wounds," said Lannon, sheepishly.

"Think nothing of it," said Vorden. "You were not in control. I'm just disappointed that you defeated me."

"Yes, think nothing of it," said Jace, sarcastically. "What's a little skull bashing between friends now and then?"

Lannon was flooded with guilt, for he believed he would have killed Vorden if Jace hadn't distracted him for a moment. Lannon had been fully prepared to bring the blade down. Would he have stopped himself at the last moment? He would never know the answer to that, and it gnawed at him.

"I know what you're thinking, Lannon," said Vorden, "because I feel it all the time. You wonder how you could have behaved like a monster. I would like to tell you that you'll get over the guilt, but I never have--and I likely never will. You're always going to regret this."

"I appreciate your honesty," said Lannon, though that wasn't entirely true. Part of him didn't want to hear such things.

"I won't lie to you," said Vorden. "What happened here is something you're going to have to face again. You have it in you to succumb to the Deep Shadow like your predecessors did. If you didn't, the demon could never have seized control of your mind."

Lannon knew Vorden spoke the truth. The strange battle lust that had been overwhelming him lately was surely a warning sign. The demon had snared him because he had been ripe for the snaring.

"But I can help you resist," said Vorden. "Because unlike you, I have to resist the Deep Shadow every day, and thus my wisdom has grown. Together, I think we can find a way to continue to serve the Divine Essence."

"Vorden speaks wise words," said Jace, blowing pipe smoke in Lannon's face and making him cough.

"Could you breathe in another direction?" asked Lannon. He spoke absently, his mind still on the earlier battle. He envisioned his blade poised above Vorden, and he shuddered. He wondered how Vorden found the strength to live with the knowledge of his evil deeds. Somehow, Vorden was able to partially accept that his actions weren't his fault--that he had been thoroughly controlled by the will of Tharnin. Could Lannon learn to do the same?

"My apologies," said Jace, turning his head to blow out more smoke. "Obviously not everyone shares my love of the pipe. But you're still young. When you've lived as long as I have, you find yourself pleasantly distracted by the simple things in life." He sniffed the air and groaned. "And right now, I'm being pleasantly distracted by the smell of roast pig. My goodness does that smell wonderful! Why does it have to be contaminated by the Deep Shadow? When Dallsa gets free, perhaps she could cleanse a piece of meat or two for me so I can eat."

Vorden shook his head in disbelief. "It's a wonder you haven't died from too much food, drink, or that foul leaf you smoke."

After several hours, the foggy chains began to dissipate. Aldreya was the first to break free, and she calmly approached them, leading Prince Vannas by the arm.

"Welcome back, my dear," said Jace.

"If possible," she said, "we must find our horses. We will need them if we are to continue our journey to Scalmfort Island." She smiled at them. "By the way, excellent work in slaying the demon. I felt terribly helpless watching the fight, but I knew you would prevail. You three did something that Divine Knights have tried to do for centuries--slay what might have been Dremlock's second most dangerous enemy to King Verlamer. There will be celebrating all over Silverland when news of this gets around."

"What about the prince?" asked Lannon.

"A trance like this is not unheard of," said Aldreya. "Sorcerers have been known to reach such deep states of meditation and focus that they forget to eat or drink for days and are unaware of what is happening around them. I suspect Prince Vannas is in such a state and his ability to use the White Flamestone will have improved when he finally comes out of it."

"Might as well sit down and wait," said Lannon.

Lothrin was the next one to break free--about an hour later--and he immediately ran to Prince Vannas and shook him. "Awaken, my cousin!" he cried, a look of despair on his face. "Don't let the power consume you!"

"The prince is fine," said Aldreya. "This is for the better."

"But look at him," said Lothrin, gazing at Vannas' frozen face. "Does he look fine to you? It seems to me his mind is imprisoned by the gem. All this trouble that nearly destroyed us is because of this White Flamestone. It is turning my cousin into some...some creature that thinks it is a deity."

"Calm yourself," said Aldreya. "Show some respect for the Divine Essence, for it was our god who chose Prince Vannas to wield the Flamestone. You talk as if our god is evil and selfish--out to destroy our cousin. The Flamestone is all that stands in the way of Bellis, and I am extremely grateful we have it back."

"Yet I am not," said Lothrin. "I wish it was lost forever."

"Lothrin, that's ridiculous," said Lannon. "Without the White Flamestone, Bellis would rule our kingdom, and we might all be dead."

"You don't know that," said Lothrin. "Bellis never actually conquered Dremlock, remember? The fighting was still going on in the tunnels beneath. And it was you and your famous duel that ultimately drove them from the kingdom. The White Flamestone is not necessary and will lead us to our doom--as it almost did in this fortress. Sooner or later Prince Vannas will go too far and become a force of destruction that no one will be able to control. For some reason, you all fail to see this coming to pass. Even our god fails to see it."

"It's rather arrogant of you, Lothrin," said Aldreya, "to believe yourself wiser than the Divine Essence. I think your fears have become irrational and have overcome your good sense."

"Irrational?" said Lothrin, with a look of disgust. He pointed at Vannas. "No, this is irrational. He can't even look away from the stone!"

"This is sorcery business," said Jace. "And you, Lothrin, are not a sorcerer. You're a man of nature, who views things from a simple and practical perspective. But there is nothing simple or straightforward about Prince Vannas' connection to the White Flamestone. Nothing at all. Even I cannot comprehend it."

"Listen to Jace," said Aldreya. "His words are wisdom."

"All I know," said Lothrin, "is that the Flamestone led my cousin into the lair of a foul demon. And the gem still consumes his mind. If we hadn't come here and defeated the demon, what would have become of the prince? Surely the demon would have found a way to destroy him and claim the Flamestone. The Divine Essence is not protecting my cousin. In fact, just the opposite is true."

Aldreya's face darkened. "Lothrin, you need to be wary of what you're saying. Speaking out against the Divine Essence is not tolerated. That sort of talk can result in punishment."

Lothrin gazed at her defiantly. "I would rather lose my Knighthood than watch my cousin turn into some power-crazed monster. Remember, there is a good reason that Olzet Ka placed the Crimson Flamestone on a bed of straw and cast a spell over it that no one has been able to break. He knew it was too dangerous for mortal hands. And so is this White Flamestone."

"Too dangerous?" said Jace. "Yes, but only if an even greater danger isn't present. After the defeat of the Barloak Demons, the threat of the Deep Shadow was severely diminished. The Crimson Flamestone was not needed. But even Olzet Ka knew that terrible threats could rise again, and so he left a possibility that someday the stone could be removed from the straw...by one of his descendants."

Lothrin reached up and touched the leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. "My future son," he whispered. "Ethrin..."

Jace nodded. "Do not shun the Flamestones, Lothrin, for your fate seems bound to them--and the fate of your future son."

"If I ever have a son," said Lothrin, "I will not subject him to such a curse as the one that has been inflicted upon Prince Vannas."

"Eventually," said Jace, "I suspect you will change your mind about that. As I said before, only the Flamestones can stop Bellis now."

"Prince Vannas has been blessed," said Aldreya, "not cursed. And I have heard enough of this. Do not speak ill of our god again, Lothrin."

"Can we just wait in silence?" asked Lannon, not liking the tension in the air. "I need to heal my cracked ribs."

"Good idea," said Jace. "I need to heal my cracked skull."

"Sorry," Lannon mumbled.

***

After the others had escaped their bonds (with Jerret and Daledus expressing disappointment that they had missed the battle), they searched the fortress for their horses. Ghouls were still lurking about, so they moved cautiously, leading Prince Vannas along. Beyond the Dining Room was a wide hallway lined with thick pillars that ended at an iron door that looked like it could withstand a tree-trunk sized battering ram. The door was secured by another extremely complex Olrog lock that Lannon couldn't open (which was yet another blow to his confidence as far as opening locks was concerned). Had Prince Vannas been his normal self, he could have blasted through the door with white fire, but his condition remained unchanged.

They quickly gave up, instead taking a narrow tunnel that led through some storage rooms filled with barrels of grain and other food items. This area of the keep seemed to awaken Jace's memories, and he told them he thought this route led through a stable and out of the fortress.

Jace was correct. After getting past another locked iron door (this one less secure than the last), they soon came to a large, rugged cavern that served as the stable, complete with stalls and feed for the horses. Not only were the Greywinds there, but several other horses as well. A pair of Ghouls that were guarding the horses fled into the rain at the sight of them.

"The storm has ended," said Lannon, pointing at the cave mouth that led outside. "There is only rain now. We should ride quickly for camp."

Aldreya nodded. "We will return here later and finish exploring--if Dremlock doesn't send other Knights for that purpose."

"Why the urgency, Lannon?" asked Jerret.

"I don't know," said Lannon. "I have a bad feeling."

"You think the camp was attacked?" asked Jerret, a shadow of concern creeping over his face. "I fear that as well."

Lannon didn't answer that question. He didn't have an answer. All he had was an anxious feeling that may or may not have come from the Eye of Divinity. They had rescued Prince Vannas and the White Flamestone, but at what cost?

### Chapter 19:

The Decision of Jerret Dragonsbane

The light of morning was settling upon the mountainside when Lannon and the others rode into camp. The journey down from Wallrock Fortress had been much easier than the one that had taken them upward, with a wide path that the horses had no problem navigating. The rain had slacked off to a light drizzle, as they sat in their saddles gazing at the camp. They knew instantly something was wrong. The camp should have been guarded.

The tents and wagons were there and intact (with an Elder Hawk perched atop one of the wagons and watching them). Yet there was not a Knight or horse to be seen. The Hawk looked miserable.

Jerret's face bore a grim expression. "What do you see, Lannon?"

Lannon didn't want to look, but he had to. He scanned the campsite with the Eye, including the large pile of ash where the bonfire had been. Heavy sadness washed over him. He didn't want to reveal what he saw.

"Lannon?" said Jerret. "Speak!"

Lannon took a deep breath. "They're all dead, as far as I can tell. Their bodies were burned on the bonfire with sorcery. They were killed by blade and arrow. I glimpsed signs of prisoners facing torture and execution. There is no sign of Bekka or Taith, but Galvia is amongst the dead."

The others sat in silence for a time, their heads bowed.

Then Jerret looked up--a spark of rage already beginning to overcome his pain. "Who was it? The Lawkeeper and his Knights?"

Lannon nodded.

"Yet this doesn't make sense," said Aldreya. "Why would the Lawkeeper attack, if his plan was to wait for us to obtain the Green Flamestone?"

"To weaken us," said Jace. "Now only the Council of Ollanhar remains to seek out the Green Flamestone. That could work to his advantage when it comes time to fight us for the Flamestone. I think it was a poor strategy, but obviously he couldn't resist attacking the camp while we were away."

"He has made a terrible mistake," Jerret said quietly.

"We must hunt him down and punish him," said Lothrin, drawing his Flayer. "He couldn't have gone too far in the storm. I'm guessing he is camped nearby. We should ride in and strike quickly."

"We must remain calm," said Aldreya, "and think."

"Remain calm?" said Jerret. "He slaughtered my best friend!" His face turned crimson with rage. "I'll cut off his head!"

"We cannot risk starting a war with Bellis," said Aldreya. "Not now--when the Green Flamestone is still beyond our grasp. We must proceed very carefully. We should send a Hawk to Dremlock and consult with the High Council before we engage the Lawkeeper in combat."

"This is ridiculous," growled Jerret. "The Lawkeeper mocks us. He has ambushed and executed our Knights, and we intend to do nothing?"

"Aldreya is right," said Jace. "We cannot risk war. Not yet."

Lannon sighed. "I know how you're feeling, Jerret. I feel it too. I want justice to be served. But...I suppose Aldreya and Jace are right."

"They're not right," said Jerret. "We will never win this war if we behave like cowards. You must see that, Lannon."

"I too want justice," said Vorden. His yellow eyes gleamed with anger in the light of dawn. "But what should we do, Jerret? Should we hunt them down and slay them all, then try to get rid of the evidence? We're Divine Knights. If we kill them, we must admit what we have done, and when we do so, King Verlamer will declare his agreement with Dremlock broken. Then war will begin. And we are not ready. On the other hand..." He shook his head and sighed.

"More bloodshed will not solve anything," said Dallsa. "I agree that we need to be patient and let the High Council of Dremlock decide."

Jerret clutched his head and groaned. "So we're just going to let him ride away, with the blood of Galvia and the other Knights on his hands?"

"Surely we cannot do that," said Lothrin. "We must at least confront him."

"We must do more than confront him," said Daledus, his eyes burning with a fire that only a Grey Dwarf possessed. "Because of this, there should be war. Bellis has already broken the agreement."

"That's foolish talk," said Jace. "It's in Bellis' best interests to see the agreement broken--not ours. Maybe that's why the Lawkeeper did this--to drive us to attack him. Are we going to fall for it?"

"Still, we must confront him!" Jerret insisted.

"A confrontation could lead to combat," said Aldreya. "We should send the Hawk first and wait for a response."

"I wholeheartedly agree," said Jace.

"I don't know," said Lannon. "It seems wrong to just let him do this without even telling him we are aware of his crime."

Moments later, Taith ran into the camp. He was soaked and miserable, and holding a rock in one hand like a weapon. He immediately ran to Lannon, dropped the rock, and climbed onto his horse, shivering.

"I'm sure glad to see you, Taith!" said Lannon, delighted the boy was alive. "What happened? How did you escape?"

"That ugly man let me go," said Taith. "The one with the strange silver hair. He wanted to make me a Squire of Bellis, but after he tested me, he said I was a worthless wretch and...and he hoped the mountain would swallow me. He sent he away with no food and water to die. But I hid in a cave until he left."

"Tell me of Galvia," said Jerret, gazing at Taith. "How did she die?"

"Arrows," said Taith. "It took a lot of them to kill her."

Jerret bowed his head. "Did she fight?"

"She fought very hard," said Taith. "She broke out of her irons and killed one of the warriors. Then they shot her and the others." Tears ran down his face.

Jerret looked away to hide his own pain.

"We need to make a decision," said Aldreya. "Do we confront the Lawkeeper, or do we wait? Should we vote on it?"

"A vote would be wise," said Lannon.

"I'm undecided on this issue," said Vorden. "I haven't had enough time to think it over, and I want to abstain from the vote."

"I vote to confront," said Jerret.

"Confront," said Daledus, slamming his fist into his palm.

"Confront," said Lothrin.

"Send a Hawk first," said Dallsa.

"Send a Hawk," said Jace. "Of course."

"You already know my vote," said Aldreya. "We should send a Hawk. Lannon? It appears your vote will be the deciding one."

Lannon hesitated. What if confronting the Lawkeeper did start a war? The burden would be on his shoulders. He glanced at Jerret--saw the pleading look there--and decided they should confront without violence.

"We have every right to deal with the Lawkeeper," said Lannon. "If it leads to bloodshed and war, it will be Bellis' decision, not ours. We owe it to Galvia and the other Knights. Thus, I vote to confront."

"I'm disappointed, Lannon," said Aldreya. "You're putting our future at risk to prove a point. But so be it."

Lannon didn't reply, choosing to stand his ground.

Suddenly, Prince Vannas lowered the White Flamestone. He put it in its pouch and tucked it away. "Did I miss anything?" he asked.

***

They took time out from the discussion to explain what had happened. When they were finished, Prince Vannas sat in silence for a few moments.

"Are you okay?" Lothrin asked. "I was afraid you would never emerge from that trance. Your mind seemed completely lost to the world."

The prince nodded. "Just very sad over what has happened to Galvia and our Knights. It also makes me angry. As far as my trance--I was indeed learning about the White Flamestone, and my power has grown. I know some amazing secrets that will help us greatly in our struggle against Bellis. We can discuss that later. I suppose for now I should give my vote."

They waited in tense silence as Vannas contemplated. At last he said, "Although I feel we could hold our own against Bellis, it would be better to take possession of the Green Flamestone before we risk going to war. I vote that we consult with Taris and Furlus before taking action."

"Then we have a tie," said Aldreya. "And when there is a tie, my vote as Green Knight carries more weight." She sighed with relief.

"Wait a moment," said Dallsa. She took position beside Lannon. "If Lannon feels we should confront the Lawkeeper, then I want to change my vote. Lannon is the wisest person I know. So, yes, I'm changing my vote."

Aldreya's lips tightened in irritation. "You're a strong woman, Dallsa, yet you're not showing it here. Can't you make up your own mind on what you believe? Don't be afraid to oppose Lannon on this vote."

"Aldreya is right," said Lannon. "Vote with your conscience."

Dallsa sighed. "I'm not a little girl, Lannon, so don't treat me like one. I realize I have a lot to learn, but I'm not stupid. I am voting with my conscience, with my heart, with my soul, and everything. I really see your point after what you said, and I have changed my mind. Simple as that."

"Fine," Aldreya muttered, glaring at Dallsa and Lannon. "We will ride forth immediately."

"Forgot to mention," said Taith, "that there's a girl lying in the woods. The dark-skinned girl with a lot of muscles. She's alive, but she looks sick or injured. She can't seem to get up or talk."

"It must be Bekka," said Dallsa, excitedly. "Lead me to her, Taith."

The rain had ceased, and a bit of sun broke through the clouds as Dallsa, Taith, and Daledus hurried off and carried Bekka into camp. They laid her in the back of a wagon, and Dallsa went to work trying to heal her. They hooked the wagon up to one of the horses, not wanting to leave anyone at camp considering what had happened last time. Taith joined Dallsa in the wagon.

***

It didn't take them long to find the Lawkeeper and his warriors. They were camped on a rocky slope less than a mile away. As they neared the circle of tents, the guards bellowed out a warning, and soon all of Bellis' fighters were gathered with weapons drawn. The Lawkeeper stood boldly at the forefront of the crowd, holding his leather satchel of books, the usual arrogant look on his face.

"Come," said Aldreya, to Lannon. "Just the two of us."

"Be cautious," Jace warned them in a low voice. "Remember, Bellis would love to have an excuse to break its agreement with Dremlock."

"I have your backs," said Prince Vannas, bringing forth the White Flamestone. "Any warrior who makes threatening move will die instantly."

"This may well come to bloodshed," said Daledus, a hint of eagerness in his voice. "If it does, bear in mind that it was justified and you are not to blame. Prison is too good for these devils. Only death will suffice."

"There will be no bloodshed this day," Aldreya insisted. "We will obey the Sacred Laws, for one thing. And we are only here to confront the Lawkeeper and his warriors, not attack them. Is that clearly understood? I know we're all saddened and angry by what happened, but we must stay focused on the future of our land and kingdom. I promise that eventually justice will be served."

"I promise it too," said Jerret, in a cold voice.

"I will be watching the Lawkeeper," said Lothrin, drawing an arrow from his quiver. "If he makes a move..." The lean Ranger seemed eager to see justice done, a cold and deadly glint in his eyes.

"I wish I had a weapon," said Vorden, with a sigh. "I really liked that battle shield. But I guess it served its purpose well in helping destroy the demon. King Gormanol would be proud of its fate."

"You can use my sword," said Prince Vannas. "It is made of stout Birlote steel." He reached for the jeweled hilt but Vorden shook his head.

"Don't bother," said Vorden. "Even Birlote steel cannot withstand my fire. That looks to be a very expensive sword, and I would just turn it to mush. If battle erupts, I will fight with my fists."

"If I die," said Jerret, "my blade is yours, Vorden."

"I make the same promise," said Lannon. "If I ever fall in battle, my sword passes to you, Vorden. You've earned it."

"Thank you," said Vorden. "I feel honored, and I mean that sincerely. But I would much rather you two stay alive."

"It is time," said Aldreya, again motioning to Lannon.

The two rode forward, and Jerret Dragonsbane followed.

"Go back and wait with the others," Aldreya commanded. "Lannon and I alone will deal with the Lawkeeper."

"Do what she says, Jerret," said Lannon. "I know you have a lot to say to the Lawkeeper, but now is not the time."

But Jerret refused to turn back. His hand was locked around the hilt of his broadsword, but he left the blade in its sheath--which Lannon took as a good sign that Jerret wasn't planning anything foolish. The Red Knight's face was sullen, but otherwise unreadable. He didn't look at them, his gaze on the Lawkeeper.

They dismounted and approached the Lawkeeper.

"Can I help you?" he snarled. "I am very busy right now and have no time for idle talk. So unless this is highly important, please leave."

Ethella took position beside him, crystal staff in hand. She exchanged an amused glance with the Lawkeeper. "What could these people have to say that would be highly important? Our time is certainly wasted." Blue fire shimmered along her crystal staff, warning Lannon and Aldreya to proceed carefully.

"I saw the crime you committed," said Lannon, whose face was partially shrouded by his hood. "The torture and execution of our Knights."

"I know nothing of that," said the Lawkeeper. "Who was tortured and executed? And when did it happen? Where is your proof?"

"We have all the proof we need," said Aldreya. "It was revealed to us through the Eye of Divinity. And by the word of a boy."

The Lawkeeper waved them away. "That's your only proof? The Eye of Divinity is not recognized by Bellis law as proof of anything. Too little is known about this type of sorcery, and it is too unreliable. If Lannon saw anything like what he describes, then his mind was clearly tricked by the Deep Shadow. And the word of a mere boy cannot be trusted. So you have no proof."

Two Golden Knights took position behind the Lawkeeper. The two Thallite Giants stood behind the Guardians, smug looks on their faces. Several warriors trained their crossbows on Prince Vannas. Lothrin readied his arrow in response, the shaft pointed at the Lawkeeper.

"Take your lies and go away," said Ethella.

"What I saw was the truth," said Lannon. "And by Dremlock law, you have committed punishable acts. We have the right to arrest you."

"You would attempt that?" said the Lawkeeper, with a look of disbelief. "And risk war coming to Dremlock? You are more of a fool than I had assumed. But go ahead and do what you must. It won't be easy to arrest us. We will fight. And even if we lose, King Verlamer will soon know of your treachery."

A moment of tense silence followed.

"Have you even considered," said the Lawkeeper, "that these mountains are crawling with various horrors? How do you know it wasn't some foul monsters that slew your Knights? Did you examine the wounds?"

"The bodies were gone," said Aldreya. "You burned them to ash."

"So no bodies," said the Lawkeeper, shaking his head. "And it was pouring rain all night, so how could we burn anything? Your so-called proof grows less credible by the moment."

"She burned them with sorcery," said Aldreya, pointing at Ethella.

Ethella laughed. "Don't be absurd. I'm not that powerful, that I can make fire burn in the middle of a fierce downpour. Could you do that?"

Aldreya didn't answer.

"You did it somehow," said Lannon. "The Eye saw it."

Unable to contain himself any longer, Jerret growled, "This is a waste of time. You know what you did, and you will die for it. Here and now."

"Silence, barbarian," said the Lawkeeper. "Let the intelligent amongst you speak. Go drink some ale or find some poor man or beast to bully. Go punch someone in a tavern. It's all you're good for."

Jerret gazed at him coldly, but didn't reply.

Aldreya pulled Lannon aside to whisper to him. "We must send a Hawk first, Lannon. If we arrest him, it will mean war."

Reluctantly, Lannon nodded. The arrogance of the Lawkeeper and Ethella was maddening, and his heart was flooded with the desire for justice--but not at the risk of war against a kingdom that nearly ruled the entire continent.

"Is your business here finished?" asked the Lawkeeper. "I am a busy man with important things to do--and I haven't had my breakfast yet. Hot tea and cake await me in my tent. Either arrest us, or leave my campsite."

"You are free to go," Aldreya said. "For now. But eventually you will pay for your crimes. Such evil cannot go unpunished."

Jerret turned his sullen gaze toward Aldreya. "If we don't arrest him, I will be forced to finish this myself."

"If you do anything foolish, Jerret," Aldreya warned, "you will be permanently stripped of your Knighthood. You will lose everything."

"Get on your horse, Jerret," said Lannon.

"Be gone with you, savage," said the Lawkeeper, motioning Jerret away. "I have no time to deal with such a dull-minded oaf."

"Galvia was worth more than all of you," said Jerret, making a sweeping gesture toward Bellis' fighters. He swallowed, overcome by emotion for an instant.

"Apparently not," said the Lawkeeper, "if she is amongst the dead. Apparently she's not worth the dirt beneath my boots these days. She is nothing now." He grinned.

Jerret sat like a statue, knuckles white as he gripped his sword. "She was a friend unlike any other. We shared a bond between warriors that you can never know. And you took that away in the most cowardly fashion."

Ethella laughed. "I think the dumb oaf is angry. He lost his girlfriend and he wants to blame someone for it."

Jerret didn't look at her. His gaze was focused on the Lawkeeper--and there was death in that gaze.

The grin vanished from the Lawkeeper's face, as he looked into Jerret's icy eyes. He turned to Aldreya. "Better rein in your savage before--"

Jerret's broadsword cleared its sheath, catching the light of dawn for a moment before erupting into crimson flames. And then it tore through the air with a speed that no one--not even Lannon--had a chance to interfere with.

The Glaetherin broadsword passed through the Lawkeeper's neck. His body collapsed, as his head rolled down the rocky slope.

A gasp arose from the onlookers.

Ethella lunged at Jerret with her glowing staff--but Lannon was there in an instant, his sword blocking her attack.

Ethella backed away from Lannon, a look of fear in her eyes.

"Order a retreat!" Lannon commanded. "Or you will all be arrested!"

Prince Vannas rode forward, the White Flamestone blazing.

Bellis' warriors had started forward, but Ethella waved them back. "I am in command now," she told them. "We will not fight."

Reluctantly, the warriors lowered their weapons.

Ethella sneered at the Lawkeeper's body. "I hated that old fool anyway. I'm glad he's dead." Laughing, she motioned the Divine Knights to leave. "Ride away, little Knights. Your time will come soon enough."

As the Knights departed, Aldreya's face showed deep disappointment.

***

When they reached camp, and dismounted from the horses, Aldreya took a deep breath, turned to Jerret, and said, "For violating the Sacred Laws of Dremlock, I call for a vote to expel you from the Divine Order of Red Knights and from the Council of Ollanhar."

The other Knights looked dismayed.

"Is there a way I can avoid this?" Jerret asked quietly. "Make amends?"

"No," said Aldreya. "What you have done--risking war with Bellis to satisfy your lust for vengeance--is not the way of a Divine Knight. You will never be a Knight of the Order again, for as long as you live."

"Then I await the vote," said Jerret.

"He should be given another chance," Vorden said to Aldreya. "Jerret has served Dremlock honorably, and the Lawkeeper deserved to be executed for his crimes. Yes, Jerret should not have done it. But why deprive him of his Knighthood over the death of a wretched fiend like that? It makes no sense."

"Dremlock does not execute people," Aldreya replied. "The Sacred Laws forbid it. Even our worst enemies--should they surrender--will face only imprisonment for their crimes. This is the will of the Divine Essence. Jerret slew the Lawkeeper without warning--and after no trial took place. His crime is so severe that we cannot in good conscience allow him to remain a Knight."

"How is that different than an assassination?" asked Vorden. "And we know Dremlock sends forth assassins."

"Assassinations are allowed," said Aldreya, "when very specific criteria is met and the High Council has voted. That is not the case here. Jerret took matters into his own hands. This was nothing but an execution."

Lannon looked on in helpless frustration, knowing he was powerless to prevent this. Jerret had simply gone too far, and his career as a Divine Knight was finished. No other outcome was possible.

Dallsa was summoned from the wagon, and the voting began.

The Council gathered in a circle. "All in favor of banishing Jerret from Knighthood," said Aldreya, "speak now."

Without hesitation, Lannon said, "I vote for banishment. The Sacred Laws demand it, and in this case it is truly justified. I'm terribly sorry, my friend. But you left me with no choice."

Jerret shook his head, looking disgusted. "I guess I'm not your friend after all, Lannon. I thought for sure I would at least have your vote."

"You're being unfair to me," said Lannon. "I must vote with my conscience. One cannot be a Divine Knight halfheartedly. I am in it all the way, Jerret." But Jerret's words stung deeply, and Lannon wondered if he was making the right choice, Sacred Laws or not.

"I vote for banishment," said Dallsa. "And shame on you, Jerret, for stomping on your friendship with Lannon over this. It was your choice to...to cut off that man's head, and while he deserved it, that is not our way of things. You have to live with this always, and I hope you eventually find peace."

"I vote to award Jerret a Medal of Divinity," said Daledus, his face sullen and defiant. "Taking the Lawkeeper's head was justified." He fixed his grey eyes on Jerret. "You may lose your Knighthood, but you have earned the respect of this Dwarf. Vengeance was ours today. I will say no more."

Aldreya sighed. "Who's next?"

"I don't like what happened," said Vorden. "Not at all. I'm glad the Lawkeeper is dead, but that just wasn't right. However, I also believe people make mistakes out of wild emotion--sometimes truly wretched ones--and that forgiveness is possible. Jerret is an amazingly talented fighter and he has a noble heart. Therefore, my conscience dictates that I vote for him to remain."

"I vote for Jerret to remain," said Jace, with a shrug. "He let his anger get the best of him, and put us at great risk for war, but he is an exceptional fighter and will be needed in the days ahead. Banishing him is pointless."

"Banishment," said Prince Vannas. "The Sacred Laws cannot be compromised. This was an arrogant and blatant violation of all that Dremlock and Ollanhar stand for. It simply must not go unpunished."

"I vote to give him another chance," said Lothrin. "But it doesn't matter, because the majority has already spoken."

Aldreya stepped close to Jerret, face to face. "Jerret Dragonsbane, by official vote of the Council of Ollanhar you are hereby banished forever from the Divine Order. You are no longer a Knight. However, you will still receive payment for past services rendered, which you can collect at Ollanhar Tower. I will also allow you to keep your horse until you can purchase a different one. Then the Greywind must be returned to Ollanhar where it belongs."

"Then I guess it's truly over," said Jerret, with a huge sigh. His sword slipped from his fingers and clattered to the rocky ground.

Lannon couldn't imagine the despair Jerret was feeling--but it was his own fault. He had made his decision and would have to live with it.

"I guess I'll be leaving then," said Jerret.

No one answered, their hearts heavy with sadness.

Jace, however, seemed in a cheerful mood. He picked up Jerret's fallen broadsword with its wolf-head hilt and examined it. "Excellent blade," he said. "The Lawkeeper never stood a chance."

"I had my revenge," said Jerret, "but my future is lost. Would I do it again? Yes, but right now I feel...wretched beyond belief."

Jace shrugged. "Don't feel bad. Futures come and go. I've lost my future many times--and found a different one to replace it." He smiled. "I have a suspicion that Lannon needs to hire a henchman. Isn't that right, Lannon?"

"I don't know," said Lannon, caught off guard by the suggestion. "Am I allowed to? Jerret just beheaded the Lawkeeper without warning. Once word gets to Dremlock, he could even face a criminal trial for his actions."

"Well, it was rather impulsive of him," said Jace. "But it's not like that vile puppet of Bellis didn't deserve to lose his head. Let's not be too judgmental here over a bit of vengeance from a Red Knight. You know how they are. As the High Watchman, you have the right to hire some muscle--and Jerret has a lot of that. I say go ahead and put him on the payroll. Do you really think the High Council of Dremlock will interfere with your decisions? If so, you haven't been paying attention."

"I forbid this," said Aldreya, her face stony. "You are attempting to persuade Lannon to get around our decision. That is unacceptable."

Jace bowed. "Of course I am. Uncle Jace is full of such schemes--all for the greater good, of course. I must point out that the High Watchman has final say over who he hires. This isn't about Dremlock, but Ollanhar. It is not your decision, Aldreya. And bear in mind that I too was banished from Knighthood--yet here I am, riding with Divine Knights and serving so well."

Aldreya turned to Lannon. "Then what is your answer?"

Lannon sighed. "I like to keep things peaceful, of course. But...Jerret is a great fighter and certainly needed. For now, Jerret can ride with us and be paid for the trouble. It's too dangerous to be alone in these mountains anyway."

Aldreya seemed about to reply. Then she simply walked away.

Jace handed the sword to Jerret. "I guess you'll still be needing this."

Jerret took the sword. "I suppose I always will need it." He gazed into the distance. "Somehow I went wrong and forgot what it means to be a Divine Knight. Now I'm nothing but a barbarian, killing in the name of vengeance." He shrugged. "If that's what I am, then so be it. I don't really have any skills beyond the use of my sword. I will remain a warrior for hire--if not with Ollanhar, then somewhere else. Now that I've lost my Knighthood, I realize how important it was to me. Galvia wouldn't have wanted this for me."

"No, she would not have," Lannon agreed. After he spoke, though, Lannon found he wasn't so sure. The Grey Dwarves were not shy about claiming vengeance when necessary (much to the disappointment of Dremlock at times). As far as Lannon knew, Galvia's soul might have been cheering Jerret on. There was nothing more to be said. Jerret was a different type of warrior than Lannon--a Red Knight to the core--and Lannon could never understand his ways.

### Chapter 20:

The Banners of Ollanhar

At Ollanhar, after funerals were held for the fallen Knights, a special ceremony took place outside on the tower grounds to honor Faindan, Furlus, Valedos, and the rest of the Nine Axes. Three days had passed since Tenneth Bard's defeat, and it was a warm summer evening, the heavens filled with stars. A feast was held, and a fire was blazing. Orange Squires served drinks while a pair of bards wandered about between the tables and entertained the crowd.

Faindan, Furlus, and Valedos sat apart from the others at a table. It was a pleasant evening, but Valedos was sullen--still feeling pain over the deaths of two of the Nine Axes at the hands of Tenneth Bard. Nevertheless, Valedos had already cleaned two platters of food and had consumed three jugs of ale.

"What are we to be now?" he asked. "The Seven Axes?"

"Seven are better than none," said Furlus. "But there are other Dark Knights who would qualify. What about Garndon Steelbreaker? He is one of the stoutest Knights I've ever seen. Why haven't you recruited him?"

Valedos nodded. "Yes, I can find others. But the original Ten Axes fought together for so long I had come to believe we were invincible. Yet now three of us are dead. I thought the catacombs beneath Dremlock were as dangerous as things could get, yet all three perished above ground."

"No man is invincible," said Furlus. "Not even Faindan here." He nudged Faindan's arm, smiling. "But he sure looked invincible when he knocked Tenneth Bard off his horse and injured him so deeply. It's just a pity we were not able to successfully hunt down the Black Knight afterwards."

"I don't know what I did," said Faindan. "I just noticed my sword was wrapped in white fire, and I lashed out at him. I still can't believe what happened."

"What happened," said Furlus, "is that you caught Tenneth Bard off guard. He wasn't expecting the white fire. If he survives his wounds, the next time he faces you he will be more prepared."

"What is the white fire?" asked Faindan.

Furlus frowned. "Didn't you pay attention during your studies as a Squire? You should have learned about the white fire."

"I hated study time," Faindan admitted. "My mind was always wandering."

"The white fire," Furlus said, "is an extremely rare ability that only a handful of Knights have ever possessed. Kuran Darkender was the first, and there have only been eight others since over the centuries. Faindan, you are the tenth overall. The white fire is extremely powerful, allowing a blade to cut through almost anything--even stone or steel."

"Like the White Flamestone itself," said Faindan, in awe.

Furlus shook his head. "While there are similarities, they are not the same. The white fire that you wield is something unique. It is the common Knightly fire taken to an extreme level. We believe that any Knight has the potential to unlock the white fire--but for whatever reason, only a few succeed."

"But what does this mean for me?" asked Faindan. "And what about the vision of Kuran Darkender I had? Does that mean anything?"

"Possibly," said Furlus. "Do you know what every Lord Knight who has ever served Dremlock Kingdom has in common? They all had a vision of Kuran Darkender when they were in a time of great need. In fact, such a vision is one of the major qualifications to becoming a Lord Knight."

Faindan shook his head in amazement. "So not only do I wield the white fire, but...if I worked extremely hard, I could be Lord Knight someday." He couldn't help but laugh. "A one-handed Lord Knight."

"Stranger things have happened," said Furlus.

"Let's not jump to conclusions," said Valedos. "You fought well, Faindan. But you have much to learn, and the white fire can be difficult to master. And I hate to say it, but now you will be a major target of the Deep Shadow--right up there with Lannon Sunshield and Prince Vannas."

"Great," said Faindan. "I find out I have a rare power and the potential to be a Lord Knight--but now I have to constantly worry about being assassinated."

Furlus nodded. "Striking such a terrible blow to Tenneth Bard will have consequences for you. It is the way of things."

"What should I do now?" Faindan asked.

"Eat, drink, and enjoy this fine evening," said Furlus. "Whatever happens will happen. And that goes for you as well, Valedos."

Valedos' hand clamped around his ale mug. "We already know how our stories will end. They will end with death. But what will we do in the meanwhile? What great deeds will we accomplish? There is still time."

"At least I have another chance," said Faindan. "Not long ago I thought I was finished as a Divine Knight. I am truly blessed to be here."

"Any word from Lannon and the others?" asked Valedos.

Faindan chuckled. "Aldreya probably thinks I'm long gone, that I quit in shame. She's going to be in for quite a surprise."

"A Hawk has not arrived yet," said Furlus, "but I doubt there is any reason for worry. They're probably beyond the Soddurn Mountains now and well into new lands. Soon the Green Flamestone will be ours."

"The future is bright," said Faindan, raising his ale mug.

They banged their ale mugs together, as a bard broke into a new song about hope, peace, and justice in the land of silver.

***

They left their tents standing on the mountainside. It was not yet time to move on. A Hawk had been sent to Dremlock carrying written news of their situation and questions for the High Council, and it would take days before they heard back--which meant days of camping in the gloomy peaks.

Though the evil aura of the mountains was always present, the air smelled fresh and clean. With Prince Vannas claiming his ability to use the White Flamestone had improved, they were feeling optimistic about the future.

It was still difficult for them to accept that all the Knights who had accompanied the Council of Ollanhar were dead. They decided they would hold funerals for the fallen warriors after leaving the mountains.

"As you all know," said Aldreya, "our mission to obtain the Green Flamestone is being postponed until we have word from Dremlock. They may opt to send Knights to replace those who were slain, or they may want us to finish securing Wallrock Fortress being moving on. Considering Prince Vannas keeps gaining more power, they may choose to abandon the quest for the Green Flamestone altogether--though that seems doubtful. We simply won't know until they tell us. I definitely expect someone to come and escort young Taith to Dremlock."

"Regardless," said Prince Vannas, "this excursion into the Soddurn Mountains has been a great victory. We have slain one of Dremlock's mightiest foes, and his fortress with its many resources is now ours for the taking."

Lannon was surprisingly disappointed that they weren't heading off to distant lands immediately. He found himself wanting to see new places and learn new things. What strange wonders--and terrors--existed beyond Silverland on the sprawling continent known as Gallamerth? He hoped he would get a chance to find out before all was said and done.

Jerret sat apart from the others, a gloomy look on his face. He may have been contemplating his future and the loss of his Knighthood--or Galvia's death. No one knew, because Jerret was choosing not to talk.

"I have an announcement to make," said Dallsa. She stood with her hand on Taith's shoulder. "Bekka Nightspear has made a dramatic improvement. Her strength is truly remarkable. Her wounds would surely have killed, or at least driven mad, a lesser warrior. She will always bear scars on her soul from the ordeal, yet I am convinced she will emerge from this stronger than ever."

"That is excellent news," said Aldreya. "I have seen great potential in Bekka, and I am certain she will continue to grow as a Knight."

"What now?" said Lannon. "I think this calls for a celebration."

"Let us raise the Banners of Ollanhar," said Aldreya. "To honor our struggle and those Knights who have perished. Then we will have a feast."

They raised the banners high (flags that depicted a black image of Ollanhar Tower on a green background) and cheered. Jerret, however, refrained from holding one of the banners, looking bitter.

"We are far from defeated," said Aldreya. "Bellis will soon realize that. Tenneth Bard will soon realize that, if he doesn't already. We may be a small island in a raging sea, but we will continue to expand."

"The future shows great promise," said Dallsa, squeezing Taith's shoulder.

Taith gazed up at her questioningly.

Suddenly, Lannon had the urge to be alone, and he left the campsite and leaned against a huge, gnarled pine, a cloaked shadow in the fog who would always walk a path no one else could follow--not even Taith. The boy would have to walk his own strange path as a Dark Watchman, and Lannon ultimately could not help him. The future indeed seemed promising, but the potential for great evil was there as well. Yet the Sacred Laws were Lannon's friend, and as long as he continued to obey them, he knew he had nothing to fear. The Divine Essence had given him what he needed to resist the darkness, and Lannon controlled his own fate.

End.

