Knights: The Eye Of Divinity 30lv

Knights: The Blood of Kings

by Robert E. Keller

Book 4 of the Knights Series

Smart Goblin Publishing 2014

Smashwords Edition

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.

Original and exclusive cover art by Carolina Mylius

Copyright © 2014 Robert E. Keller

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: Spring Rains and Shadow Chapter 2: The Visitor Chapter 3: A Spy in Dremlock Chapter 4: The Prince and the Thief Chapter 5: A Dream of Servitude Chapter 6: The Restless Ones Chapter 7: The Ritual of Fire Chapter 8: The Drums of War Chapter 9: War in Hethos Chapter 10: The Dark Watchmen Chapter 11: Wagon South Chapter 12: Rogue Haven Chapter 13: Kalamede Chapter 14: The Mouth of Madness Chapter 15: The Ironheart Priests Chapter 16: Invasion Chapter 17: The God of Bellis Chapter 18: Courtyard Duel

Chapter 19: The Gloomy Depths Chapter 20: Dremlock Dungeons Chapter 21: The Mad King of Bellis Chapter 22: The Fishing Trip Chapter 23: The Dragon Duels Chapter 24: The Challenge Chapter 25: The Grand Duel Chapter 26: The Council of Ollanhar

Chapter 1: Spring Rains and Shadow

A shadow lurked in the spring rains. All of Dremlock's Knights could sense it, but no one--not even Taris Warhawk--could comprehend what it was or why it had come. Its sinister aura drifted through the campsite, chilling to the bone whoever came in with it. There was whispered talk of another assassin, like the one who had plagued the now abandoned fortress of Dorok's Hand, but no bodies turned up as the days ed by. This was supposed to be a time of celebration for Dremlock Kingdom. Bellis was defeated, the Blood Legion was severely weakened, and the Black Flamestone and the Hand of Tharnin were in possession of the Divine Knights-yet still Taris, Furlus, and their battalion remained camped in the hill country, not far from where the sprawling iron skeleton of The Colossus lay stretched across a hilltop. The mood in the camp was grim, the growing tension a warning of things to come. Some of the Knights still needed rest and healing, and they hunkered down in their tents as a heavy spring rain swept the hills. The young Knights sat warm and dry in their tent, contemplating recent events. Lannon was still troubled over Timlin Woodmaster's death, wondering if he could have done anything differently that would have saved the former Squire from a bitter end. It was pointless to ponder such things, but Lannon couldn't seem to help himself. He would sit or lay for hours, running that final battle through his mind and picking apart every detail. Prince Vannas sighed and leaned back on his elbows, looking annoyed. The Birlote prince's mood had been dark lately. "We're Divine Knights now, yet nothing seems to have changed. Here we sit in our tent, guarded day and night. What was the point of even earning our promotions? I feel like something wretched and evil stalks us, but we can't go forth to confront it." "I agree," said Jerret Dragonsbane, his tangled blond hair in his eyes and his face sullen. The muscular Knight was always restless for action. "We're still being treated like Squires--except for Aldreya, who gets to train with Taris most every day. Everyone knows there is an enemy in the camp--perhaps a traitor--who will

attack us in our sleep. Lannon should be out and about, using the Eye." Lannon shrugged. "I welcome this time of rest." Then he added wearily, "If only I could actually get some rest and stop thinking about things I can't control." He liked the sound of the raindrops drumming down on the tent roof, for it seemed to soothe his mood. He closed his eyes and listened. Jerret scowled. "You're getting too used to all these threats to your life, Lannon. It has made you relax your guard." "It's not that," said Lannon. "I trust that Jace and Trenton will find this enemy before he can carry out his plan--whatever it may be." Lannon wore his Watchman's cloak--made of Birlote silk--mainly for the sake of comfort. The soft, warm garment seemed to help him relax. In one pocket was the Glaetherin throwing star--the priceless weapon that had slain Timlin Woodmaster. Lannon held the small pouch that contained the star in his fingers for a moment, wondering how many lives it had taken since it was forged. A deadly blade from ancient times, tasting blood once again in the hands of a new Dark Watchman. "Don't forget what happened with Thrake Wolfaxe," said Vannas. "He almost killed us all. I wouldn't put too much faith in our protectors, Lannon. You're the one who should be investigating this matter." The prince also wore Birlote silk, and as usual, he had a stack of books beside him (though he seemed too tense and restless to read them lately). His bronze skin was shadowy, his green eyes like twin flames. His silver hair was pulled back in a ponytail, revealing his pointed ears that were adorned with emerald earrings. Lannon shrugged. "When Taris is ready, he'll summon me." "We all ponder things too much," said Lothrin Windbow. "We're all a bit too restless." The Birlote archer sat across from his cousin Vannas, and for once he seemed to have nothing to do. His dagger was sharp and his bow was polished, and so he simply sat there like the rest of them and waited. Unlike the prince, Lothrin was dressed in simple clothing that any lowly Ranger might wear--a plain fur cloak and soft leather boots. But his eyes were like those of Vannas-fiery and determined, and holding the confidence of royalty. Galvia was asleep under her quilt and snoring gently, her war hammer laying next to her. Her broad face looked contented. The Grey Dwarf seemed more relaxed than the others lately. Being promoted to Knighthood had seemed to lift

a heavy burden off her shoulders. Jerret gazed at Galvia with envy. "I think she has the right idea--sleep until something interesting happens." Aldreya entered the tent, with Taris Warhawk behind her. Both of them wore grey, hooded cloaks that were soaking wet. Aldreya was grinning broadly, obviously excited over her training, as she threw back her hood to reveal her glistening silver curls. Jerret looked away, frowning, as Aldreya seated herself. "Greetings, young Knights," said Taris. The sorcerer sat down as well. Although he usually seemed calm and relaxed, he appeared strangely tense this day. The scars on one side of his face--where he'd been burned by the Hand of Tharnin-were lost in shadows beneath his hood. He looked weary. Aldreya drew her stone dagger and moved to dry off Taris with the fires of sorcery. But Taris motioned her to sit. Instantly, steam rose from his cloak and then he was completely dry, as the others looked on in amazement. Aldreya took to drying herself off the slow way, by moving her flaming dagger over her body. Still, it was quite effective and steam billowed off her grey cloak and flowing hair. "How are you, Master Taris?" asked Lannon. Taris shrugged. "Still in great pain much of the time. Being born of dark sorcery, the pain cannot easily be defeated--even with the focus of the mind. However, I am still able to carry out my duties. The pain is only an annoyance and doesn't prevent me from enjoying a good cup of tea." He smiled. "Pain is only a voice trying to get one's attention. It can be ignored." Taris appeared healthy enough. But he hid things well, and he could have been in agony for all the young Knights knew. His recent battle with the Specter had added to his health troubles. Taris had sacrificed his body to make sure that terrible creature was defeated, and he'd never complained about it or shown any hint of regret. "I have some news," said Taris. "Good or bad?" asked Prince Vannas, yawning.

"I'll take any news," said Jerret, "unless it's boring." "Oh, it certainly isn't boring," said Taris. "It concerns a dire situation in the city of Kalamede. A powerful cult of Tharnin--the Ironheart Priests of the Guardian Mountains--has taken up residence beneath the city and has been responsible for theft and murder on a large scale. The City Guard is unable to deal with this problem. Therefore, we must make for Kalamede at once and weed out this cult before it can carry out whatever dark plans it has concocted. This is a very serious situation. The Ironheart Priests are powerful and cunning warriors." "But what about the Blood Legion?" asked Jerret. "If they're so weak right now, shouldn't we be focusing on them?" Taris shook his head. "Dealing with these Ironheart Priests is more important. This is a cult that had apparently never strayed from the Guardian Mountains for more than three-hundred years--until now. We must investigate this matter." "Any idea what their plans are?" asked Lannon. Taris sat in thoughtful silence for a moment, then replied, "They may be serving Bellis and King Verlamer somehow, perhaps helping prepare for an invasion of Silverland. Or they may have a goal we cannot fathom. Not much is known about this cult--other than that they are powerful servants of Tharnin and have no regard for human life. Their murderous actions in Kalamede have proven that." "Their goal must be something horrific," said Lothrin, his eyes distant. "They're killing in the name of the Deep Shadow, seeking something within the city to advance their master's cause." No one responded. Lannon was disappointed that they would not be returning to Dremlock. It had been a long time since he'd seen the kingdom, and he missed it fiercely. The tunnels below Kalamede sounded stuffy and unpleasant--far from the noble towers and majestic Knightwood trees of Dremlock. "What about the latest rumors?" asked Jerret. "We know there is a traitor in our camp--or something just as bad." "So far," said Taris, "this aura that we sense remains a mystery. Jace believes we have a stealthy enemy in our midst that enters the camp each night. It is some

sort of silent stalker with...a sense of humor." "A sense of humor?" said Lannon. Taris nodded. "There are signs that it is mocking us, toying with us. It has stolen meat from above the flames, even as Knights were gathered around the fire pit. We have found large, beastly tracks here and there--and strange scents that inspire fear in the horses. It broke open some bags of grain and made tracks in the grain for us to see. It seeks to intimidate us." "Should I use the Eye of Divinity?" asked Lannon. "Not yet," said Taris. "We're still trying to understand this night stalker's purpose and what danger it might pose to you. As you've learned the hard way, using the Eye can be quite perilous." Lannon nodded, grim memories flashing through his mind. "By the way," said Taris, "I have some good news concerning Vorden. He is doing remarkably well in his recovery. I have never seen such a strong-willed Norack lad. He almost has the resistance to Tharnin of a Grey Dwarf." Lannon was delighted by the news. "Will he ever fully recover?" "I don't know," said Taris. "He will probably always be plagued by darkness, but that wouldn't necessarily exclude him from returning to life as a Squire. Many servants of Dremlock, including myself, have been scarred by the Deep Shadow. Vorden will also likely possess strange abilities--unnatural strength and possibly other things--until the end of his days. The Hand of Tharnin changed him on the deepest levels, altering his body to make him a greater warrior. That sounds like a blessing, but it could also be a curse that he might come to despise. Life for him will be a harsh struggle." "Is there anything we can do to help him?" asked Aldreya. "Just give him friendship and ," said Taris, "for that is what he needs most. Visit him every day, if possible." "I'm going to go see him right now," said Lannon, rising. He raised the hood of his Watchman's cloak. "If I may be excused."

Taris nodded. "I have no more news for you." "Would anyone like to come along?" asked Lannon. "Out in the rain?" said Prince Vannas. "No thanks." "I would," said Aldreya, "but I'm tired from training. I need a bit of rest." No one else replied, and Lannon left the tent alone. *** Vorden sat alone in his tent, his yellow eyes gleaming in the shadows and standing out in stark contrast to his black clothing. He didn't glance at Lannon, but appeared lost in thought. His black hair had received a trim, and he now had a thin beard and mustache. His wrists and feet were bound in irons, though he could move his arms about without much difficulty. A jug of water and stack of books sat next to him. The tent's interior held a gloomy atmosphere--the presence of the Deep Shadow that still radiated from Vorden. Lannon sat down across from him and pulled back his dripping hood. "How are you feeling today, my friend?" Vorden gazed at him in silence for a moment, then said, "You're wet. Haven't you learned how to dry yourself?" Lannon shook his head. "I still haven't mastered common sorcery--not even a flicker of flame. I've given up on it." Vorden sighed. "Someone as powerful as you, Lannon, should not have to sit in wet clothes. Let me help." Vorden raised his hand and focused, and Lannon's body warmed. Steam rose from his cloak. Vorden smiled. "Are you surprised? Did you think these irons could contain my power?" Lannon wasn't surprised. "Taris knows of it. But he also knows you won't hurt anyone." "If so," said Vorden, "then why am I still in irons?"

Lannon had no answer. "You're improving, and I'm sure sooner or later you will be set free to resume your training." "As you can see," said Vorden, "my tent holds no lantern. Why? It's because I don't need one. I can see in the dark. I can do many strange things, Lannon. The power of Tharnin has cursed my body, yet the Deep Shadow itself has abandoned me. My power is just leftovers--created by an altered mind and body, like the power wielded by the sorcerers of ancient times. Surely it is forbidden by Dremlock. Jace learned that the hard way." Lannon had an answer for this. "Taris said that such sorcery is forbidden only if one seeks it--as Jace did. Some Olrogs have natural sorcery--like Galva's ability of Fire--that are leftover from ancient dealings with the Deep Shadow. The Grey Dwarves were altered like you have been, Vorden, yet they're allowed to be Divine Knights. You can't help what you are. As long as you use your power for honorable purposes, you won't be banished from the kingdom." "But that's the real issue, isn't it?" said Vorden. "There is still evil in my heart-whispers left from the Hand of Tharnin, as if the demon is still speaking to me. Until I am completely free of that, there is no way I will be allowed to go back to life as a Squire. I'm not sure I can ever be cleansed of it." "I don't know," said Lannon. He wanted to speak words of hope to Vorden, but he didn't want to give him false hope. "I'm glad you came to see me," said Vorden, "because I have a warning for you." He leaned forward. The shadows seemed to hang thick about his face, contrasting the gleam in his yellow eyes. "Tenneth Bard wants you dead--or in the clutches of the Deep Shadow like the Dark Watchmen of old. That's no secret. But there is a new creature that stalks you, something nearly immortal. It hunts you relentlessly." "What manner of creature?" asked Lannon, chilled by the conviction in Vorden's words. "And how do you know about it?" "It is a Goblin," said Vorden. "I couldn't bring myself to speak of it before, because the evil was blocking my attempts. This Goblin has existed on our continent of Gallamerth since the ancient war involving the Crimson Flamestone. It was a servant of the Barloak Demons that escaped into hiding after the war. It was one of several unique and extremely powerful Goblins."

Lannon shivered. His back suddenly felt very exposed, and he glanced behind him. "Why hasn't it attacked?" "It is a cunning and patient creature," said Vorden. "It will wait for the best opportunity to strike, like an expert assassin. It is also somewhat insane and cannot easily be controlled. The beast was being kept at Old Hammer Hall. Now it has been turned loose at last." Vorden gazed at Lannon for a moment, then said, "Tenneth Bard is winning the war against Dremlock. The beast is just another servant." "You think he is winning the war?" said Lannon, surprised. "Last I knew, we had defeated Bellis and the Blood Legion, and captured the Black Flamestone and the Hand of Tharnin. And..." He paused, not wanting to speak of Timlin Woodmaster's death. "Anyway, how exactly is Tenneth Bard winning the war?" Lannon was still hoping the Black Knight was actually dead and that Vorden was mistaken, but Vorden seemed so convinced that Tenneth Bard would return that Lannon didn't try to dispute him. Vorden smiled. "That was a tiny victory over Bellis. Surely you don't believe that's the end of the conflict. And Tenneth Bard is connected to Bellis' expansion somehow. I am certain of it." Lannon knew Vorden spoke true. Bellis had an enormous army and likely wouldn't let a loss in a small battle sway King Verlamer from trying to conquer Dremlock. But Lannon remained hopeful further conflict could be avoided. "Until Bellis is properly dealt with," said Vorden, "Tenneth Bard clearly has the upper hand. As I said before, he is still alive and he will return. He would love for you to serve him, but your death would also be a blessing for him. "Tell me more about the beast," said Lannon. "Is that what has been creeping around the campsite and has all the Knights on edge?" Vorden nodded. "That is our stalker, yes." "Do you know of any way I can defeat it?" asked Lannon. "No," said Vorden. "I wish I did."

Lannon rose, no longer inspired to chat. He wanted to take the new information to Taris. Vorden's yellow eyes suddenly looked sad rather than evil. "Soon we will depart for Kalamede. Without some amazing luck, Lannon, I fear you will be dead before we ever arrive." Lannon gazed at his friend for a moment, seeing the haunted expression and certainty on Vorden's face. He wanted to say something to dispute Vorden, but could think of no response. He left the tent in silence.

Chapter 2: The Visitor

Later that night, Lannon awoke to chaos in the camp--bloodcurdling screeching, horses whinnying, and the shouting of Dremlock's Knights. He seemed to be awake, but his eyelids wouldn't budge. He couldn't move a muscle. Lannon was flooded with panic, for he'd been in this situation before, with dark sorcery holding him paralyzed. He wondered if his stalker had at last made a move. He fought fiercely to break free, and when that failed, he sought to call upon the Eye of Divinity. But his power also eluded him. He was certain he was about to be attacked, and this time--without the ability to even open his eyes and glimpse his foe--he was sure he was doomed. He was seized by panic, his heart fluttering wildly. But then he could hear Aldreya's voice coming from above him. "I can't wake him," she muttered. "It's almost like he's dead. I'll give it one more try." She shook Lannon viciously. "Wake up!" Lannon remained unable to respond. If he wasn't being held by dark sorcery, then why couldn't he move? It made no sense. "Something is wrong with him," said Aldreya. "Perhaps he has suffered an injury of some sort." Lannon could feel her warm hand as she probed his skull. "No apparent head wound." The hand moved to his chest. "Leave him!" Prince Vannas commanded. "The Healers can look after him later. We're needed outside." Aldreya patted Lannon's shoulder. "Stay strong, if you can hear me. Rest assured the healers will take care of you." Lannon could hear them exit the tent, and he guessed he'd been left alone as the battle raged outside. He wondered if this was some sort of trick to draw the others away from him. His stalker was cunning, and perhaps his friends had fallen for a diversion. Now Lannon was alone and paralyzed, waiting for the

beast to rip its way into the tent and descend on him. Vorden's words echoed through Lannon's mind--his fear that Lannon would soon be dead. But the assassination attempt never came, and Lannon began to wonder if something else was going on. Again, he struggled fiercely to move. Then a shock surged through him and he suddenly broke free, rising to his feet. Glancing down, he saw his body still lying beneath its quilt, and it all became clear to him. It was the Eye of Dreams again, the power that allowed him to witness events like a ghost. Lannon was free for a moment to roam where he chose, beyond the reach of weapons or the elements. As far as he knew, nothing could harm him in that form. Yet the Eye of Dreams had a will of its own, and it could lead him wherever it felt the need. Lannon waited for a moment, frustrated by the poor timing. His camp was under attack and he could do nothing to help. He hoped the Eye of Dreams would finish its business quickly and then return him to his body. Nothing happened, however, and Lannon at last floated out of the tent, anxious to see how the battle was proceeding. He exited into a rain shower, which ed right through him. The camp was ablaze with Knightly sorcery, as winged shadows--Goblin Vultures--descended from the night sky. A massive flock of the beasts was circling over the camp. Lannon saw that several Knights and horses had already been bloodied in the attack. As clawed shadows swooped down, fireballs of varying color shot into the sky from sorcerers' blades--along with gleaming arrows from the archers and thick blasts of white fire from Prince Vannas' Flamestone. Hissing sparks bounced around the camp, as black smoke arose here and there. Burning and bleeding Vultures flopped around on the ground, as Knights hacked at them. A screech split the air directly above Lannon. A devilish humanoid face, with a mouth like a bloody gash, gazed down on him from a bloated body and leathery wings. The mouth split open wide, and a curved black beak--like a dagger-thrust out from it. The Vulture dove straight at him, and Lannon raised his hands on instinct. But the Vulture ed right through him and glided low over the ground toward Jerret Dragonsbane, whose back was to the creature. Lannon cried out a warning, even as he realized Jerret couldn't hear him. But Jerret somehow sensed the beast, and he whirled around and chopped off the Vulture's head. Jerret kicked the severed head away with a leather boot, his eyes

blazing as black blood on his blade was washed away by the rain. The Vulture's headless body flopped around for a moment before going still. Jerret looked more like a barbarian than a Divine Knight as he stood in the rain gazing skyward, his wet hair plastered to his forehead. He held his sword in both hands, and he shouted at the Vultures overhead, daring them to try their luck against him. Meanwhile, Jace stumbled past with three Vultures tearing at him, his long shadow falling upon Lannon. The giant sorcerer's face held a disgruntled look, as blood ran from a wound in his forehead. He held one Vulture by the neck, and he swatted at the others with his remaining hand. It was an odd sight, this enormous, shadowy, lurching figure being tormented by evil birds. Jace staggered off behind a tent and vanished. Lannon continued to watch helplessly as two Vultures descended on Lothrin. The Birlote Ranger shot one from the sky, but the other tore his bow away and then latched onto his chest, bearing him to the ground. Lothrin drew his dagger and stabbed the beast repeatedly, but it refused to let go. Finally, Lothrin shoved the wounded Vulture away and rose, his leather armor split open and his tunic beneath soaked in blood. He ran to retrieve his bow. Aldreya hurled blinding fireballs into the sky. Lannon could sense the vast power radiating from her. As Taris Warhawk's apprentice, her sorcery had reached new levels. She stood calmly in the pouring rain, with only her thick cloak for armor, her blazing dagger held at arm's length before her. Dead and dying Vultures dropped to the ground around her. Then Prince Vannas moved toward Lannon, the White Flamestone cupped in his hands. His eyes gleamed like the gem, and his lips were curled into an odd smile. The lean, handsome Birlote prince looked wicked in the pale glow with his pointed ears and chin. His silver hair rippled from the Flamestone's heat, and his skin looked pale and shadowy. Despite the great light he held, he seemed sinister--a dark figure bent on destruction. A shiver of fear ran down Lannon's spine, and he was frozen in place. He could only watch as Vannas raised the White Flamestone, the prince's eyes focused on Lannon--as if he could somehow sense him. Perhaps he thought Lannon was an invisible enemy. The Flamestone's glow intensified, and Lannon was certain he was about to be destroyed, for nothing could withstand the white fire. A blinding

burst of energy hurtled at Lannon--and ed harmlessly through him. With a sigh of relief, Lannon whirled around to see a cloud of black smoke where a Vulture had just been incinerated. Grinning, the Prince turned away to face another foe. Having finished off his attackers, Jace stepped back into view. He met with Taris a few yards away from Lannon. The two cloaked sorcerers stood face to face as the battle continued around them. "I sense this is some kind of diversion," said Taris. Jace shook his head. "No sign of anything but Vultures. I think they have come for the Flamestone. You should order the prince back into his tent before one of the nasty birds gets their claws on it." Taris nodded. "Sound advice." He turned and shouted orders to Vannas, but the prince ignored him. Vannas continued to blast white fire into the sky, as Vultures dove at him. The agile prince dodged them, and continued his gleeful blasting. The camp was aglow from the pale flames. Jace started forward, but Taris stopped him with a wave. "I'll handle this. You go check on Lannon. He may be the real target." Jace turned and started toward Lannon's tent, but he suddenly paused for a moment, and his piercing gaze fell upon Lannon. Lannon stared at the towering sorcerer in shock. Was Jace actually seeing him? Lannon glanced behind him, but there was nothing there that would have caught Jace's eye. Surely Jace was looking right at him! Then Jace strode on past and entered the tent. Soft, mocking laughter reached Lannon's ears through the sounds of battle and raindrops. He turned about, trying to pinpoint where it had come from. He sensed it had emerged from a nearby grove of oaks beyond the campsite, nestled in the grassland, and he was compelled to float off in that direction. When the Eye of Dreams chose to seize control of him, he was a helpless puppet that could be sent anywhere. But he didn't want to go. As he was pulled along, shivers of dread ran over his flesh. Something horrific awaited him amongst the oaks, something that was aware of his presence and was calling to him. It was well hidden by the trees, its energy binding with the roots, trunks, and branches and making it almost part of the grove. It was the master of wherever it chose to lurk.

Lannon fought fiercely against the power of the Eye of Dreams, but he could not slow his progress. There was no resisting his captor even in the slightest. He found himself hating the Eye of Dreams--useful though it was--for the way it ordered him around. As he closed in on the great black trunks and gnarled branches, the evil laughter drifted out again to greet him. "What do you want?" Lannon called out. The laughter intensified and became a snort. "Just you, spirit wanderer. Just you! I want you, who walks through fire and rain untouched. I want the floating boy who cannot be harmed yet fears death at every turn, the ghost who dreads the world." "I don't understand," said Lannon, as he hovered at the edge of the trees. "What would you want with a ghost?" The trees groaned and swayed, as if from the wind. Lightning flashed in the distance, and the rain fell harder. Yellow eyes gazed out from between two trunks, and then a huge, dark form slunk forward. It was some kind of monstrous, crouching wolf. The Eye of Dreams allowed Lannon to view the creature in detail, and what he saw seemed to freeze his soul. The Wolf was immensely strong, muscles rippling over bones that had the endurance of those of a Dragon. The flesh beneath its bristly black fur was almost impenetrable by most weapons and could knit together rapidly when damaged. Dark sorcery infested the beast, adding further layers of protection. Despite being larger than a Greywind horse, the Wolf could move as quietly as a mouse when it wanted to and could make itself unseen to most. Its yellow eyes were set in a broad and wrinkled face, and its jaws hung open in a devilish grin. Like the Great Dragon and the Tharnin Specter, this was a foe of unimaginable power, and Lannon wondered why he wasn't dead already. It seemed the Wolf could have simply charged his tent and crushed him in his sleep. But he sensed that it feared the White Flamestone--which was perhaps the only thing that could threaten it. He also sensed it was a bit insane, and in no hurry to finish him off. It wanted to play games with him. "I'm hungry," said the Wolf, its voice a disembodied whisper that came from all around Lannon. "Each night, at midnight to be precise, you will bring me all the food you can carry."

"No, I won't," Lannon insisted. "I don't feed my enemies." The Wolf's muzzle curled back to reveal oversized teeth. "You will feed me, Lannon Sunshield--and bring me wine, as well, and a bowl to drink it from. You will see. I have planted the seed in your mind that will carry you into a dream." The yellow eyes shone hypnotically, and Lannon couldn't seem to look away. The Wolf nodded its huge head. "Yes, I shall enjoy this." "Enjoy what?" Lannon asked. "Your slow and bitter destruction," came the reply. "And some good Birlote wine. You will not forget my wine!" "Prince Vannas will destroy you," Lannon promised. "That fool of a prince," said the Wolf, "will destroy himself beneath the cold moon. I need not worry about him. I'm interested in you, Dark Watchman. I've dealt with your kind before. Your blade is bitter, but your heart is conflicted. You could destroy me, but you won't unlock the answers. You're too young and naive." "If not Vannas," said Lannon, "then Taris will know how to defeat you." The Wolf yawned and stretched, its bones making cracking noises. The black fur rippled over its body, as if each strand of hair was under its control. Its spine was a sharp ridge of bone along its back, almost like a blade. The beast's ribs protruded in the same fashion. Its claws were also oversized, sprawled out over tree roots, and drool dripped from its long, curved teeth. It was like a bizarre, exaggerated mockery of a normal wolf that some frightened child's mind might have dreamed up. In a way, it was almost comical in appearance, but its aura was so deadly and powerful it demanded to be taken seriously. "I've seen it all before, little man," the Wolf replied. "Yet they're all dead--long dead, in fact--and I'm still alive and strong. I came here to create victory for Tharnin, and I will finish my task." "Dremlock will slay you," Lannon mumbled, not sure of what else to say. His promise sounded weak to his ears.

"You are just a puppet," laughed the Wolf, "who will bring me wine. I will feast like a king while you waste away. Now leave me!" Its whispers became unintelligible for a moment, as if spoken in some dreadful language of the Deep Shadow, and finally Lannon could make out the words of a chant:

"Beneath the moon, beneath the moon, "the devil prince did fall... Beneath the moon, beneath the moon, grins in Old Hammer Hall... Beneath the moon, beneath the moon, the key to Dremlock's wall..."

Then Lannon was yanked away, back into his sleeping body. *** Lannon awoke in his tent, in the flesh, and this time he was able to move his body. He rose and belted on his Dragon sword, then rushed outside to find Jace standing guard by the tent. Two dead vultures lay at Jace's feet, and the sorcerer was casually smoking his pipe, keeping one huge hand over it to shield it from the rain. A hissing bonfire nearby burned with green flames, and Knights were tossing dead birds into the blaze. The stench of smoldering Goblin flesh hung about the camp. Meanwhile, wounded Knights and horses were being tended to by the healers. The sky was empty save for the falling rain. Jace glanced at Lannon and nodded. Jace's hood hung low over his forehead to shield him from the rain, his broad face lost in shadows beneath. "Welcome back, young dreamer. You have slept through the battle." "I need to speak to Taris," said Lannon, his legs a bit unsteady beneath him. His mind still seemed lost in a dream, a feeling of unreality hanging over him like a

fog. He still felt detached from the real world. Lannon's friends--with the exception of Prince Vannas, who was nowhere to be seen--caught sight of him and hurried over. "I thought you were ill!" said Aldreya, looking relieved. "What happened?" Her silver hair hung in wet tangles and her cloak was streaked with mud. She still held her stone dagger unsheathed, indicating the battle had ended only moments before. "Your face does look rather pale, Lannon," said Lothrin. The Birlote Ranger kept one hand pressed to his chest, where his leather armor had been ripped through and the flesh torn beneath. "I imagine mine does as well, considering I've lost a bit of blood. I'll be fine, though." "Don't worry about it, Lannon," said Galvia, sighing as she leaned on her war hammer. Her muscles bulged with tension beneath her grey skin, still eager for combat even though there was none to be found. "I didn't get to strike a blow either. The Vultures wouldn't come near me." "They were probably terrified of you," said Jerret, winking at her. The big, blond-haired lad was the dirtiest of them all, his cloak saturated with muck and blood. His cheek bore an ugly wound from a Vulture's beak that was sure to leave a scar that Jerret would be proud of. He'd fought fiercely, almost like a man, still determined to prove he belonged with the group of elite young Knights. "Do you need a healer, Lannon?" asked Lothrin. Lannon shook his head. "I'm okay. But you should probably seek one for that chest wound, my friend." "I can tend to my own wounds," said Lothrin. "I did it for years, and for wounds much greater than this--yet I'm healthy as can be." Lannon smiled. "That's the Ranger side of you talking." "But you do look quite pale, Lannon," said Aldreya, "like you've experienced something terrible. I sense...a cold darkness around you." "Probably that Eye of Divinity stuff," muttered Jerret, with a dismissive wave. "Fine by me. With Lannon asleep, I got to kill more Vultures."

Lannon wasn't surprised that his face looked pale, as the memory of the Wolf kept flashing through his mind. He glanced toward the oak grove and shuddered, wondering if the encounter had even been real. How had the Wolf been able to see and communicate with him? If Vorden spoke true, the Wolf was a living Goblin and it shouldn't have been able to talk to a spirit. Obviously, the beast possessed powerful sorcery and there was no telling what it was capable of. Jace placed his hand on Lannon's shoulder. "This young Knight is healthy enough, but I'm guessing he has quite a tale to tell." "Indeed," said Lannon, shivering. "Quite a tale." Trenton Shadowbane strode over to Lannon. The Investigator smoothed back his short grey hair, a look of disapproval on his weathered face. His green cloak was tattered from Vulture claws. He sheathed his sword. "And where were you, young man, while the rest of us were fighting for our lives in the mud and rain? Surely you didn't sleep through all that noise." "It was the Eye of Dreams," Lannon explained. "I wanted to help, but I wasn't able to wake up." Even as he spoke, he knew that some of the Knights would think his absence from the combat was cowardly. Many regarded Lannon as a hero, but some perceived him as a weakling who failed to live up to his potential and who had sympathy for the enemy. Taris Warhawk and Furlus Goblincrusher were amongst those who felt Lannon was a courageous warrior and a great asset to Dremlock, while Trenton often seemed to doubt him. "The Eye of Dreams," said Trenton, with a disdainful expression. "Well, I hope that Eye of Dreams business doesn't keep you out of every battle. We didn't bring you to Dremlock to sleep through the conflicts." "Of course not," said Lannon, unable to keep the irritation out of his voice. "When have I ever shied away from combat?" Trenton frowned. "You have a bit of a reputation for disliking violence, Lannon. You're not someone most consider to be an eager warrior." "Lannon doesn't spare Goblins," said Jerret. "You should know that by now, Trenton. Give him a bit of slack." Lannon smiled at Jerret in gratitude.

"People change," said Trenton. "They grow weary of battle and lose their nerve. I've seen it happen many times." Muttering to himself, he walked away. "Annoying as ever," Jerret snarled, watching Trenton depart. "Why can't he just keep his mouth shut and go about his business?" Aldreya smiled at Lannon. "You're definitely no coward, my friend. It takes guts to do what you did at Old Hammer Hall and..." She chose not to speak of Timlin's death. "You're the best fighter in camp, Lannon," said Galvia. "That's a fact. Not even Furlus could defeat you in battle." "I don't know about that," Lannon mumbled, his face growing warm with embarrassment. "I doubt I would be a match for Furlus." Galvia laughed. "Maybe not, but you get the point. You're a courageous warrior, and don't let anyone tell you otherwise." "This has nothing to do with courage," said Jace, giving Lannon's shoulder a friendly shake. "This has to do with sorcery--the Eye of Dreams." He lowered his voice and added, "As a sorcerer himself, Trenton should know better, but I think he enjoys being sullen and antagonistic. I guess we all need ways to amuse ourselves." "Where is Taris?" asked Lannon, feeling uncomfortable with all the scrutiny. "I should talk to him right away." "Taris has returned to his tent," Jace said. "He seemed in a foul mood, and was dragging our good prince along by his cloak." "Perhaps you should wait," said Jerret, with a chuckle. "Vannas is overdue for a tongue lashing and I don't want you to interrupt it." Lannon shook his head. "This is too important." *** When Lannon stepped into Taris' tent, the Birlote sorcerer and Prince Vannas were drinking tea. Taris motioned for Lannon to sit, and then poured him a cup.

After Lannon had seated himself, Taris waved his hand in Lannon's direction and Lannon's cloak dried instantly, steam filling the tent. "I'm getting better at the use of fire," said Taris, with a smile. He handed Lannon his tea. "It has taken a long time and a lot of hard work to master it, but as you can see, the rewards are great." "I still can't even make a blade burn," Lannon muttered. Taris shrugged. "It is not your way. None of the Dark Watchmen were adept at the use of fire. They carried matches with them." "Vorden was able to dry my cloak just as easily," said Lannon, wondering if Vorden's sorcery rivaled that of the Tower Master. "His connection to fire is still very strong," said Taris. "The demon in the Hand of Tharnin was like a raging furnace--and the flames linger in Vorden's soul. Eventually, that ability of his should diminish." Prince Vannas sat with his head bowed, looking sullen. He'd barely glanced at Lannon. His teacup was still full. "Lannon, before you tell me why you've come," said Taris, "I want to take a moment to lecture the two of you. I have already chastised the prince for putting himself in danger and risking losing the White Flamestone. You are both obligated to take extraordinary measures to protect yourselves. You're not simple Knights, but vital elements to the survival of Dremlock Kingdom." "Have I done something wrong, Master Taris?" asked Lannon. "No, this is just a lecture," said Taris. "Something you both need to hear." "But Lothrin has put me on edge," said Vannas. "He continues to question me in private about my qualifications to wield the Flamestone. He accuses me of being an unfit warrior. While it's true that half the time I dread using the gem, the other half I take great pride and even joy in it. I am somewhat weary and confused, but I still have the will to fight for Dremlock." This was news to Lannon. He'd assumed the issue between Vannas and Lothrin was settled and that they were getting along fine.

Taris nodded. "Lothrin doesn't trust you. He has seen how the Flamestone has affected you, and it worries him. Perhaps he feels he has a stronger mind than you and should therefore be the one who possesses the gem." "That's exactly right," Vannas said, with a tired sigh. "He keeps hinting that I should give it to him, that it would be for my own good. He believes I am losing myself to it, like Timlin Woodmaster did to the Black Flamestone. And truth be told, sometimes I wonder if he's right. Sometimes I don't know who I am anymore. I hate to part with the Flamestone for even a moment, but I often wonder if I should get rid of it and never look upon it again." "The vast power has changed you," said Taris, "on the deepest levels. It is more power than a mortal was meant to handle--especially so suddenly. There are real risks to wielding it. But Dremlock Kingdom desperately needs you, young Knight. You were the one chosen by the Divine Essence, and you must find a way to overcome your fears and doubts. Not even Lothrin can unlock the Flamestone's power to the degree that you are capable of. If we're going to win this war against the Deep Shadow, we need you to act like Olzet Ka did with the Crimson Flamestone so long ago when he drove the Barloak demons back to Tharnin." "But Olzet Ka was a mighty king," said Vannas, "and I am just a young prince. He was also a great Wizard, whereas I know little of the ways of magic. How could I ever hope to do what he did?" Lannon was impressed. Seldom did he hear Vannas express such doubts. Usually the prince was arrogant to the extreme. Lannon could relate to Vannas' concerns, for he felt similar pressure in having to live up to the lofty standards of the Dark Watchmen. "Olzet Ka wasn't perfect," said Taris. "He had flaws and weaknesses, and he doubted himself at times. But he held together and did what needed to be done. That is all Dremlock asks of you, oh prince--that you compose yourself long enough for us to strike a solid blow to the Deep Shadow." Vannas nodded. "I just wish Lothrin would leave me alone. Can you talk to him, Master Taris? Tell him to mind his own affairs?" "I could," said Taris, "but Lothrin is part of the Divine Shield and is allowed to have his say. It would be a violation of the Sacred Laws for me to silence him. If

it bothers you so much, simply ignore him." Vannas glanced at Lannon. "What about you? Lothrin respects you. Can you get him to leave me be?" Lannon hesitated, feeling uncomfortable for being put on the spot. "I'm not sure. We can certainly discuss the issue amongst ourselves, but Aldreya is actually in charge of our group, in case you've forgotten." Taris nodded. "Yes, take the issue to Aldreya, Vannas. Let her decide how to proceed. This will be a good test for her leadership. From now on you young Knights will be called...the Grey Keepers, in relation to Lannon's connection with the Dark Watchmen. The Grey Keepers were servants and assistants of the Watchmen. Prince Vannas, you will be second in command, and Lannon will be third. Bear in mind that you will be bound by the Sacred Laws." Vannas frowned. "If we are Lannon's assistants, why then is he not in charge? Won't it appear that you are favoring Birlotes?" Lannon said nothing, but he was grateful Vannas had asked that question. His position as third in command seemed illogical. "Perhaps," said Taris, shrugging. "As a Dark Watchman, Lannon already has prominence and authority amongst the Divine Knights. And with that comes increased responsibility." He fixed his gaze on Lannon. "I don't want you to bear too many burdens right now. And like it or not, Vannas and Aldreya are of the royal family and require some amount of special treatment. They were trained from birth in understanding battle tactics and leadership. Also, Aldreya is my apprentice, and I see her more often than the rest of you. I am able to discuss secrets with her that are forbidden to others. Therefore, she is best suited to lead this group." Lannon bowed. "That's fine, Master Taris. I don't mind being third in command. I agree that Prince Vannas and Aldreya should be ranked above me. I haven't had a fraction of the training they have had." Taris smiled. "With that attitude, Lannon, you will go far in life. Just bear in mind that even though you are third in command, the others are still Grey Keepers and your assistants. That means they must work with you as needed for the good of Dremlock. They must defend your life. You are the core of the

group, Lannon." "But not the leader," mused Vannas. "You will find," said Taris, "that leadership by appointment isn't everything. On the battlefield, many Knights will rally around one who is not the official leader but who fights valiantly and inspires deep loyalty. It is your loyalty to Lannon-not your obedience--that makes him the core of the group." "Of course," said Vannas. "I will always look after my good friend, to my last breath." "Furthermore, Lannon," Taris went on, "as Grey Keepers your friends may accompany you wherever you go, including the Watchmen's Keep. That fortress is now their home as well. As a Tower Master of Dremlock, and first in command of this battalion, I have the authority to make this official. Tell the others what I've told you here." "Do we need to swear an oath?" asked Vannas. "Not at this time," said Taris. "By my command, you are now Grey Keepers. If one of you wishes to leave the group--aside from you, Lannon--you may state your case to Furlus or myself and we may grant your request." "Thank you, Master Taris," said Lannon, wishing this topic would end so he could discuss the incident with the Wolf. His stomach was unsettled with anxiety over the encounter and he longed for Taris' advice. Taris gazed sternly at Lannon. "Now you may tell me what's on your mind. What did the Eye of Dreams show you this time?" "How did you know?" asked Lannon. He realized it was a stupid question. This was Taris Warhawk, the greatest sorcerer outside of Borenthia. Lannon went on to describe the encounter in detail. But he couldn't something the Wolf had told him about food. Had the Wolf been hungry? Lannon wasn't sure. The memory was too foggy to unlock. "A talking Wolf," mused Vannas. "It didn't actually talk," said Lannon. "At least not with its mouth. The words

seemed to come from around me...or maybe inside my head." "Another intelligent Goblin," said Taris, "only this one is very ancient and powerful. Great misfortune has befallen you, Lannon, to attract a beast like this. It won't be easy to defeat." "Surely the White Flamestone can kill it," said Vannas. "It is not that simple," said Taris. "A Goblin like this uses stealth and cunning. It is as swift as the wind and as quiet as a shadow. This is certainly one of the most dangerous foes we have ever faced--and just like the Great Dragon and the Tharnin Specter, it is unstable. No doubt our enemies can barely control it. It appears they haven't yet learned their lesson in dealing with such monsters." "What can I do?" asked Lannon. "If it attacks," said Taris, "your best hope is to elude it. It may be fast, but so are you. Don't attempt to fight it--until you feel confident you can win. I will consult with Jace and try to devise a trap for it. If we can get it in a solid snare, we can kill it. This will require much thought and meditation." "The Specter nearly destroyed the Blood Legion," said Lannon. "Why would they be so foolish in unleashing another unstable creature?" Taris shrugged. "I don't know, but we must bear in mind that the Blood Legion isn't our greatest threat. It is Bellis that could defeat us in the long run. The Blood Legion has already been severely damaged by its own folly and has nothing to lose by taking another gamble. And it appears the once proud Legion is now nothing but a smaller extension of Bellis anyway--slaves to the king." "Perhaps a few more guards are needed," said Lannon, "with the Wolf creeping about. Maybe it would be wise to surround our tent with them." Taris shook his head. "More guards are not the answer, Lannon. The Wolf would scatter them like leaves, if it chose to attack. It is fear of the White Flamestone that keeps it at bay, which is why I want Prince Vannas at your side at all times until we can set a worthy trap." Vannas bowed. "I shall be Lannon's shadow, Master Taris."

"Have some more tea," said Taris. "Take a moment to relax before you return to your tent. We have much to ponder, but it can wait. Tomorrow we ride for Kalamede, a dangerous city were Divine Knights are not always respected." "Will the Wolf kill me, Master Taris?" asked Lannon. The words seemed to slip out on their own. Taris hesitated, then said, "A creature like that is not satisfied to simply kill one enemy. It will try to bring everyone to ruin. When it said it was seeking your slow and bitter destruction, it likely meant exactly that. But you're a Dark Watchman now, Lannon, and you must learn to outsmart even your most cunning foes. You must make the Deep Shadow tremble in terror at the mention of your name or the sight of your blade clearing its sheath."

Chapter 3: A Spy in Dremlock

It was a quiet, cold evening at Dremlock Kingdom. The Temple fireplace was lit, and flickering shadows bobbed and weaved on the walls. Cordus Landsaver stood with his back to the altar, and the rest of the High Council sat on benches. The Lord Knight gazed at the tense faces bathed in the crimson glow of Birlote torches, and once again he wished his Tower Masters were present. He often felt alone and outnumbered lately. The Temple setting helped ease his mind, however. This was where Dremlock conducted its most secret meetings, with the solitary building and thick stone walls making any attempt at spying nearly impossible. And there was no area of Dremlock Cordus loved more than the Sacred Temple. This was where he felt most at home and closest to Dremlock's god and protector, the Divine Essence that lay below the stone floor in its chamber of crystal. "Bellis will attack us again," said Cordus. "Only a fool would believe otherwise. This meeting is about how best to prepare for it." "The answer is simple," said Krissana Windsword. "To have any chance of defending this kingdom against Bellis, we need the White Flamestone. It is folly to have it roaming around. It should be kept within these walls." She gazed sternly at Cordus with her striking green eyes. A famed archer and a member of the royal family, her youthful appearance concealed her true age (which was greater than that of most living Noracks) and experience. She wore a green cloak of Birlote silk, and her silver hair was set in elegant braids. As Krissana gazed at Cordus, he could feel the weight of the Birlote empire bearing down him on. Dremlock depended on the Birlotes for many resources, and Krissana's opinion was never to be taken lightly. He shifted about uncomfortably, then glanced at Vesselin Hopebringer. "I very much agree," said Vesselin, the ancient Lord of the White Knights. "It should be brought here at once, along with the Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone. If Taris Warhawk's army is defeated, those items will end up in enemy hands--and then I fear Dremlock will be doomed."

"We can send forth our Dark Knights to aid Taris," said Barlow Whitesword, yawning. The stocky, balding warrior and Lord of the Brown Knights looked weary this evening. He'd laid his shield (which he always carried with him at night) on the floor, and he slouched on the bench. "Why keep some of our most powerful fighters down in the mines? These Grey Dwarves are masters of siege warfare and combat tactics. They are best used for attack, and should be sent forth." "I strongly disagree," said Krissana. "The Dark Knights are needed here. This is where Bellis will strike, and it will take all of our resources to have even a slight chance of keeping our wall from being breached." Barlow yawned again, then shook his head as if to clear it. "My apologies, but I'm exhausted from my duties lately. I wish Furlus were here to help ease my burdens. But yes, you make a good point, Krissana." Cordus frowned. "And what of Kalamede and the Ironheart Priests? Those foul wretches are laying waste to the city. We depend on Kalamede for many of our resources." "Is the White Flamestone truly needed to secure Kalamede?" said Krissana. "Surely our Knights can deal with those Priests. Can't you see the truth, Cordus? The trouble in Kalamede is most likely a diversion to lure Taris and his army-and especially the White Flamestone--farther away from Dremlock. Once the White Flamestone is in Kalamede, and Taris is bogged down in combat, Bellis will march to our gates and lay siege." The Lord Knight hesitated, then gulped some wine. A bit of it ran down his beard, and he casually wiped it away with his sleeve. The High Council knew he took comfort in his flask. They knew it was a weakness, but there were far bigger concerns than the character failings of Dremlock's leader--as long as Cordus continued to show he could handle the kingdom's affairs. His trouble with wine could be addressed later, after the threat of Bellis was dealt with. "Well, what say you?" Krissana pressed. "Kalamede's City Council is quite desperate," said Cordus. "They believe the threat will not be easily dealt with and could be part of some grand plot of Tharnin. The White Flamestone will be needed. In fact, I think we should send the Dark Knights as well."

Krissana shook her head in disbelief. "And leave Dremlock so unprotected? That seems like pure folly." "Bellis has not made a move yet," said Cordus. "I believe we should proceed with the mission to Kalamede until something changes. Our spies will notify us if Bellis is preparing to march, and then Taris' forces can hurry back here. Rest assured that we will win the race." "It is very risky," said Barlow. "If our spies are captured or killed, we might lose the advantage. Bellis would get here first." "Yet not securing Kalamede is also very risky," said Cordus. He smiled. "And I have some good news as well. Borenthia has opted to send three-hundred Birlote archers to help secure Dremlock. These are elite fighters from the king's army. They should be arriving in about a week." Krissana smiled. "This is wonderful news! And quite unexpected." "Very impressive," said Barlow. "That makes me feel a lot better about sending the White Flamestone to Kalamede." "It still troubles me," said Vesselin, "to keep the Flamestone beyond Dremlock's walls. But I suppose that nowhere is it truly safe from our enemies. I trust Taris to look after it, and the situation in Kalamede demands our attention." "My opinion has changed," said Krissana, a proud look on her face. "The Birlote archers will be immensely helpful in defending this kingdom. Yes, I believe we can allow for the mission to Kalamede." "And what of the Dark Knights?" asked Cordus. "I would like to send our ten best to Kalamede. Just ten, mind you." "You speak of the Ten Axes," said Krissana. "They are arrogant and wild, and could make trouble for the other Knights." "They are mighty warriors," said Cordus, "on the level of Furlus himself, if you ask me. Yet they spend their days battling Goblins. We could put them to much better use. Much of the fighting in Kalamede will likely take place in the tunnels below the city. These Dwarves are masters of tunnel warfare and disabling traps. So, do we all agree on this?"

"I'm in favor of it," said Krissana, still beaming over news that her king had sent some of his best archers. "Thanks to the generosity of my king, we will be able to fortify Dremlock and deal with the Ironheart Priests." "I am in favor as well," said Barlow. "Let us hope we secure Kalamede quickly. Once that task is done, I believe it will be time to bring all of our forces back to Dremlock to prepare for Bellis." Vesselin sighed. "I'm in favor, but under mild protest. I believe Bellis will strike while Taris is in Kalamede. I just hope our spies will alert us." "Noted," said Cordus, with a grin. "And our spies do not fail, old friend." He took a celebratory drink. "Now we are moving in a positive direction! Let's get to the next topic. Barlow, you had something you wanted to show me?" Barlow held up an object in the torchlight. Cordus' eyes widened in disgust at the thing he gazed upon. It appeared to be a large, white eyeball with crimson veins running through it. The black pupil within moved about, as if studying Cordus from head to toe. "Yesterday," said Barlow, "one of our archers shot down a Vulture that was carrying this object in its claws over Dremlock. We believe this is some type of Goblin, incapable of moving about--an eyeball used for spying. It seems to be completely harmless, aside from its spying potential--though it could have hidden abilities. We suspect it sees things in extraordinary detail and re them. Later, it somehow communicates that information to our foes." "If it possesses knowledge of our secrets," said Cordus, "then it must never be allowed back into enemy hands. Yet clearly there is a need to study it. Hand it over to me and I will place it in our most secure vault." Something about the sight of the creature ignited Cordus' temper. He longed to punish the foul creature for daring to spy on his kingdom. He didn't actually care if it was studied or not, and he couldn't wait to slam the vault door on it and leave it in darkness. Barlow frowned. "We're not completely sure it isn't dangerous, Lord Knight. Perhaps we should study it a bit more first." Cordus struggled to fight down rising irritation, even as his gaze was drawn to the eyeball. His temper was quick to get the best of him whenever he felt his

independence challenged. "I can protect myself if need be!" he snapped. "I am the Lord Knight, after all. And I say that Spy, if you will, should be sealed in the Sacred Vault. It is too dangerous to be carried around this kingdom." "Agreed," said Vesselin Hopebringer. "Let Cordus lock the repulsive thing away, before it can make any further mischief. We have studied this Goblin in detail. It has no mouth or other means of inflicting damage. It eats by absorption, and no poisons or venoms have been detected within it. The sorcery it possesses only enhances its vision. As far as we can tell, it is simply a creature that views and re things. All of its abilities are focused around spying." "But Barlow is right," said Krissana. "It may possess hidden abilities. I suggest we leave it in the hands of our sorcerers for further study." "Nonsense!" Cordus growled. He couldn't seem to tear his gaze away from the vile Goblin. "I will deal with it myself. My Tower Masters and I are the only ones with access to the Sacred Vault. This Goblin must be locked away, out of sight and mind, where our foes can never retrieve it." Barlow hesitated, then handed it to Cordus. The Lord Knight gazed down at the hideous eyeball, watching the crimson veins pulse with life. The Spy gazed back at him with sudden intensity. It felt cold and slimy in his hands. "Your time has run out, little Goblin," Cordus muttered to the Spy. "You shall never see daylight again." He shoved the Spy into his cloak pocket. Barlow gazed at Cordus with deep concern. "If I may move to a different topic," said Krissana, "have you summoned the Ten Axes? I would like to hear their view on the situation." Cordus nodded. "They should be gathered outside the Temple by now." "Before you call them in," said Krissana, "are you certain this is a wise move? If I make speak bluntly, these Olrog fighters have little respect for the Sacred Laws. They are barbarians best suited to guarding the mines." "They are wild in spirit," Cordus itted, "but they are very loyal to Furlus. He will keep them in line. And they know their duty is to serve this kingdom. Honor demands that they fight for Dremlock."

Reluctantly, Krissana nodded. "Very well. Summon them." The Lord Knight called the ten Olrog Dark Knights into the chamber. They shuffled in with a clanking of armor and stood by the altar--a wall of beards, muscle, Glaetherin breastplates and shields, and oversized battle axes. Their black armor was adorned with ancient Dwarven runes in gold depicting love of warfare. Their beards were set in twisted braids called a Death Knot, and their cheeks and foreheads were tattooed with more runes that represented doom to their foes. Aside from Furlus Goblincrusher, these were the strongest Knights in Dremlock. Their knowledge of battle tactics was unsured, yet they preferred to dwell deep underground in the mines, offering strategic advice only when they saw fit. They were arrogant fighters from the Kingdom of Fallenrock in the Olrog Mountains, who believed themselves superior to all others (especially the Birlotes). They were not actually Divine Knights, but warriors on loan from their king. "The Council has decided," said Cordus, "that the Ten Axes shall ride for Kalamede. There, you will with Taris Warhawk's battalion and receive orders from Furlus Goblincrusher. We ask this of you because the ages below Kalamede are likely to be heavily trapped and filled with cunning enemies, and your considerable skills will be required." The leader of the Ten Axes, named Valedos Firehelm, nodded. His face was scarred from a forge accident that had also claimed part of his beard that would never grow back through the scars--a shame and rage that drove him to insanity when in combat whenever he was mocked for his appearance. He wore a full set of Glaetherin armor that didn't seem to weigh him down in the least. "We will go and serve Furlus, and the tunnels below Kalamede will be cleansed in blood." *** After everyone had left the Temple, Cordus withdrew the Spy from his cloak and sat gazing at it, wondering what secrets it held. He wished Taris and Jace were present to help him unlock those secrets. Dremlock's foes were cunning, and no evil was too wretched for them to explore, no experiment too sinister to be carried out as long as Tharnin Law permitted it. Cordus held a true horror in his hand--a monster no doubt created by the Tharnin alchemists. The Lord Knight's instinct was to crush the Spy, and he had to struggle to keep from doing so.

"You thought you could expose our secrets," Cordus said. "But you'll never get the chance. You will wither away in darkness." Grinning, Cordus drank deeply from his flask, savoring the potent Birlote wine. It made him dizzy, but it also seemed to invigorate his soul and make his burdens seem lighter. The eyeball quivered in response, the dark pupil moving about. The feel of the eyeball grew so repulsive that Cordus laid the Spy on a bench and pulled his hand away. He slammed his fist down next to the eyeball. "Goblin wretch! You cannot deceive the Lord Knight!" He glanced about, his vision blurred from the wine. He realized he was acting like a fool, and he was glad no one was there to see it. He bowed his head, wondering what had gotten into him. Was it the wine, or something more sinister? The Spy seemed to be affecting him somehow, fueling his rage. Perhaps it did indeed possess hidden sorcery. Cordus wondered if the Mad King of Bellis, Verlamer Kessing, was behind this new breed of Goblin. Supposedly, Bellis had no dealings with the children of the Deep Shadow, yet Cordus didn't believe it. If Bellis could align itself with the Blood Legion, then it could align itself with Goblins. Bellis was always on Cordus' mind lately, filling him with paranoia. Everything was a plot of Bellis until proven otherwise. The Lord Knight slept little, prayed much, and spent his days pondering maps and messages in an effort to figure out King Verlamer's next move. Cordus kept the truth well hidden (unless his love of wine told the tale) that he often doubted himself when it came to leading Dremlock to victory. He hated the name he'd chosen of Landsaver for it seemed to add to his burdens. How was he supposed to save the land from a kingdom that had grown monstrously large by feeding off the corpses of the kingdoms it had conquered? The Lord Knight guzzled more wine and tried to push such thoughts from his mind. The Spy seemed to mock him somehow, and Cordus considered drawing his sword and ending its wretched existence right there. He realized the Goblin should never have been brought into the Sacred Temple. It was an abomination before the Altar of the Divine Essence. Moments later, Barlow Whitesword entered the chamber and approached Cordus. He was much shorter than the Lord Knight, and stood looking up at him. "I...I came back to talk to you about the Spy, Cordus. I don't think it is safe for you to be in possession of that Goblin. At first I thought it was harmless, but my

instincts are now warning me of danger. Will you allow me to summon our sorcerers?" "We already discussed this issue," said Cordus. "After I finish my drink, I'm going to carry the Goblin directly to the Sacred Vault. That will be the end of it. We shall let it die in the vault." Barlow glanced at the eyeball and grimaced. "Please don't lay hands on it again, Cordus. There is something dreadfully wrong going on here. I think this may be an assassination plot. I should never have brought the Spy to the meeting. Now I fear my mistake will end in disaster." Cordus smiled and patted Barlow on the shoulder. "You're allowing your fears to rule your mind, my friend. Nothing is going to happen." Barlow choked up with emotion. "If my foolish move causes your death..." For an instant, Cordus almost considered giving in to Barlow's request. The Lord of the Brown Knights seemed so sincere in his emotions that Cordus was taken aback. But then, as Cordus again gazed at the Spy, his anger returned. "The sorcerers will keep it alive and study it. I'm thinking that's too good a fate for this wretch. To die in darkness--where it can see nothing--is only fitting." With a groan, Barlow threw down his shield and slumped onto a bench. "There is no convincing you, I see. You're far too stubborn to begin with, and that wine makes you impossible." "You're tired," said Cordus. "Go and get some..." He let his words trail off in surprise. The Spy had begun to swell, the crimson veins turning blue. Dark tension filled the air--a warning that evil sorcery was at work. "Flee!" Cordus shouted at Barlow, but it was too late. The Spy exploded in a blast of dark energy. The blast was so potent that Barlow Whitesword was killed before he ever knew what hit him. As the energy wave struck Cordus Landsaver, his shining Glaetherin breastplate-charged with divine power that drew any attacks into it--absorbed most of the energy. Nevertheless, the Lord Knight was flung across the chamber and into the wall. He fought to remain conscious, but his mind slipped into the void.

Chapter 4: The Prince and the Thief

Lannon awoke to a misty dawn. The rain had stopped beating down on the tent roof, leaving a silence that Lannon found eerie. Sitting up, he saw that Aldreya and Lothrin were absent. He rose and peered out of the tent, to find that daylight was just beginning to reach over the fog-shrouded grassland. He heard a yawn, turned, and saw Prince Vannas had sat up and was stretching his arms. "Good morning," said the prince, in a cheerful voice. He rubbed his shoulder. "That was quite a battle last night. It left me rather sore." He chuckled. "And to think that a flock of bloated, sheep-stealing birds could cause so much chaos." Lannon nodded. "I'm surprised I slept, all things considered." He was referring to his encounter with the Wolf. The Vulture attack meant little to him. Lannon was used to being ambushed. Vannas frowned. "I would assume Aldreya has begun her training early--but I wonder where Lothrin is. I don't understand why the guards let him roam freely. I realize he is not of exceptional importance to Dremlock, but he is part of our group and should be treated like the rest of us." Lannon shrugged. "Sometimes he likes to be alone. He is a Ranger after all, and they're used to solitude. The guards understand that." Vannas scowled. "It's something I can never understand. I've always had people around me--friends, servants, family . I don't care for solitude. Lothrin is strange. He was always like that. That leaf-shaped birthmark on his face is a symbol of ancient sorcery--the leaf that burns." "But the leaf doesn't burn," said Lannon. "At least, not the one on Lothrin's face. Jace mentioned that. He said only a Birlote with a birthmark shaped like a burning leaf can remove the Crimson Flamestone from its bed of straw. Anyway, I think that's what he said. Too bad Lothrin isn't the one. We could use another Flamestone, as the black one is obviously too evil for Knightly hands." Vannas laughed. "Jace is a great man, but he is rather insane. I think the Crimson

Flamestone will never be removed from the straw. Olzet Ka feared its power and considered it too much for mortals to handle--something I can very much relate to. Why would he ever allow it to be wielded again?" "I have no idea," Lannon itted. "But Jace is wise, and if he believes there is something special about Lothrin's birthmark, who am I to dispute it? Jace has been around for two-hundred years." "Age does not always equal wisdom," said Vannas. "Yes, Lothrin is strange--and quite annoying lately, but that's where it ends. He may have ties to the sorcery of old, but if he was anything truly special, the Divine Essence would have chosen him to wield the White Flamestone instead of me. I mean no insult toward him. My cousin possesses royal blood, and he is a fine Knight and Ranger, but otherwise he is a simple man without much vision." "I can relate to that," said Lannon. "I was born in the woods to simple folk. I'm not sure what having vision even means." The prince smiled. "You have vision, Lannon--the Eye of Divinity, which sees everything. That is the only vision you need to find greatness." "Or death," Lannon said quietly, his mind on the Wolf. A moment of silence followed, as both young Knights contemplated the dangers that faced them. More ambushes undoubtedly awaited them on the journey to Kalamede, and then they would engage in what was certain to be a bloody battle beneath the streets of that city. Meanwhile, what would Bellis and the Blood Legion do? Would Tenneth Bard return, as Vorden had promised? In spite of all the combat and suffering needed to gain possession of the Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone, Dremlock's future was as murky as ever. "I'm guessing we'll start our journey soon," said Vannas. "I'm looking forward to it. I've grown quite weary of camping here." Lannon nodded, then turned back to gazing outside. Somewhere out beyond the tents his stalker lurked, bent on his doom. Both Taris and the Wolf itself had hinted that Lannon might be able to slay the beast--if his skills and knowledge were advanced enough. But no one--including Lannon--could predict the Eye of Divinity. No one could give him answers that would ease his mind. Everything was a gamble, and Lannon was weary of living that way. He wanted to

understand his place in the world--his destiny. Was he meant to survive and do great things, or perish and be quickly forgotten? The Knights acted as if destiny itself was folly, as if death could strike anyone at anytime. Only Lannon's crazy, shadow-infested father had believed that Lannon had a grand future ahead of him. "You're thinking of the beast," said Vannas, a knowing glint in his green eyes, "wondering when it will strike. Don't forget that it fears the White Flamestone. In spite of its arrogance, it knows I can destroy it." "Yet if it chose to attack right now," said Lannon, "you probably wouldn't have time to even get the Flamestone out of your cloak. We would be crushed in our tent. I've seen the beast up close. I know how powerful it is." "That's a good point, actually," said Vannas. "I will keep the Flamestone out in the open from now on, even when I sleep." Lannon could hear the rustling of fabric as the prince reached into his cloak. Moments later, Lannon heard a gasp. He whirled around to find Vannas on his feet, a horrified look on the prince's face. A shock surged through Lannon, for the prince's expression could only mean one thing. "The Flamestone is gone, Lannon!" Frantically, the prince searched his cloak again. He shook out his quilt and then felt around in the tent. He stumbled over Jerret, who awoke with a grunt, hand grasping his broadsword. "Get off me, you oaf!" Jerret growled, shoving Vannas away. Jerret sat up, rubbing his eyes. "What's wrong with you?" Vannas ignored Jerret and kept searching, his hands trembling as he moved objects about. Galvia awoke, and the young Knights scoured the tent for the black pouch that contained the Flamestone, but it was nowhere to be found. At last they gave up and stood staring at each other in disbelief. Lannon wondered if the Wolf was responsible. Had the stealthy beast somehow removed it from their heavily guarded tent? It seemed impossible, considering the Wolf's size. Then the prince's face turned crimson with rage. "Lothrin! It has to be him! He has finally stolen it!" "Calm down," said Lannon, appalled at the notion. "You don't have any proof of

that. It could have been one of our foes." "Then where is he?" said Vannas. He was shaking with rage. "I'll bet he has taken the Flamestone and fled the camp! He is a Ranger and will be difficult to track down. It could take months, if we ever do find him." Vannas clutched his head and groaned. "Lothrin's greed will bring about the ruin of Dremlock!" "Lothrin wouldn't do that," said Jerret. "He's no thief." "I agree," said Galvia. "Lothrin has an honorable heart, and he obeys the Sacred Laws. You should know your cousin better than that." "I used to know him," said Vannas, "but he has changed. His mind is always on the Flamestone. He hides it well from the rest you. I must alert Taris at once!" His hands knotted into fists. "If Lothrin has betrayed Dremlock..." Vannas let his words trail off, as Lothrin stepped calmly into the tent. The Birlote Ranger looked confused. One hand was in his cloak pocket. "Good morning," Lothrin mumbled. "There you are," Vannas growled, stepping close to him menacingly. "And where is the White Flamestone?" Lothrin withdrew the gem from his pocket. His face was red with shame. "This is very strange. I don't even taking it or leaving the tent. I must have been sleepwalking." "Liar!" Vannas snarled. "You stole it!" Lothrin's eyes narrowed. "You have no right to say such a thing, cousin. As you can see, I have returned and itted it was in my possession. Would a liar do that? No, instead I would have tried to flee the camp." Vannas hesitated, snared by the truth in Lothrin's words. Then he snatched the Flamestone from him. "Maybe you lost your nerve and decided you had better return it. After all, Dremlock doesn't look kindly upon traitors." Lothrin's face darkened. "Maybe you should learn to control yourself, my cousin, and start acting like the prince you're supposed to be."

With a cry, Vannas punched Lothrin in the jaw, knocking him down. He started toward the fallen Ranger, but Lannon seized the prince from behind. Jerret helped Lothrin up and held him in place. Lothrin's eyes smoldered with fury. "How dare you strike me? I'm your cousin and a member of the royal family. You have brought shame to the Elder House. I expected better of you. Where is your patience and wisdom?" Vannas bowed his head, as he shoved the gem into his cloak pocket. "I shouldn't have struck you. But you need to stay away from the White Flamestone. The Divine Essence wanted it in my hands, and there it must remain. I will report this incident to Taris and let him decide what should be done." Lothrin shrugged. "As I said, I was sleepwalking. It has happened before. It is a common affliction. Yes, I am drawn to the Flamestone. Everyone knows it. But I would never deliberately steal it from you. Tell Taris that. And if you strike me again--prince or not, I will defend myself." Suddenly, Vannas' hand dropped to his sword hilt. His eyes were cold with purpose. "I have heard your warning, cousin--now hear mine. I will protect this Flamestone with my life--with my blade if necessary." Lothrin's eyes widened. "You would kill me if I laid hands on it? Then you have truly become lost to that gem's power. What a shame." "He wouldn't kill you," said Lannon, but he doubted his own words. Maybe Vannas would indeed kill Lothrin if it came to that. Lannon didn't understand the ways of Birlotes, and the two men were seething with anger. Vannas said nothing. He continued to direct an icy gaze at Lothrin. His hand remained on his sword hilt. Lothrin shook his head in disgust. "I can't believe what you are suggesting. You've been like a brother to me." "Enough!" said Galvia, shoving them apart. "If you two don't stop, I'll have Furlus come and deal with you." "Yes, stop the nonsense," said Jerret, looking troubled. "We have enough enemies to confront without battling each other."

"This conversation is ended," said Vannas. "With Aldreya absent, I am in command here. We shall all go about our business." The others bowed--including Lothrin, though he muttered to himself under his breath. The tension was extreme in the tent, and Lannon hated it. They were all crammed together and guarded, given limited freedom. If they didn't find a way to resolve their differences, it was going to be wretched in the days ahead. Emotions were running so high between Vannas and Lothrin that Lannon feared bloodshed could result at any moment. And Vannas being second in command made the situation worse, for Lannon had no authority to establish boundaries that might prevent another fight. He decided to bring the issue to Aldreya. Lannon glanced down at the eye symbol on his Knightly sash. He was encouraged to avoid wearing the sash unless at Dremlock, for the sake of concealing his identity from his foes. But there it lay by his quilt--signifying his status. He was a Dark Watchman now and was supposed to have greater authority than the average Knight. But in the tent, amongst the Birlotes of the royal family, he was ranked third in command. Even Taris was not exempt from politics.

Chapter 5: A Dream of Servitude

The Knights spent the morning preparing for travel, gathering everything into saddle bags and wagons. At last they rode forth across the soggy grassland for Kalamede, leaving only crushed grass and charred wood behind to mark their campsite. Everyone knew there was a chance the journey could be abandoned, that they might be called back to Dremlock to help fortify the kingdom against Bellis. But the Tower Masters intended to ride on until told to do otherwise, as they eagerly awaited messages from the Elder Hawks. The fog lifted, and Lannon scanned the tall grass and hillsides for the Wolf; but if the ancient Goblin was pursuing him, it was somehow staying hidden. The Divine Shield rode at the heart of the battalion, and the young Knights were surrounded by Taris, Furlus, Jace, Trenton, Shennen, and Daledus. In spite of all the warfare this battalion had faced, it was still quite formidable, with its rows of armored Knights and banners flapping in the spring breeze. Lannon felt deep pride over what they had accomplished thus far. With the White Flamestone on their side, they were ready for anything--and tales of their grand victory over Bellis had no doubt spread throughout the land. Taris had already led this group to legendary status, and Lannon was certain more great deeds would be done. At one point late in the afternoon, Lannon spotted a hulking shadow on a hillside. It was so distant he could make out little more than a large patch of darkness, but when he blinked, the shadow was gone. He was certain he'd just caught a glimpse of the Wolf, and chills ran down his spine. Perhaps the beast had revealed itself to him deliberately. He informed Taris of what he'd seen. "I'm not surprised," said Taris. "You will glimpse this shadow again. Like it or not, you have a new companion, Lannon. This stalker will never let you rest, until you are destroyed. Unless, that is, we destroy it first." "Shouldn't we go and investigate?" asked Lannon. "The beast might be lurking close by." "That would be pointless," said Taris. "We would find nothing."

"Have you thought of a way to trap it yet?" asked Lannon. "Yes," said Taris, "but I'm not going to reveal it to you." "Why not?" asked Lannon, not liking the strange look on Taris' face. "Your mind may not be entirely your own," said Taris. "You've had with the beast, and it might have played a trick on you." "What sort of trick?" asked Lannon, appalled. "A trick of sorcery," said Taris. "But I cannot know for sure. Until then, I can reveal nothing. But Jace and I have worked on some ideas." Jace winked at Lannon. "Fear not, my young friend. That Wolf won't escape us indefinitely. I know how to trap Goblins--even the nastiest ones. I wrote the book on Goblins, ?" Lannon managed a smile, ing his favorite book The Truth about Goblins. He still had the shabby old book, though he hadn't opened it in a long time. The book had never specifically mentioned a creature like the Wolf, however. Jace raised his eyebrows. "I sense your doubt, Lannon. Actually, my book does mention the Five Horrors, as I named them. The Greater Dragons, the Phantoms, the Demons, the Fiends, and the Greater Goblins. That last category is where you will find your stalker. While it's true that I don't get into specifics, there is some sound advice in that book. You may want to crack it open again." Everyone fell silent, and Lannon took the book from his pack. It was nearly falling apart. The faded cover art depicted a mythical Fairy Dragon perched on a mushroom with human skulls and pieces of armor laying on the ground. Lannon could have simply asked Jace for advice, but he didn't feel like talking and this gave him an excuse to glance at his favorite book once more. Lannon scanned the table of contents and found the chapter concerning the Five Horrors. He found the Greater Goblin section and read it:

There are a number of greater beasts found in the Realm of Tharnin and in our

realm as well. How many, you ask? Well, perhaps you ask too many questions! Do you honestly think I know all the answers to everything? No, I do not. But I do know these beasts come in various shapes and sizes, and all of them are quite cunning. They are also unusually determined (kind of like your wonderful author here). Oh, I can't be bothered to explain that fanaticism in detail. Some would call it insanity, but rest assured (always rest assured when I am giving advice) ... rest assured that these Greater Goblins are NOT insane. In fact, the Noracks, Birlotes, and Olrogs are more insane than these beasts who are driven by personalities our simple minds cannot grasp. Simply because we cannot understand what motivates them does not mean they're crazed halfwits. However, they are unstable (to us) because we cannot predict their actions. It is positively dreadful (DREADFUL) when some unfortunate soul ends up in the clutches of a Greater Goblin. And by that I mean: being stalked. If you have a Greater Goblin sniffing around your campsite, well, my friend, I feel deep pity for you! They will haunt you until you come to ruin. Yes, some will simply attack right out of the gate (or cave, which is more likely), but others will toy with you like a Tree Goblin does with a sorry little leaf snake. So what can you do? Set a trap, of course. Dig a hole. Pray to your god. Have some cheese. Drink some wine (if you're of such weak character that you must mask your troubles with spirits--goodness knows I've had my share in times of weakness). Now where was I? My ink bottle is running out, unfortunately, but I want to finish this report. It is, after all, a report, is it not? I am reporting a bit of news for your benefit. Anyway, running out of ink. As I said, you must set a trap--or more than one, if you're to have any success. Keep trying to trap that beast, even as it thinks it has YOU trapped. Use yourself as bait, then laugh heartily when it dies in your snare. Ah, dirty Goblins! I've run out of...

Lannon closed the book and sighed. How was he supposed to set all these traps and use himself as bait? Couldn't Jace have been a bit more specific? Apparently he'd forgotten to finish the section after acquiring more ink, as the book moved on to a new topic past that point. Regardless, Lannon knew this was meant to be

vague, as circumstances were different for each individual and his stalker. As evening approached, Vannas and Lothrin took to arguing. The prince was angry because Lothrin had been riding too close to him. "Keep your distance!" Vannas snarled at him, hand on his sword hilt. "I don't want you to accidentally seize the White Flamestone again." "You treat me like a common thief!" Lothrin snarled back. "Your own cousin. And all because of an incident I had no control over." "No control?" said Vannas. "So you claim." "It is the truth," said Lothrin. "Taris has accepted that, so why can't you?" "Taris doesn't know you as well as I do," said Vannas. Lannon wondered why Taris didn't speak up. The sorcerer was close enough to hear what they were saying, but he rode on in silence. Jace and the other Knights seemed to ignore the situation as well, content to let the Grey Keepers handle their own affairs. It was a sign that Lannon and his friends were now being treated as Knights, which made Vannas' childish behavior all the more embarrassing. Lannon believed that Lothrin had told the truth about sleepwalking, but the prince refused to even consider the possibility of Lothrin's innocence. Lannon wanted to grab Vannas and shake some sense into him. "I've heard enough from you two," said Aldreya, glaring at them. "I want you both to ignore each other until you can make peace." Lothrin bowed. "As you wish. I am ready to make peace anytime our prince will agree to it. I never wanted a quarrel in the first place." Vannas' eyes widened. "So, Aldreya, you would treat a prince of Borenthia like a child? I must take issue with that." Aldreya hesitated, her eyes doubtful. Then her lips tightened. "Taris has placed me in charge, and you will obey." Vannas glared at her. "I question your leadership." Aldreya glanced at Lannon. She seemed uncertain of what to do, and Lannon felt

pity for her. She'd been raised to have deep respect and loyalty for Borenthia's princes, and Taris had placed her in a very tough position. "Then you question Taris' leadership as well," said Lannon. "If he placed Aldreya in charge, ignoring her commands would be the same as ignoring his. Are you prepared to do that, Prince Vannas?" Vannas hesitated, then forced a smile. "Of course not, Lannon. You know me better than that. I was just testing her." "Test me again," said Aldreya, "and I will take the issue to Taris. Is that understood?" The prince bowed. "Do what you must." *** They camped that night on a hill close to the Watchmen's Keep--the same hill they had camped upon the last time Lannon had visited the ancient tower. After they had feasted on venison and bread and gathered in their tents for the evening, Lannon wondered if Taris would summon him again to explore the keep. The sight of the tower ri above the trees in the moonlight had stirred longing within him. He wanted to test his skills again and see if he could unlock the Glaetherin safe at the tower's peak that seemed to hold so many secrets. Lannon lay awake for hours, waiting, but Taris never showed. At one point Lannon must have drifted off, for he found himself in a dream where a shadow was stalking him. He was fleeing through a forest, his heart pounding in his ears, and something dark and huge crashed through the underbrush behind him. No matter how fast he ran, the thing chasing him was drawing closer--until at last it caught him. A large, rugged paw pinned him to the earth and a disembodied voice whispered in his mind, "It is time to feed me!" Lannon awoke, knowing it was indeed time. He was awake but somehow still in a dream, as if partially submerged. He felt detached from reality, but it wasn't the Eye of Dreams this time. It was something else. He'd left his old self behind and embraced a new life, and he had no regrets. His old way of living seemed like folly. He sneered at the man he'd once been. He had a wonderful purpose now--a master to serve--and that was all he needed in life.

Everyone else in the tent was asleep, and Lannon grabbed his gear and crept outside. As usual, four Knights were guarding the tent. They glanced at Lannon questioningly. Lannon felt deep annoyance at the sight of these warriors, knowing they would focus on his every move. He was allowed to leave his tent, of course, but what he was about to do was sure to raise suspicions. But then he ed he was very important now, and the guards would obey him. His master's voice was whispering in his mind, giving him instructions. "This is Eye of Divinity business," said Lannon, gazing at them sternly. "I need to take a little walk--alone--and do a few things." "Stay where we can see you, then," one of them answered. "That's the latest order from Taris Warhawk, mind you. And try to make it quick." "I'm just going down the hill," said Lannon, "by the trees." He pointed to the valley below. "I require some provisions from the wagons." The Knights looked puzzled, but motioned him along. Lannon was glad Shennen wasn't with them, or surely he would have been detained and questioned extensively. He hurried off and gathered some food in a cart--meat from a spit and several loaves of bread. He took two jugs of Birlote wine from a wagon and a large bowl. Meanwhile, the four Knights watched him with baffled and concerned expressions. With the small cart filled with food and drink, Lannon smiled at the guards and then pushed it along down the hillside. He knew the Knights were debating whether or not to alert Taris, but he didn't care. As long as he was able to accomplish his mission, what happened after that meant little to him. Lannon gazed up at the Watchmen's Keep that rose above the treetops and hills. It looked dark and sinister in the moonlight, and he wondered how he could ever have considered it his home. That was part of his old life--a life spent serving the Divine Essence and being bound by the Sacred Laws. He was free of such folly now, and the tower only represented ugliness to him and war against the Deep Shadow. He hoped it would collapse into rubble and bury its secrets forever. When Lannon neared a mighty oak tree at the base of the hill--an oak that had lived through the rise and fall of kingdoms--he could sense a welcome presence lurking behind it. His master hid there, waiting to be fed--a huge shadow with a drooling mouth. Two great black paws were stretched around the enormous oak,

resting on gnarled roots. Lannon laid down the bowl and filled it with wine. "You feast is prepared, Master," he whispered. The grinning Wolf peered around the oak. "You have done well, Lannon. You took the wine from Shennen Silverarrow's wagon. His rage will be fierce when he discovers it missing." The Wolf devoured the meat and bread. "The bread is good, but I tire of venison. What a shame you couldn't have brought me something better." Then the beast lapped at the bowl, and its eyes brightened. "Yes...what a delightful wine to have been made by such foul creatures." "How else may I serve you, Master?" asked Lannon. He wondered when the dream would end. He sensed that in another plane of existence he considered the Wolf a dreaded enemy, but he preferred to have it as a friend and master. He wanted to remain in the dream forever, for serving brought him immense joy. With a low growl, the Wolf batted Lannon to the ground with its paw. "How else can you serve? Kill yourself, wretch!" Lannon rose and drew his Dragon sword. But a tiny voice nagged him that this was a bad decision, and reluctantly he sheathed the sword again. His instinct for survival was too strong. "I don't want to honor that request, Master. If I kill myself, I can no longer serve. Is there another task you would ask of me?" The Wolf's yellow eyes smoldered. "You are strong of will, young Lannon. You can sense the truth beyond the fog. I won't be able to keep you in my snare for long. But I want to tell you something that you will upon awakening. I will bring about the fall of Dremlock. I am the puppet master who will open the way. But when my task is done, I will return for you. I want you to see your beloved kingdom in ruins. Then, when you have suffered enough and all your friends are dead, I will kill you. You had your chance to our army like the Watchmen of old, yet you continue to make war on us. You're too stubborn for your own good. Therefore, your torment must be legendary. It is the will of Tharnin." Lannon said nothing. He found himself fighting to who he was. He

sensed he was under some spell and needed to break free. He reached deep into himself, trying to find the Eye of Divinity. But the Eye was sluggish, responding poorly to his grasp--refusing to awaken. "Now it's time for you to take a journey," said the Wolf, its evil laughter filling the air. It wrapped one paw around Lannon. "To Old Hill Forest we go, where the dead are restless. Lost and alone, you will come to hate me, while your precious Knights move on without you." The air whooshed by as the Wolf bounded across the grassy hills beneath the pale moon. Lannon closed his eyes and waited, content to let the dream take him where it would. But sometime during the journey, Lannon began to question the dream. He began to think that serving the Wolf was a dire mistake, and panic arose within him. At last the Eye of Divinity responded, and he turned it against the Wolf in an effort to break free. He was now in pitch blackness and could hear the crashing of underbrush. Using the power of the Eye, Lannon tore himself away from his captor. Lannon tumbled across the leaves and then rose, drawing his sword. The spell was broken, and Lannon was furious that he'd let his mind be consumed by the monster. He was ready to fight--the power of the Eye surging through his blade. He didn't know if he could win, but he vowed to end it here one way or another so that his soul could never be held captive again. Two large yellow eyes burned in the darkness. "So now you want to fight, but it is too late. You will have a fight on your hands, but it won't be with me. Welcome to Old Hill Forest, young Knight, where the restless ones will seek your doom." With that, the Wolf bounded off through the woods and Lannon was left alone with only a deep sense of dread for company. *** Back at camp, after the alarm horns had stopped sounding and the Knights had stopped searching the surrounding areas for Lannon, Taris called a meeting of the Divine Shield in his tent. The Knights were weary and had heavy hearts, the loss of Lannon a devastating blow. As the leader of the Grey Keepers, Aldreya felt she was the most to blame even though reason told her she couldn't have prevented it. Trenton was furious, wanting the four Knights who had been guarding Lannon's tent demoted to the rank of Orange Squires. But Taris would

hear none of it. He waved dismissively at Trenton's suggestion. "They did the best they could," said Taris. "Lannon wasn't a prisoner. In fact, he is a Dark Watchman with a fair amount of authority. Our Knights had to walk a fine line between protecting him and allowing him his freedoms." "Still," muttered Trenton, "we knew he was being stalked. The guards should have escorted him wherever he was going, as usual." "He ordered them not to," said Taris, with a shrug. "They obeyed. It is just the way things have worked out. I feared he might be under some dark influence, but I couldn't prove it. Ultimately, Lannon must find his own way." Trenton's mouth dropped open. "Lannon must find his own way? We have an army of Knights, and Lannon must find his own way? Really, Taris, that's the most ridiculous statement I have ever heard!" "I agree with Trenton," said Furlus. "This should not have happened. We should have given him better protection." "What more could we have done?" said Taris. "He has been protected to the point where he has come to rely on others instead of relying on his own skills. We have protected him nearly to death." "I couldn't agree more," said Jace. "A Dark Watchman must learn to fend for himself. Throwing more guards at Lannon was never the right answer. In spite of our best efforts, he was nearly assassinated more than once. And now this. Let us at least stop questioning whether or not we offered him enough defenders. He was surrounded endlessly by defenders! In truth, it was always going to come down to Lannon and his own skills--alone, as Dark Watchmen always are." Shennen nodded. "I'm not worried about Lannon. I've fought alongside him, and he can take care of himself. That Goblin will get more than it bargained for. However, I am worried about Kalamede. We need to hurry this mission along. The threat of Bellis is too great to ignore. In other words, I don't think we can spend too much time searching for him. Lannon can find his own way." Aldreya could hardly believe what she was hearing. "Leave him behind? But he has the Eye of Divinity! Surely that will be needed in Kalamede."

Jerret shook his head. "No way I'm leaving Lannon in the clutches of that beast. He deserves better than that." "It would be foolish to abandon him," said Prince Vannas. "This kingdom should not underestimate Lannon's importance." Shennen glared at the prince. "I underestimate nothing. But Taris is right. Lannon must learn to fight his own battles. Clearly, that Goblin wanted to lead us astray so we would waste time searching for him." "It is possible," said Jace, "that Lannon was taken to Old Hill Forest, which is not far from here. If so, he will face more danger than just the Wolf. However, this is likely only an effort to frustrate both him and us--and it seems to have worked on our end of things at least. We could search Old Hill Forest in daylight hours--when it is safe--but Lannon would be very hard to find. The woods there are quite dense and full of hills and valleys, as you might expect. And to try to track him down at night would be pure folly. The presence of the Deep Shadow is strong there, and after dark, some of its most hideous children come out to play." "The restless ones," said Taris. "Yes, if Lannon was taken there, he will have his hands full. But there is nothing to be done about it now."

Chapter 6: The Restless Ones

Lannon scanned his surroundings. He was in an ancient forest full of oaks, maples, and beech trees, and all around him were wooded hills. Had it not been for his power, he would have been in nearly total darkness, as the leafy branches were so thick overhead that only slivers of moonlight crept through. Here and there were mossy boulders and fallen logs overgrown with fungus. Something was very wrong with the woods. There seemed to be no animal life, and a dark tension hung in the air. The Eye revealed traces of evil sorcery in the soil and trees--the presence of the Deep Shadow. "Great, now what?" Lannon muttered aloud. He had no idea how far the Wolf had carried him or even where he was. He was angry with himself for falling victim to the beast's ruse. He was also worried over something the Wolf had told him--that it could bring about the fall of Dremlock. It had some sinister plan in mind, and Lannon wanted to inform Taris immediately. The Eye's range was limited, and Lannon wasn't sure which way to go. Finally, he set off in a random direction up a steep hillside. The Eye filled his body with strength and vigor, and he moved at a rapid pace without tiring. When he got over that towering hill he found another one of equal stature waiting for him. Lannon groaned. It was nothing but steep forested hills--everywhere. He wasn't sure how long the Eye could sustain him, though using it to enhance his travel speed seemed to drain its energy only slightly. He sped over hill after hill, a cloaked shadow hurtling along beneath the trees--leaping over logs and boulders and cutting through underbrush with his Dragon sword. Suddenly, a piercing howl filled the air--coming from a short distance away. It had sounded almost human and quite evil. Lannon froze, his hands tightening around his sword. He scanned the trees, waiting for the thing to show itself. At last a face peered out from behind a beech tree. It was a human face--but one that showed signs of decay. The eyes were like black jelly. The flesh had a grey, stony look to it. A stench filled the air like that of an ancient crypt. As quick as

the face had appeared, it vanished again behind the tree. Lannon calmed his nerves, focusing on all he'd learned since ing forces with Dremlock. The face had been terrifying, but Lannon was a Knight and knew how to control his fear. He studied the creature and discovered it was an ancient corpse of a Norack warrior, clothed in a black loincloth and animated by the Deep Shadow. Its flesh was indeed like rock--fortified by dark sorcery--and it possessed great strength. It had the cunning of Tharnin and the will to destroy life. This abomination was so repulsive that it sickened Lannon. The dead should have been left to lay peacefully beneath the soil, but the Deep Shadow wouldn't allow for it--corrupting the once living shell and sending it forth like a puppet. The word Stoneman appeared in Lannon's mind. He knew he was in for a tough battle. More faces appeared around Lannon, along with howls and laughter. Lannon simply stood and waited, the Eye channeled into his blade. At last, his foes grew impatient and surged out from behind the trees. They swarmed on him with such speed and ferocity it caught him off guard. Lannon beheaded the first Stoneman to reach him, then kicked the headless body away. The beheading seemed to vanquish the dark sorcery, and the creature didn't move again. He cut the arm off another one, but that didn't stop it. He ducked a stony fist and finished the monster off. But the Stonemen were packed so tightly around Lannon he was having trouble swinging his sword. Then one of them latched onto his weapon and ripped it out of his hands. Cackling, the Stoneman backed away with the sword. The others then sought to bear Lannon to the ground by sheer force of numbers. Lannon pushed back with the Eye, giving himself a bit of space. He seized a Stoneman's head with both hands and flung the creature into an oak tree. It struck with shattering force and broke apart like sand. Lannon took a heavy fist to the head, but the Eye absorbed the impact. However, Lannon was knocked sideways and nearly lost his footing. Letting the Eye guide him, he stuck back with his own fist and blasted the creature's head into sandy fragments. Lannon hurled another zombie into a tree, and then leapt over the remaining ones--in pursuit of the one who had stolen his sword. He quickly ran down the creature and wrenched the sword away from it. The Stoneman lunged at him,

howling, before Lannon cleaved the fiend in two at the waist. Again they closed in on him. It wasn't merely the walking dead Lannon faced, but some new type of creature entirely. They were children of the Deep Shadow, but much different than most Goblins. A flickering thought ran through Lannon's mind that they might be categorized as Phantoms in Jace's book (creatures that weren't alive in any recognizable sense), though he had little time to ponder such things. Regardless, they were mighty foes. He was certain that an ordinary blade would have shattered against their skin, and he felt very grateful for his Dragon sword. He wondered how many Stonemen infested the forest and if he would have enough endurance to prevail, for eventually he would run out of energy. The Eye told him that if he fell in battle to them, he would likely become one of them--doomed to haunt the forest forever. That realization nearly drove him into a panic, and he had to fight for a moment to calm himself. Lannon cut down two more, and he suddenly found himself consumed by deep focus. He was overcome by some sort of battle lust that made him forget his fears and relish the combat. Part of him knew such a feeling was dangerous. It was the same rush of power that consumed Prince Vannas from time to time. But Lannon made no effort to fight it. He was bent on survival and was willing to accept nearly anything that would help his cause. His mind soaring with power, he sheathed his sword and seized a Stoneman by the waist. He hurled it into another Stoneman and the two creatures shattered into fragments. He whirled around and drove his fist through another, then flung it into a tree. He dared them to challenge him. He wanted to show them he didn't need his sword, that he could defeat them with strength. Apparently his ploy worked, as the Stonemen retreated behind trees. Lannon waited, standing with his arms folded across his chest. He could hear them moving through the underbrush away from him. Slowly, the rush of power drained away, leaving a feel of weariness in its wake. With a sigh, Lannon sat down on a log. He doubted the Stonemen would leave him be, as it wasn't in their nature. They would probably return in greater numbers. He felt exhausted and had to struggle to stay alert. He wanted to sleep, but he knew it would doom him. Lannon rose, determined to keep moving until he found his way out of the forest.

As he hurried along, he focused mainly on staying alert--but he caught no glimpse of his foes. Eventually, he began to think they had indeed abandoned him, and he let his guard down--concentrating on moving swiftly. He found himself almost slumbering as he raced through the forest. The Eye seemed to guide him along, allowing him to thoroughly relax as he climbed over hill after hill. But as he raced past a gnarled beech tree, a stony arm swung out and struck his ribs. It hit with shattering impact, and Lannon dropped to the ground with a cry of pain. Before he could shield himself, several Stonemen leapt out and hammered him with their fists. The first few blows caused agony, before the Eye deflected their attacks. Groaning, Lannon shoved his foes away and rose. He drew his sword and quickly cut the Stonemen down. But significant damage had been done. Lannon was bruised, gashed, and bloodied--and he was certain he had a broken rib or two. He cursed himself for being a fool and letting down his guard. Only the Eye of Divinity sustained him now, as he began his journey again. With Lannon injured, his foes attacked with renewed vigor. Yet this time Lannon kept moving, striking at them only when necessary. When he reached the top of an immense hill, he looked around for the tallest tree he could find--a smooth oak with a trunk as wide as a cabin. The oak's lowest branch was about twenty feet above the ground. Lannon shoved a Stoneman away and took out his rope and grapple hook. He snagged the branch, but before he could climb, two more Stoneman reached him, their arms hammering at him furiously. With a groan, Lannon slashed the creatures into ruin. Then he sheathed his sword and climbed the rope. Lannon's breathing was raspy from pain as he made his way up to the limb. A Stoneman tried to climb up after him, but Lannon shook it from the rope. Again using his grapple hook as needed, he climbed high into the tree until he found a comfortable place to lay. Lannon's body hurt from head to toe. Below, the Stonemen pounded on the tree with their fists--hard enough to shake it and cause Lannon jolts of agony. Just when he thought they were going to hammer at the tree all night, they stopped and simply stood around the trunk, waiting. Lannon wanted to sleep, but he forced himself to meditate on his injuries. The

Knightly healing technique was very effective, and his pain diminished after an hour or so. Finally, Lannon allowed himself to sink into a deep sleep. In his dreams, he saw a river running red with blood. There, the soldiers from a nearby fort had been massacred and shoved into the raging waters. They had been betrayed and had died in misery. But the Deep Shadow had summoned them from the crimson waters and they had claimed revenge. Now, they were the soldiers of Tharnin and the Stonemen were their puppets. The cursed forest held many echoes of war and pain--so many that even the ancient trees had grown cold from it. Lannon slept in a cold embrace, alone and lost in the darkness, with only nightmares for company. *** Lannon awoke on a warm spring morning to streams of sunlight pouring down through the branches. It didn't take him long to realize his injuries were more severe than he'd believed. He had a breakfast of bread and jerky from his pack, then returned to his healing meditations. The Stonemen were gone from below, for the coming of daylight had driven them back into hiding. Lannon could have fled from the forest without trouble and perhaps found his way back to camp, but to his deep frustration he knew he would require an entire day of healing. That meant a day and night stuck in the tree and the cold, wretched forest, and he feared Taris would give up on him and head for Kalamede without him. That evening, the Stonemen gathered around the tree again--pounding on it for a while before giving up. Lannon ignored them, knowing they would be gone again at dawn. His healing had progressed rapidly, and he intended to start his journey as early as possible. However, when Lannon awoke it was late in the morning--another warm, sunny day. Lannon probed his ribs and winced. More healing was needed, but he felt much better. He sat up and stretched, glancing about. It was almost like a different world in the treetops--even pleasant--with all the sunlit, budding branches around him. The huge branches of the oaks and beeches locked together forming silver and black pathways, and had Lannon been feeling more nimble, he might have been able to travel high above the ground (though there was no point to it with the Stoneman gone). He rose and climbed to the highest branch that would sustain his weight, trying to get a glimpse above the treetops. But even though he was atop one of the

tallest hills and tallest trees, his vision was still obscured by branches. Lannon used the Eye to levitate himself into the air--until his feet were above the treetops. He floated there in midair, instantly weary from all the focus it required to suspend himself like that. The forest ran for miles in all directions--a carpet of treetops rising and falling with the hills. It was a much larger forest than Lannon had anticipated. However, it was a clear day and he caught a glimpse of the Watchmen's Keep far off in the distance. Immediately the Eye locked onto the image somehow, burning the direction into Lannon's mind. It was unexpected, and it caused him to lose focus. With a gasp, he dropped like a stone. As Lannon fell, he swiped at branches in a panic and missed them--even bouncing off one on the way down. Then he was in open air and hurtling toward the forest floor. He only had an instant to react, but that was enough time for him to use the Eye to slow his fall. He landed on the leaf-covered ground below with a jolt that sent ripping pain through his body from his injuries. He rose, muttering to himself. "Well that was pleasant!" Nevertheless, the Eye had done him a favor--for he now knew which direction to proceed in. He waited until the pain had subsided a bit and then hurried off through the forest, letting his power guide him. He had a long way to go, but the Eye propelled him along with the speed of a galloping horse, up steep hillsides and down through deep ravines. Lannon paused on an enormous, fungus-covered log that stretched across a ravine between hills. The Eye revealed traces of ancient sorcery in the log--a power similar to that found in Knightwood at Dremlock Kingdom. This had once been a peaceful and noble forest inhabited by the Birlotes, but war had come to these wooded hills and the Tree Dwellers had moved on. The Deep Shadow had invaded, unleashed by the Olrogs in their fight against the Noracks-corrupting the soil and trees and turning beauty into darkness. Lannon was flooded with sadness over what had been done to this once proud landscape. It reminded him of the darkness that had invaded the Watchmen's Keep. The Deep Shadow seemed to take the most beautiful things in the world and turn them dreary and ugly. Lannon caught a glimpse of dark and powerful sorcery nearby--just a trace of it, but still enough to startle him. Even though it took him out of his way, he was

compelled to investigate. He walked over three hills before the ground leveled off. The forest took on a swampy appearance, the trees almost completely covered in moss and fungus, and fat, moldy vines hung from the branches like snakes. The soil was mushy beneath his boots. Sword in hand, he pushed through the vines toward a bright spot in the forest. Meanwhile, the aura of dark sorcery grew stronger. Lannon hesitated, wondering if he should turn back. He didn't feel like he was in danger--and the Eye revealed no enemies--but the aura was so powerful it was unlike anything he'd ever felt. It was like a beating heart pounding in his ears and calling to him (or so he first thought). Then he realized it was his own heartbeat he was hearing. A voice in his mind whispered that he needed to know the truth. Lannon's burning curiosity got the best of him, and he continued on. The bright spot turned out to be a small, grassy clearing--at the center of which stood an ancient, crumbling house, covered in moss and vines. The evil sorcery was radiating from an upstairs window with broken shutters. Lannon again hesitated, overwhelmed by some deep, instinctive fear. Something terrible lurked in that house, something that could cause madness. Lannon sensed that it was connected to the Dark Watchmen somehow--one of many such items scattered throughout the land. His predecessors had done so much evil--had damaged Silverland in so many ways--that Lannon was deeply ashamed to be one of them. Then he ed that they had also done a lot of good in their time, before they had gazed too deeply into the heart of Tharnin and had been consumed by it. For quite sometime, Lannon fought to tear his gaze away from that window. It was a slow and exhausting struggle. The thing in the house wanted to enslave him, for it sensed Lannon could carry out its will. It had lain dormant for centuries, and now, by a stroke of good fortune, it had an opportunity to rise again to prominence. But Lannon resisted, pulling himself out of its clutches bit by bit, and eventually he won the battle, growing stronger as a result. Lannon snapped awake, his mind at last free of the struggle. He was shocked to find he'd stood in the clearing all day battling for control of his soul, and now evening had settled over the forest, with a pale moon visible above. Chills flooded over his flesh, as laughter and howls erupted in the forest behind him. Lannon's hand tightened around his sword. The Stonemen had found him again.

Chapter 7: The Ritual of Fire

After spending hours searching for Lannon, the Knights finally gave up in frustration. Since there was no telling how far the Wolf had taken him, Taris made the harsh decision that they would proceed to Kalamede without him. There was a hearty debate over the issue, as many viewed Lannon as too important to be abandoned. But both Taris and Jace (who understood the ways of the Dark Watchmen better than the others) were confident he would find his way back to them. They also insisted Lannon was no safer with the Divine Knights than he was on his own. With heavy hearts, they resumed their journey through the hills. If the loss of Lannon wasn't bad enough, they soon received news by Elder Hawk of Cordus Landsaver's injuries and the death of Barlow Whitesword. The news shook the camp, and Taris immediately called a meeting of the Divine Shield. It was a cold spring evening, and everyone was weary from a rough day and frustrated as they sat in his tent. The assassination plot made Dremlock seem terribly vulnerable all of a sudden, the loss of Cordus Landsaver a crippling blow to morale. Aldreya was scheduled for a late training session, though she wasn't in the mood for it at all. She hoped Taris would cancel it. She was weary of the rigid training sessions to begin with, and now with so many concerns burdening her mind, she just wanted to return to her tent and be left alone. As usual during these meetings, the tent was crowded--with Jace alone taking up the space of two men. Also, Jace's pipe smoke filled the interior--some type of cheap, nasty Norack leaf--and Aldreya felt like she was gagging on it. She was annoyed with Uncle Jace's lack of courtesy in this time of sorrow, but he seemed oblivious as he puffed away. "Our Lord Knight has fallen," said Taris, bowing his head. "He cannot awaken, and the healers aren't sure if he will ever recover. Barlow Whitesword was a good man and represents a huge loss to the High Council. The remaining Council have requested that I return to fill the role of Lord Knight until Cordus is back on his feet or has ed on. I need your opinions on this." "You are second in command," said Trenton. "Tradition demands that you

function as Lord Knight in a time such as this." "Agreed," said Furlus. "You've earned the right." Shennen and Daledus also expressed agreement. "What is your opinion, Aldreya?" asked Taris. Even though she was his apprentice, Aldreya was surprised Taris had asked for her opinion. She took a moment to ponder the issue, while the others gazed at her. She hated the thought of Taris returning to Dremlock and taking over Cordus' many duties, for that would likely mean her training would be put on hold. Even though she needed a break from the training, that might make for too long of an interruption. It was a selfish thought, and she pushed it from her mind. "I think you should go," she said. "In our Lord Knight's absence, there is no one more fit to lead the kingdom." "I disagree," said Prince Vannas. "Not about you being fit to lead, Master Taris, but about you returning to Dremlock. You are best suited to deal with the issue in Kalamede. With these Ironheart Priests, there will be sorcery involved. I think Furlus should return to Dremlock instead." "I think you're absolutely right, my good prince," said Jace, waving his arms in enthusiasm and causing an annoyed Aldreya to duck as his reeking pipe ed close to her head. "A brilliant observation for a youngster like you. Furlus is quite capable of running Dremlock and defending the kingdom. But an expert sorcerer like Taris is best suited to dealing with the servants of Tharnin." "I have faith," said Shennen, "that Furlus can lead the kingdom just fine." The master assassin and Lord of the Blue Knights had been strangely quiet lately, staying in the background more than usual. Something seemed to be weighing heavily on his thoughts, but he chose not to share it. "Furlus is the master of warfare," said Daledus. "If Bellis attacks Dremlock, who is better suited then Furlus to defend the wall?" Taris nodded. "I agree that Furlus is best suited to defend our kingdom. I don't think anyone would dispute that."

Trenton frowned. "It goes against tradition, but the Sacred Laws would allow for Furlus to assume the role of Lord Knight--since he is a Tower Master and third in command. What do you think, Furlus?" Furlus shrugged. "Dremlock has been dealt a terrible blow. We've lost our Lord Knight, a respected High Council member, and the Eye of Divinity. I will serve where I am most needed. The decision is Taris' to make." Taris sat in silence for a few moments. At last he said, "Very well. Furlus and a small company of Knights will proceed to Dremlock and take command, while the rest of us continue on to Kalamede." "And rest assured," said Furlus, "I will find out who was behind that assassination attempt, and they will pay with blood!" Jace smiled. "We already know who is behind it. King Verlamer." "Bellis supposedly doesn't have dealings with Goblins," said Furlus. "Not that I necessarily believe that." "That's the old Bellis," said Jace. "Times have changed." "What about the Hand of Tharnin?" said Furlus. "And the Black Flamestone?" Should those items go with me? After all, wouldn't they be safer at Dremlock as opposed to roaming around with this battalion?" "So it would seem," said Taris, looking thoughtful. "But if Bellis' forces attack again, they will likely go straight for Dremlock. They've already dealt with the White Flamestone and paid a high price. Wherever the White Flamestone is kept, those items will be most secure." "I wholeheartedly agree," said Jace. "Dremlock's wall is stout and well defended, but the White Flamestone is what our enemies fear most. When we have finished our business in Kalamede, then we can return the items to Dremlock." "Still, it is very risky," said Furlus. "If Lannon could be taken so easily in the dead of night, then so could those items. I realize you are guarding them personally, Taris, but even you are not invincible." Taris smirked. "I never said I was. But neither is Dremlock. Look at how easily

our Lord Knight was nearly assassinated. My instinct--for whatever that is worth--is to keep the items with us for now." Furlus shrugged. "Fine by me. Your instincts aren't too bad for a Birlote. I guess the issue is settled then. I will ride for Dremlock in the morning." "And I envy you," said Taris, with a sigh. "It seems like a lifetime has ed since I last walked the paths through Knightwood." "I will miss fighting alongside this battalion," said Furlus, "which has made me proud. I've never seen a more capable group of warriors." "In your absence, Furlus," said Daledus Oakfist, "can I play the role of Tower Master? I always wanted to rule my own tower!" In spite of the grim situation, the Dwarf managed his usual good-natured grin. "Do you see any towers out here?" said Furlus. "There are none. But I will allow you to serve as Tent Master if you wish." "I'll take it," said Daledus. That statement brought on a bit of laughter, but the mood quickly turned somber again. "With Barlow's ing," said Taris, "I vote that Shennen be added to the High Council immediately. It is long overdue. As this is an emergency situation, an actual vote of the entire High Council isn't needed. He will be able to assume his duties upon being sworn in." "I second that vote," said Trenton, "with a fair amount of enthusiasm. Shennen will make an excellent replacement for Barlow. And the Blue Knights are too important not to be represented on the High Council." "He has my vote," said Furlus, "but we'll need approval from Krissana and Vesselin to make this permanent. I will inform them of your votes." "Shennen," said Taris, "do you swear to obey the Sacred Laws governing your position on the High Council, and do you swear to accept Cordus, Furlus, Trenton, Vesselin, and myself as your Council Brothers, and Krissana as your Council Sister? If so, do you swear to place their welfare above even that of your

own family and your own life?" "Yes to all," said Shennen, in an emotionless voice. His shining green eyes betrayed nothing in the lantern light. "Then welcome to the High Council, my friend," said Taris. He directed a wry smile at Shennen. "You now have the right to vote." Shennen bowed, but said nothing. *** After the meeting, the Knights gathered wood into a large pile. Taris threw white liquid over the timber, and soon a great, pale bonfire was blazing. The Knights gathered in a circle around the fire, heads bowed in silence, as they honored their Lord Knight and the spirit of Barlow Whitesword. "This is a time of great sorrow for Dremlock," said Furlus. The Grey Dwarf stood close to the flames, leaning on his battle axe. "But out of great sorrow comes great resolve. This will be a turning point for Dremlock Kingdom. Our foes have unknowingly caused their own doom. The cowardly attack on our Lord Knight will surely bring a Declaration of War against Bellis!" The Knights cheered. A Declaration of War would mean that Dremlock was pledged to bring Bellis Kingdom to the ground. No retreat would be permitted and nothing but unconditional surrender accepted. Of course, proof that King Verlamer was behind the assassination attempt would be required, but Furlus seemed confident the evidence would be found. Jace glanced at Taris, looking amused. "A useless Declaration of War, I'm afraid, for war will find Dremlock regardless." Taris didn't reply, but continued to stand with his head bowed. Aldreya stood beside the sorcerer, wondering what he was thinking. The bad fortune of the past few days had been devastating, and she wondered if Dremlock could rebound. What if Lannon was dead--slain by the Wolf or something equally as dangerous? No one knew for sure what had become of him. Aldreya had come to understand that the Knights--even Taris--could speculate and show great confidence in their assumptions, but things could still go horribly wrong. There was no guarantee that Cordus would ever awaken or that Lannon would live to find his way back

to them. There was no guarantee of anything. "Are you ready for your next lesson?" asked Taris. "I'm still going to train tonight?" Aldreya asked, surprised and disappointed. "I thought maybe we would skip it, considering the circumstances." Taris frowned. "Yes, we could return to our tents and fret over things we cannot control, but that would be folly. We have work to do." Aldreya bowed, but groaned inwardly. With so much weighing on her mind, how could she focus on training? She hesitated, then said, "I'm sad over Barlow's death and what happened to our Lord Knight. But I'm also worried about Lannon. If that beast could run off with him like that...maybe it simply killed him. Or maybe it is tormenting him." She shuddered. A creature like that was so evil it could make Lannon suffer in unimaginable ways. He still seemed so young and innocent--Dark Watchman or not--and the thought of him being tormented by an evil fiend was almost unbearable. Yet she was supposed to forget that and busy herself with training? Taris was asking the impossible of her. The sorcerer still seemed so unfathomable to her, almost inhuman in his ability to control his emotions. She doubted she could ever be like him, and she wasn't sure she wanted to. He seemed so cold and relentless. "Indeed," said Taris, "maybe the creature did kill him. Perhaps Lannon lies dead somewhere, the Eye of Divinity lost with him. Or perhaps Lannon has found a fate worse than death. You still have your duties as a Divine Knight, however. Others still depend on you. Would Lannon want you to ignore their needs and worry only about him? Rest assured, eventually he will exist beyond the clutches of that beast--either because he escaped or because death ended his suffering. Regardless, it will be the blink of an eye in the great flow of time. His pain will not last." "I understand," Aldreya said, but she wasn't comforted. "No, you don't understand," said Taris. "Not yet. You have the potential to be a great sorcerer--greater even than myself. But you're young and you haven't mastered your emotions. This is a good test for you--a chance to truly better yourself and focus on your training." Aldreya sighed. "So it's all just a test to you? I just can't see it that way, Master

Taris. It means so much more to me." "No, it's not all just a test to me," said Taris. "Lannon, Barlow, and Cordus were close friends of mine. I feel the loss just as you do. But a Divine Knight must always attend to his duties. We have an obligation to our god and our kingdom-and to the people of this land. As difficult as it may be at times, we cannot neglect our duties or we neglect everything we stand for." Again, Aldreya bowed. She knew Taris was right. But something still nagged at her bitterly. "I can't believe we just left Lannon behind. He was...he is...so important to this kingdom. It doesn't make sense to me." "It had to be done," said Taris. "We searched extensively but could find no trace of him. That beast could have taken him anywhere in the land, and we have little time to spare." He smiled at her. "Regardless, I believe Lannon is probably on his way to Kalamede even as we speak. He may arrive there even before we do. With his skills, he should have an easy journey." Aldreya nodded, feeling a bit of relief. Taris was probably right again. Lannon was probably free of the Wolf and having an easy time of things. *** Lannon wondered if he was going to die and end up a zombie, as the army of Stonemen closed in on him. Death was one thing, but eternal enslavement was quite another--the fear of all fears. After an entire day of struggling against the Deep Shadow, he felt weary and drained, and he wondered how much longer the Eye of Divinity could protect him. He gagged on the ancient stench that filled the clearing in the cold evening air, as lurching, grey-skinned, shadowy figures advanced on him in the moonlight. The Stonemen came in all shapes and sizes-including a few with large, sagging bellies--but many of them were muscular warriors. All wore only black loincloths, and they all bore the same gleeful, mocking expression on faces that had eyes like black jelly. They were cunning creatures and seemed to take great delight in being evil and relentless. They could sense Lannon's weakness and exhaustion and they surged at him with arrogant abandon. Lannon was still shocked that the thing in the old house had held him under its spell all day long. He realized the object was best left to rot in that upstairs room, protected by the forest full of Stonemen. It had been created by the Dark

Watchmen after they had been consumed by the Deep Shadow, and Lannon speculated that it had been placed in that house so no one would be able to get their hands on it. There it could remain for centuries, untouched, until another Dark Watchman dared to seek it. But Lannon would not be the one, for he sensed the object could corrupt his soul. As powerful as it was, he wanted no part of it. His goal now was simply to survive this attack and escape Old Hill Forest. As the wall of Stonemen closed in, Lannon realized he needed a new strategy-that he had to start being more inventive with the Eye. He only had seconds to ponder it, and ultimately he reacted more on instinct than anything else, flooding himself with the Eye and using it to shield his flesh. He then charged forward into the crowd of zombies, smashing them aside like a battering ram. He drove through the heavy Stonemen, scattering them, and emerged into the forest at a full run, moving toward the Watchmen's Keep. Lannon was delighted that the strategy had worked, but the Stonemen charged after him with a crashing of underbrush, angry howls, and their evil stench reaching his nostrils. They weren't far behind, and Lannon was forced to keep moving as fast as he could, knowing that tripping over a root or rock could be fatal. The effort of shielding himself from harm significantly drained his speed, and he considered casting aside all protection in favor of sheer velocity. But the memory of what had happened last time--the Stoneman's arm catching him by surprise and caving in his ribs--persuaded him to maintain his shielding energy. Lannon raced over a few hills and then entered another small clearing. An enormous oak with sprawling branches stood at the middle of the field like a dark cloud in the moonlight--the largest tree Lannon had encountered in the forest thus far. Lannon realized he'd been drawn to the clearing somehow, for going there had taken him a bit out of his way. The Eye of Divinity revealed something horrific standing near the oak--a towering figure of armor, bone, and shifting shadows. Lannon glimpsed black eye sockets beneath a horned helm, and a gleaming sword adorned with demonic faces. The Eye probed deeper, revealing a Barloak demon leftover from the ancient war against all life, a creature that fancied itself a warlord and a soldier and that was always seeking to expand its domain. It had never surrendered and still fought on under the banner of Tharnin. The word Bloodeye entered Lannon's mind--a nickname for the creature because of an old wound in its skull that never healed and leaked black blood. This was the puppet master of Old Hill Forest. Flanking the demon were six warriors holding swords--mostly bone beneath armor like their master.

For a moment, Lannon was so stunned and overwhelmed by fear that he did nothing. He was in disbelief that a Barloak demon still walked the land. He doubted he would stand a chance against it in combat. But then whispers invaded his mind, challenging him to battle one of the lesser soldiers. If Lannon prevailed, he would be allowed to safely leave the forest. If he lost, however, he would be forced to surrender and the demon's army. For several moments, Lannon didn't answer the challenge. He wasn't even sure any of this was real. For all he knew, this was some illusion of the Deep Shadow meant to lead him astray. The Eye should have reassured him, but he didn't trust it was showing him the truth. Sometimes even that power could be confused. But he sensed the Barloak demon was growing impatient, and he needed to make a decision. It might have all been an illusion, but with no way of knowing for sure, Lannon was forced to assume it was real. Lannon called out his acceptance of the duel and started forward. Meanwhile, the Stonemen gathered around the edge of the clearing, forming a solid wall of grey bodies. They were content to stand and watch. One of the Barloak demon's warriors came out to confront Lannon--a lurching humanoid figure made of armor-covered bone and shifting shadows. A skeletal face, half lost in darkness, grinned at Lannon from beneath a black helm. Like the Stonemen, this creature wasn't dead or alive--but somewhere in between. It was the bony remains of a warrior now infested by a lesser demon. As the two fighters clashed in a blur of sword strokes, Lannon was surprised by his foe's speed. He was also surprised that the warrior's sword held up against Lannon's Dragon sword. Lannon launched one furious attack after the next, but the warrior managed to effortlessly block every move. Lannon's ribs burned with pain, but he ignored it and fought on. At last Lannon's sword crashed down on the warrior's helm--a very stout blow backed by a mighty surge of the Eye. The helm split and the skull beneath was cleaved in two. The creature was driven to the grass in a crumpled heap, the dark sorcery leaving it like black smoke. Lannon glanced toward the Barloak demon for confirmation that he'd won the duel, but no such signal came. He sensed rage building in the demon. At last, he sheathed his sword and fled.

The Stonemen parted to let him through, and then he was racing along over the wooded hills again. This time he heard no signs of pursuit. The forest was dreadfully silent, and Lannon didn't trust it. Suddenly he found himself moving through a thick fog that seemed to completely engulf him. He allowed the Eye to lead him on, again wondering if the entire experience with the Stonemen and their leader had been an illusion. Yet his body was terribly sore, his injuries real enough. The fog became so thick that it seemed to block out even the Eye, and suddenly Lannon wasn't sure he was moving in the right direction. Then he noticed grass beneath his feet and moonlight overhead. He broke through the wall of fog and found himself standing in open grassland. Glancing behind him, he didn't see any fog at all--as if he'd never even ed through it. But he did see the dark and tangled Old Hill Forest looming over him. With a shudder, Lannon turned his back to it and hurried on across the grassy hills toward the Watchman's Keep.

Chapter 8: The Drums of War

Once again the Battle Drum sounded in the depths of Old Hammer Hall, beaten by the gnarled hand of a Cave Troll--a reminder that war was near. The sounds of hammers striking weapons and armor also rang throughout the fortress, as the blacksmiths worked day and night in the forge, their weary bodies streaked with soot and sweat. Old Hammer Hall crawled with dark tension and madness, the torture chambers filled with the cries of the punished. Paranoia over spying had spread throughout the Soldiers' ranks, resulting in a devastating purge that snared the innocent along with the guilty. Meanwhile drooling Goblins, made eager for war by the Drum, crept through the torch-lit stone halls, yellow eyes gleaming from the shadows and bodies tense with the desire to tear into human flesh. The shadows of dark sorcery hung thick about the keep, oozing from every corner--the feeling that the end of all things had come and that all must suffer and die in the name of honor. It left a fanatical glint in the warriors' eyes and the belief in their minds that they must ride forth to glory and doom. In the Dining Chamber, Omharal sat hunched over his platter of food, his breathing labored and his face bearing a ghastly expression in the torchlight. The venison, squash, and potatoes hadn't yet been touched, with no butter, gravy, or salt having been applied. A loaf of bread lay uncut on a cloth. However, a flask of Birlote wine stood uncorked and partially consumed. "You should eat something, my lord," said Ethella. You should eat your last meal, she thought. Omharal was soon to depart from the world, the wounds inflicted by Timlin Woodmaster and his Black Flamestone too much even for the High Wizard of Bellis to overcome. It seemed a shame that he wouldn't touch such delicious food, when he perhaps only had hours to live. Omharal ignored her, reaching up to rub the bandages on his chest. The lean Birlote alchemist with the hard face and cold eyes was not dying with dignity by any means. The grimace of rage and hatred that periodically contorted his face showed what he was thinking. The Deep Shadow radiated from him in sickening waves--almost too much even for Ethella to handle. Omharal had given himself completely to Tharnin, and now it was Tharnin alone that sustained his life and

offered him a chance at revenge. The High Wizard had traded his soul for a chance to punish Taris Warhawk and his Divine Knights. "Please eat a bite or two, my lord," she said again. With a sigh, Omharal picked up his fork, gazed at it, then laid it down again. "I have no appetite." He lifted a large golden goblet and sipped some of the Birlote wine. His shaking hand caused the wine to spill down his chest, soaking his bandages in crimson, as if new blood had sprung from the wound. A servant reached forth with a cloth to wipe his chest, but Omharal shoved him away. Ethella bowed her head, overcome by despair. Omharal was her key to advancing her position of authority. With the Blood Legion weakened to the point of near extinction, the next step for Ethella was to secure a place with Bellis Kingdom. King Verlamer's wife was dead, and Ethella saw a chance at possibly being queen of all Gallamerth. Many would have considered her delusional, but she had absolute confidence in her cunning and sorcery. But she still needed a doorway through which to enter Bellis, and that doorway was closing fast. Once Omharal was dead, Bellis would probably ignore her--or even worse, they might send someone to replace Omharal who wasn't as fond of her as the High Wizard. Perhaps none of it mattered anyway. Omharal was determined to lead the Blood Legion into a war he couldn't win. He fully expected everyone to die along with him at the hands of the Divine Knights. Ethella wished there was some way to avoid the battle, but she knew in the depths of her soul it was going to happen. Everyone in Old Hammer Hall knew it, and most were ready to die. But dying was the last thing Ethella intended for herself. She wanted to rule the land forever, while bringing glory to Tharnin. She'd always felt it was her destiny to make the people of Gallamerth grovel at her feet. Yet now she was beginning to wonder if her real destiny was to die on some miserable battlefield by the sword of a Divine Knight who cared nothing for her dreams. She could only hope there was a way she could escape the carnage without looking like a coward. If only Omharal would just die now! she thought. The Battle Drum sounded again, and Omharal slammed his shaking fist down on the table. "War is coming," he mumbled. "Suffering and bloodshed the like of which Silverland has never seen. It is the will of...the Dark Gnome."

Ethella nodded, but wondered if he was insane. The Dark Gnome? What was he talking about? Ethella was a Priestess of Tharnin, but she'd never heard anyone speak of a Dark Gnome with such reverence in this day and age. Did he mean Benezeta of the forge, the ancient Olrog deity? It didn't matter. Omharal was slipping away right before her eyes. "The Dark Gnome created life," said Omharal, as if sensing her thoughts, "in his forge. He first made it twisted and ugly and named it Tharnin. Later, he hammered out the flaws, beginning with the black ice. This is what I am told." Ethella could only nod. She'd never heard such a tale and had no idea what to make of it. She was aware of several important deities of Tharnin--including the Great Beast itself that spawned the Dragons--but none of them were responsible for creating the world of the Deep Shadow. "And you pray to this...Dark Gnome?" "With time slipping away," said Omharal, "all I have left are myths and legends. But maybe they are enough. Yes, I pray that my soul will find peace in the lair of my master. Yet this troubles me greatly. If he is a creator of life, then he could allow me to live on...perhaps forever. Yet he allows me to wither away." At a loss for words, Ethella simply nodded again. Omharal's mind seemed to indeed be failing, filled with bizarre beliefs. The High Wizard was searching for hope in the depths of madness. It was pathetic. Birlotes were beyond her comprehension to begin with, and she didn't try to understand them. Omharal took another sip of wine, and again he spilled it. The servant reached forth with the cloth, and this time Omharal didn't resist. He glared at the servant but said nothing, waiting for the wine to be wiped from his bandages. "I am glad the Greater Wolf was released from its prison," the High Wizard said, nodding to himself. "So very glad to unleash the beast upon Silverland. It will bring about great suffering before all is said and done. Thus, I can take some measure of satisfaction to my grave." Ethella managed a smile, pleased he was speaking of something she could comprehend. "It was a good decision, my lord. Surely the beast will bring glory to Tharnin." She wasn't so sure of that, however. Secretly, she feared the ancient Goblin and wondered if it would eventually turn against her. The Blood Legion had kept the Wolf prisoner for centuries in the depths of Old Hammer Hall,

locked away in a frozen pit deep within earth and rock--waiting for some desperate hour to set it free. Fear had kept the Legion Council from releasing the beast, but Omharal was in command now and he had no fear. With a wave of his hand and an order from his lips, the seal of Tharnin had been broken and the Wolf had clawed its way up from the deep. Strangely, the Wolf had seemed to take commands from Omharal. The High Wizard had stood before it fearlessly on the edge of the foggy pit, whispering his will into its ear, and the Wolf had bounded off from Old Hammer Hall to do his bidding. But Ethella didn't think Omharal's hold over it would last. The Wolf was too wild and unpredictable to be controlled for long. "The beast will bring about Dremlock's ruin," said Ethella. "I know it in my heart. I have dreamt of it, my lord." That much was true. Omharal's face contorted again with bitterness. "Yet I won't be here to see it. Who knows where my spirit will lurk? If my master ignores my prayers, perhaps only in darkness and despair." He hurled his goblet against the wall, nearly striking a huge, bearded Legion Knight who stood with battle axe in hand. The Knight didn't move and his face remained stony, a fanatical glint in his eye. "It is quite unfair!" the High Wizard bellowed. "I have lived such a long time and gained so much wisdom and power... I expected to rule the land with King Verlamer for centuries. But it will not come to . I am forced into the embrace of death, far too early for my liking. And that is why I hate all life and all people. If I am to be cheated like this, I want everyone else to be cheated as well." "They deserve it, my lord," said Ethella. However, she couldn't help but feel disgust toward Omharal. When it came down to it, the High Wizard of Bellis was a petty man crushed by the weight of his own ego. He gave no thought to anyone but himself. Ethella was a cold-hearted Priestess who would gladly lie, cheat, steal, and murder to get what she wanted, as long as Tharnin Law allowed it, but she did possess some measure of loyalty to those she felt deserved it. Omharal, however, was evil in a way that even Ethella couldn't understand. Omharal gazed at his food, then shoved the platter aside. "I am even cheated out of the pleasure of eating, here in my final hours." Ethella sighed, faking a look of grave concern. "Perhaps you should let the healers examine you again." It was a pointless statement, but she found herself

uttering it regardless. "Useless," he muttered. "Not even the best healers of Bellis could save me now. I know for a fact I am doomed. I know because the Voice of Tharnin whispers the truth into my ear. I live only because of my master now. You, as a Priestess, should understand this. I have been given just enough time to lead this wretched Blood Legion into battle--just enough time to kill Taris Warhawk and anyone else I can kill before I take my last breath. I will cheat them of life as I am being cheated! I will show them how a Wizard dies!" He shook his fist at the heavens. "Cheat me, oh creator of life, and I will cheat others and leave terrible misery in my wake!" He went into a coughing fit, and a trickle of blood ran from his mouth. Ethella's eyes widened. She thought it might end here and now. She prayed to Tharnin that his health would give out before her eyes--yet it was Tharnin that extended his life, and the dark energy refused to yield. Omharal wiped the blood away. He straightened his back, looking suddenly invigorated. "To war we go, my dear." As he finished speaking, the Battle Drum boomed in agreement below.

Chapter 9: War in Hethos

After Furlus Goblincrusher and ten Knights departed for Dremlock, Taris' battalion journeyed on around the western end of the Firepit Mountains and into the forestlands of Hethos. The spring weather was warm and pleasant for traveling, with sunny skies overhead. But once they found themselves in Hethos, the sky darkened over the sprawling forests, threatening rain. As if the changing weather were a bad omen, they soon received news from their spies that the Blood Legion was advancing toward them rapidly from the northeast--led by Omharal and Ethella. It was reported that Omharal was still deeply injured from his encounter with the Black Flamestone and was perhaps bent on a suicidal mission. Taris could have simply tried to outrun the Legion on the route to Kalamede, but he knew sooner or later he would have to confront them. "I suspect this will be a bloody battle," Taris informed the Knights. "We won't escape with a mere duel this time. Omharal is barely alive and has nothing to lose. But better we fight them here than in Kalamede." "The Blood Legion must know they cannot win," said Trenton. "They are seeking simply to slow us and kill as many Divine Knights as possible." "I agree," said Shennen. "They don't expect to survive this. We're going to have a vicious fight on our hands. If we can finish off Omharal, the rest of the Legion might simply surrender or retreat." "Even weakened," said Taris, "the High Wizard of Bellis will be difficult to kill or even get close to. He will expend all of his energy on destruction. A suicidal Wizard is a very dangerous foe." "Our archers can do the job," said Shennen. "He will shield himself from the arrows," said Taris. "Omharal is more powerful than you realize, Shennen. The fact that he still lives after such a brutal attack by the Black Flamestone is proof of that. He has undoubtedly called upon the dark

sorcery of Tharnin and surrendered to it completely. When a Birlote sorcerer does that, he becomes an abomination." "Leave him to me," said Prince Vannas. "I'm not Timlin Woodmaster. He won't survive my Flamestone!" "No," said Taris, gazing sternly at the prince. "You will not engage Omharal. Leave the High Wizard to me or Trenton--whichever one of us can get to him first. Is that understood?" The prince sighed. "It is foolish, Master Taris! I can blast the Wizard right off his horse and be done with him. What's the issue?" "The issue," said Taris, "is that Omharal is cunning. He will likely anticipate such a move. Therefore, unless I give the order, you are to focus your attacks only on Legion fighters." "Very well," Vannas muttered. "I respect your wisdom, but I just don't understand it." He shrugged. "Regardless, I will do as you command. Besides, I'm sure Trenton will get to the Wizard before any of us." "I don't have the energy to...transform," said Trenton, looking unhappy. "I'm still exhausted from the battle against Bellis. In fact, my sorcery is too weak right now even to bother with. I expect to use my sword in combat." "That could be a problem," said Taris, frowning. "Without your ability to transform, we lose a huge advantage. So be it. I will deal with Omharal alone-though I will need some help getting to him. Jace, can you clear me a path?" The towering sorcerer nodded. "Of course. But if I get to Omharal first, I will be compelled to strike. I have...a personal issue with him." "Feel free," said Taris. "Just make sure he is finished this time. That vile wretch has inflicted too much misery upon this land. This will be the end of his reign of terror. He knows it will come to ." "Yes," said Jace, a fanatical glint in his eye. "Omharal will murder no more innocents after today. When a man inflicts that much carnage on the people, the world itself turns against him. He will pay a grim price."

"What about Ethella?" asked Trenton. "She is nearly as dangerous as Omharal, and the Blood Legion will fight on as long as she orders them to. Perhaps we should focus on bringing her down as well." "Ethella is indeed quite powerful," said Taris. "Yet I believe she wants no part of this suicide mission. If Omharal falls, she will likely retreat." "Perhaps I should attack Ethella," said Vannas. "No, you shall ignore her," said Taris. "She will be riding close to Omharal. As I said, you will focus only on the Legion fighters." Prince Vannas' face darkened, and he seemed about to say something. Then, with a sigh and a bow, he turned away with a sullen expression. *** At some point along the way, Taris, Trenton, and Shennen rode off into the forest and did not return for a few hours. No one besides them knew what their mission was, but the others suspected they were hiding the Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone somewhere. After all, they dared not let those items fall into the hands of their enemies, and Dremlock could not use the evil relics. When the Divine Knights rode into a large stretch of open land, they decided to take a stand there against the Legion. They set up camp and feasted, resting their bodies in preparation for battle. A storm began to rage before the meal was finished, with fierce wind and rain, and lightning flashing dangerously across the sky. Caught out in the open, they had no protection against the storm. The young Knights sat in their tent, drying themselves and hoping the lightning wouldn't find them, when Taris entered--leading Vorden Flameblade. The young Knights exchanged startled glances. In return, Vorden gazed at them with his yellow eyes, and then bowed his head. He wasn't shackled, and his strange spider-rune sword had been returned to him, sheathed at his hip. He also wore his mighty black-and-gold armor, holding his helm in one hand. The only thing missing was the Hand of Tharnin. Otherwise, Vorden looked like the leader of the Blood Legion once again, and the others were shocked. Aldreya wondered what Taris was thinking in letting Vorden not only walk free--but arm himself with powerful gear.

"As you know," Taris explained, "I expect the coming battle with the Blood Legion to be very fierce. This will be a fight to the death. We all must do what we can to protect ourselves. Vorden has shown immense improvement, and I believe he is ready to walk free amongst us. To leave him shackled in a wagon is not only unnecessary at this point, but wrong. And foolish too. He is a formidable warrior and should be allowed into battle." Aldreya forced a smile. "Welcome back, Vorden." The image of him in that armor, with the dark sword at his hip, flooded her with grim memories. Nevertheless, she extended her hand. Vorden accepted it briefly. His cold touch made her flinch. Clearly, Taris had great faith in Vorden--but Vorden certainly wasn't the Squire of old. He seemed surrounded by darkness and gloom, leftover traces of the Deep Shadow that Aldreya found quite unsettling. The others greeted Vorden as well, but harbored somber expressions. Prince Vannas rose, looking upset. "Don't worry about me," said Vorden, obviously noticing their grim expressions. "I promise I won't be a bother to anyone. I'm just grateful to have a chance to defend myself against the Blood Legion." His eyes narrowed. "Actually, I must it I harbor a grudge against them." "This is nothing personal," said Prince Vannas, gazing at Taris, "but this tent is reserved for of the Divine Shield. And we're all Knights now. Vorden is a mere Squire, and not one of us." "Vorden is a Grey Keeper," said Taris. "And this tent is also reserved for Grey Keepers." "Since when is a Vorden a Grey Keeper?" asked Vannas, raising his eyebrows. "I don't recall any mention of that." "Since now," said Taris. "I appointed him to the group only moments ago. He is ranked below Aldreya, you, and Lannon--on the level of Jerret, Galvia, and Lothrin. Do you have an issue with that?" Vannas bowed. "I'm sorry, Master Taris, but it is my duty to question things, especially when they concern my safety. Vorden was, until recently, under the influence of a demon and in the clutches of the Deep Shadow. He was the leader of the Blood Legion and a servant of Tenneth Bard! Now I find him standing in

my tent, wearing his invincible armor and with a mighty sword at his side. I am quite alarmed by this. I fear for the safety of the White Flamestone." "Your concerns are noted," said Taris. "But I assure you Vorden is safe enough and firmly on our side. He has been carefully evaluated and found to have honorable intent. You will treat him with respect." "Like Thrake Wolfaxe was evaluated?" asked Vannas. Taris' face darkened under his hood. "Thrake was not evaluated. We had no idea Thrake was contaminated by the Deep Shadow, and thus we never felt the need to test him. Get your facts in order, Prince Vannas. Vorden has been subjected to several tests. He is ready to fight for Dremlock." "I understand," said Vannas, but he looked unhappy. "I can go elsewhere," said Vorden, a touch of hurt in his voice. "I don't want to be a bother. Just give me a small tent and I'll make do on my own. I understand if no one trusts me yet. In time, I will earn trust and respect." "Nonsense," said Taris. "There will be no further discussion of this topic. You will remain here and receive your orders from Aldreya. I'm sure she has a detailed battle plan for you. We must focus entirely on the Blood Legion until the fight is over." With that, Taris turned and strode from the tent. Aldreya gazed after him, annoyed with herself. She hadn't even considered making a battle plan. In fact, she'd assumed Jace and the High Council would take care of that. She realized that as the leader of the Grey Keepers, she needed to get more involved in things. With Lannon missing, her leadership role had faded to the back of her mind, but Taris obviously wanted things to proceed as if Lannon were still present. "Sit down and relax," she said to Vorden. "Dry yourself off. You are a Grey Keeper now and will be treated accordingly." Vorden sat down, apart from the others. "So what's the plan?" Steam rose from his clothes, while the others looked on with surprised expressions. Even his black hair became completely dry in an instant. The temperature in the tent had increased enough that Jerret wiped sweat from his brow.

"The plan..." said Aldreya, scratching her head. "Of course." She tried to think quickly but could come up with nothing. Finally she said, "Well, my plan isn't complete, actually, so I'm looking for some input." Jerret smirked. "Okay, here's my input. We crush some skulls." "Good plan!" said Galvia, grinning. The Grey Dwarf slapped hands with Jerret. "I'm just going to swing at any foe that comes near me." "We need a better strategy than that," Vorden said quietly. "I think we should hold a specific formation," said Lothrin, "and protect Prince Vannas at all costs. We will be his closest defenders." "I don't like it," said Vannas, sitting back down but still looking restless. "I don't want people so close to me. It makes it harder to wield the Flamestone. In fact, the biggest drawback to my weapon is that I never seem to have a good vantage point from which to use it. There is always someone in my way." "What you mean," said Lothrin, glaring, "is that you don't want me close to you. I get it. Fine, I'll stay back. But let the others protect you." "Let's not bring up that topic," Aldreya said quickly. "We have no time to fight amongst ourselves. The Blood Legion is on its way!" "It's not that, cousin," said Vannas, ignoring Aldreya. "I just prefer some space so I don't accidentally blast anyone with white fire. One of my greatest fears is that I will kill one of our Knights--maybe even one of you. It could happen easily, especially when things get chaotic." "We can leave a bubble around the prince," said Vorden. "Let Jerret and I guard his flanks. Galvia can fight at the front, smashing anyone who gets close. Lothrin and Aldreya have ranged attacks and can stand behind." Aldreya nodded. "That sounds reasonable enough." She was pleased that Vorden was acting like his old self--the Squire she knew before the disaster with the Hand of Tharnin--and quickly showing his leadership skills. She'd always known Vorden was brilliant, and his presence--as startling as it was--helped shore up her confidence in her own ability to lead the Grey Keepers.

"If only Lannon were here," Vorden muttered. For an instant a look of deep frustration appeared on his face. "At last I have been set free, but my best friend is lost to us. I wish I could have searched for him myself." "He'll return," said Aldreya, showing confidence she didn't feel. "Taris and Uncle Jace believe it, and who would know better than them?" "I don't know," said Vorden, with a sigh. "But I fear greatly for his safety. The beast that stalks him is a terrible foe. I know how it thinks, what it can do." He seemed lost in a fog of memories for a moment; then he shrugged. "Regardless, we're still here and soon to fight for our lives. Let's make it a good battle." "Oh, it will be," said Jerret. "I can't wait." Vorden frowned at him. "I hate to bring this up, but you've become quite a warrior, Jerret--maybe too much of one. It worries me. I think I prefer the old, lazy Jerret Dragonsbane who hated combat." Jerret groaned. "Back for a few minutes, and already lecturing me. And I never hated combat. I just hated training for it." Vorden shook his head. "No, it's just that I suffered so much in the clutches of the Deep Shadow. And Timlin's death haunts me...the fact that I was unable to save him. I don't want to see anyone else lose their way." Aldreya considered halting the conversation before tempers flared, but Vorden spoke true and she felt Jerret needed to hear it. "I won't lose my way," said Jerret, rolling his eyes. "Or my head. Dremlock wants Knights who aren't afraid of pain and bloodshed, not weaklings who shy away from brutal combat. I have simply become what they wanted me to be. My honor is intact, Vorden. I've never broken the Sacred Laws...well, at least not recently. I fight in defense of my kingdom and the people of this land. So what if I enjoy it? Why shouldn't we enjoy what we do in life?" "To take pleasure in combat," said Vorden, "is a dangerous path. Trust me, Jerret. I know the Deep Shadow as well as anyone. It seeks out such character flaws and exploits them. Treat warfare as a necessary evil, my friend, and leave it at that. Otherwise, you allow dark doorways to open."

"Whatever," said Jerret, with a chuckle. "I'm not a Squire anymore who needs to be lectured. Thanks for the advice, and I'll consider it. I'm glad you're free now and getting back to being who you were, but I don't need you to watch over me. I'm a Knight now, and you're still a Squire. Bear that in mind. Now can we get back to making this battle plan?" "I think the plan is made," said Aldreya. "We'll try to hold that formation. What else can we do? Truthfully, I'm not sure what Taris was talking about. I've never been asked to make a battle plan before. I hope this qualifies." "A good plan need not be complex," said Lothrin. "I think we have a simple yet sound combat formation in mind." "It's too simple," said Vannas. "How can I launch attacks when I won't even be able to see my enemies? I'll have a crowd of Divine Knights around me. I need to stand on something, like that platform in the battle against Bellis." "A height advantage," said Vorden, "also makes you an easy, stationary target. As I recall, you were almost killed atop that platform, correct?" Vannas looked away. "I was hit by an arrow, yes." "Well, I have a better idea," said Vorden. "I suggest a mobile position and a temporary height adjustment. I can lift you for a moment, until you've launched an attack. Then I'll lower you again. Simple and easy." Vannas hesitated, looking uncertain. "You could lift me up? I'll be wearing heavy armor, mind you, and you'll be vulnerable while you do it." "It won't be a problem," said Vorden. "You will be head and shoulders above everyone but Jace. As far as myself, I'm not worried about taking damage. My armor is stout, and the others can watch over both of us." "With all due respect," said Vannas, "I'm not comfortable with you putting your hands on me, Vorden. I'm not convinced you're back to normal." He glanced at Aldreya and added, "I'm not bringing up the forbidden topic again, as this is different. My top priority is protecting the White Flamestone." Vorden shrugged. "It's your choice. I simply offered to assist you in combat. Take it or leave it, good prince. I assure you I'm not interested in the Flamestone.

I have my sword, my armor, and quite a bit of powerful sorcery. The Flamestone would be useless in my hands. It would probably burn me." "I doubt it would burn you," said Aldreya. "You're not a monster." Truthfully, she wondered if it would in fact burn him. It was a sacred part of the Divine Essence and Vorden still harbored traces of the Deep Shadow. Vannas drummed his fingers on the tent floor and sighed. "Well, Taris probably won't permit me to stand in the saddle or on a wagon. That being the case...I suppose we could give it a try. Are you sure you're strong enough? It may get very tiring to keep lifting me into the air." Vorden nodded. "I'm stronger than you would believe, and you're not exactly a large person. It should be quite easy." "I think it's a great idea," said Aldreya, pleased that they had something to work with. Lifting Vannas into the air was such a simple strategy, yet only Vorden had come up with it. Somehow, he could see things that others missed. "We have a good plan in mind, and we'll fight in Lannon's name!" "Indeed," said Vorden, smiling. "As Taris explained to me earlier, as Grey Keepers our duty is to assist Lannon. Well, since he's gone all we can do is fight on in his name and do what he would expect us to do." After that, the Grey Keepers fell into a sullen silence. They were a group without a purpose--until (and if) Lannon returned. All they could do now was listen to the pounding rain and thunder, and watch the deadly lightning flash outside, as they waited for the bloodshed to begin. *** They waited as long as they could, focusing on shielding themselves from the weather--until the Blood Legion was almost upon them. Then they gathered on horseback in formation--row upon row of Knights, with the Divine Shield near the middle. Archers crouched atop wagons and saddles, not yet daring to stand tall beneath the storm. The wind and rain hammered at them, but that was of minor concern compared to the lightning that split the darkened sky. They watched the forest in the distance, waiting for the Legion army to burst forth into open land. There were no ambushes planned or complex strategies. The two armies simply intended to clash face to face and brutalize each other until

victory was achieved. The Grey Keepers stood in their planned formation--with Prince Vannas and Vorden at the middle. No one questioned them, for the other Knights were focused on their own strategies. The Grey Keepers were guarded by Trenton, Shennen, and Daledus on horseback. Taris and Jace, however, were gathered at the forefront of the army alongside the Red and Brown Knights--where they would have a better chance of getting to Omharal. Because the Grey Keepers were on foot, surrounded by Knights on huge Greywind horses, Vannas was skeptical he could gain a height advantage even with Vorden lifting him. However, Vorden demonstrated his intentions by seizing Vannas' ankles and lifting him easily high into the air. After that, the prince seemed confident enough and eager for battle. The first foes to emerge into the open battlefield were a pair of enormous, heavily-muscled Trolls. Their snarling, pig-snout faces were revealed in the lightning. Their grey, bumpy skin was almost as hard as stone. As they charged forward, spiked clubs in hand, Dremlock's archers rose and fired a volley of arrows. Dozens of shafts rained down on the trolls--but deflected away from the armor-like skin. Behind the Trolls came more Goblins (Ogres, Jackals, and Wolves) bounding along with wild eyes and drooling mouths. The arrows felled some of these lesser creatures. Last but not least came the Blood Legion warriors on horseback--bearded barbarians in heavy armor in a berserk state of rage. Dremlock's horns sounded, and Shennen said to Vannas, "Quickly, take down the two Trolls before they reach us!" Vorden heaved the prince into the air, but Vannas hesitated. "I think they're still out of range. Give me a moment." "Attack them now!" Shennen insisted. Vannas did as commanded, the white fire blasting out over Dremlock's Knights, but he groaned. "I missed. I need a moment to concentrate!" Shennen didn't reply. His face was tense. Moments later, Vannas launched another spear of white fire, and this time he cheered. "One Troll down, and one to go."

Aldreya grinned, pleased that Vorden's idea had already worked so well. But the prince missed again, and the Troll slammed into the wall of Divine Knights, sending broken bodies flying through the air. Vannas shook his head. "Can't get a clear shot at it now." Shennen cursed the Troll. "Prince Vannas," he commanded, "focus your attacks on the Legion fighters, where they are clustered closest together--apart from our own warriors. Watch for Jace and Taris in the enemy ranks." As Vannas blasted away, the two armies clashed amidst the raging storm. This was the most vicious battle Aldreya had ever witnessed, as heavy weapons rose and fell and blood soaked the muddy ground. She stood waiting for the enemy to reach her, striving to focus on summoning her sorcery. This was much different than the battle with Bellis, where relatively calm strategies had been employed. The Legion fighters were raging barbarians, and the carnage they inflicted was devastating. The bearded giants flung themselves at the Divine Knights with no regard for their own life or limb, their war bellows heard over the rain and thunder. The lone Troll continued to wreak havoc on Knights and horses, as burning weapons glanced off its skin. Its spiked club--the size of a tree trunk--rose high into the air before crashing down with terrible force, leaving crushed bodies in the mud. Stout Knights, who had survived dozens of battles, were battered into ruin in an instant as the Troll's rampage commenced. "We need to dispatch that Troll!" Shennen growled. He bellowed at the archers to shoot it through the eyeball--the only vulnerable spot on its body. But the task was nearly impossible in the wind, rain, and darkness of the clouds--along with the mass confusion of battle. "What should we do?" Trenton asked, looking helpless as he stood holding his sword. "If only I had use of my sorcery!" "I'm going after the Troll," said Shennen, sheathing a short sword and drawing his curved Flayer. "If it isn't stopped, it will kill half our Knights!" With that, he rode off through the fray in the Troll's direction. Daledus followed him. "Go and help them," said Aldreya, motioning to Galvia. Galvia's skill of Fire could burn through Troll flesh.

"What about our formation?" asked Jerret. Aldreya shook her head, realizing it wasn't going to matter in this fight. There was too much confusion to worry about holding formation. Soon the chaos would spread across the battlefield under the blackened sky, a storm of destruction mingled with nature's storm. Everyone would end up having to fend for themselves anyway. Again, she waved Galvia onward. As the armies met, Omharal and Ethella closed in on horseback. The High Wizard sat slouched in the saddle, his chest heavily bandaged. His face was a frozen, leering mask that promised pain and death. He was flanked by two archers dressed in black, with hoods like executioners. At Omharal's signal, the archers fired arrows into the Divine Knights that burst open to release a yellow, toxic smoke. Several Knights went down, writhing about in agony and gasping and coughing. Some tore at their bodies, trying to remove armor and clothing as if being scorched. "I can kill the Wizard," said Vannas. "I have a clear shot at him." Trenton hesitated, then said (with some reluctance in his voice), "We will do as Taris commanded. He had his reasons for giving that order. Ignore the Wizard and focus on the Legion fighters." Vannas grimaced in frustration. "But this is so foolish, Trenton. His archers are poisoning our Knights. I can kill all three of them with one shot--and maybe Ethella too. How can I ignore this golden opportunity?" He raised the glowing Flamestone, his eyes blazing with focus. Aldreya considered ordering him to halt, but she despised Omharal to the depths of her soul. This traitor to her people had slain more innocents and created more suffering than anyone she knew of--with his deadly poisons and brilliant understanding of how to inspire terror throughout the land. He was an embarrassment to the royal family and a great shame upon the Birlote Wizards. Even Tenneth Bard seemed honorable in comparison to this foul tyrant. She wanted Vannas to turn the White Flamestone against him and see justice served. It seemed fitting that the sacred White Fire would do away with such evil. She could see no reason why Taris had commanded the prince to ignore Omharal, and so she kept quiet. As the white fire hurtled forth and reached its target, Vannas cried out in despair.

He sagged down, as if his muscles had given out. "I...I've been tricked! It was an illusion of some sort placed in my mind by the Deep Shadow. I just killed some of our Knights--burned them to ash, armor and all!" Aldreya gasped, instantly promising herself never to question Taris again. Now Vannas would have to live with that terrible burden--and so would she. Had she ordered Vannas to avoid attacking Omharal, there was a chance he might have listened--and those Knights would still be alive. Trenton bellowed in frustration. "I told you not to attack him, you arrogant fool of a prince! Now look what you've done!" Vannas bowed his head. "I should never have been given the Flamestone. I...I wish I had never--" With a howl of pain, he lost his balance and toppled over into the mud, landing on his side. An arrow protruded from his shoulder. Vorden, Aldreya, and Lothrin knelt by the prince, as Jerret stood nearby watching for the enemy to reach them. "I deserve to die," said Vannas. "Leave me be." "Nonsense, my cousin," said Lothrin, inspecting the wound, deep sorrow on his face. "And you'll survive this and grow stronger from it." Lothrin reached for the arrow. But Vannas slapped his hand away. "I said leave me be!" the prince cried, tears flowing. "Let us help you," said Vorden, "while there is still time." Lothrin pointed at a black substance that coated the arrow. "Poison, most likely." He shouted and waved to a healer who stood by a wagon, but thunder boomed across the battlefield, drowning out his yell. "Well, this is a wretched turn of events!" Trenton muttered, still looking helpless as he stood in the lashing rain. "His fight is ended," said Aldreya, with a glance at Vorden. "We will have to make do without him. Perhaps it is for the better." After what had just happened, she'd lost faith in the Flamestone and Vannas' ability to control it. She was appalled that the sacred fire had slain some of their Knights. It seemed to be

growing wild in Vannas' hands, a menace to all in its path. But the Flamestone suddenly flared to life, pulsating like a beating heart in response to Vannas' pain, misery, and failing health from the poison. Somehow Aldreya could sense what was happening to him--her instincts heightened by Taris' training sessions. It was an intuition shared by powerful sorcerers--almost like she possessed a lesser version of the Eye of Divinity. She watched as Vannas' teeth clenched in sudden rage, and his eyes turned white. The gem became blinding in his hands, and the arrow lodged in his shoulder erupted into flames and burned to ash. The glow lessened in intensity, and the prince rose in a swift, smooth motion, his face crimson and sinister-looking in the pale light. His body was engulfed in white fire, burning the poison from his blood and charging him with lethal energy. He looked like he might simply explode and wipe out the entire battlefield. "That's the spirit!" said Vorden, grinning. His yellow eyes gleamed with delight. "Come, my good prince. You have the power--like nothing I've ever felt. Send the Blood Legion into a smoldering ash pit!" The prince nodded. "It shall be done." Aldreya was chilled to the bone. Vannas seemed suddenly overcome by evil, and she wasn't sure what to do. She glanced at Trenton for help, but he seemed frozen in place, his eyes wide. Lothrin also looked appalled, but he too seemed unsure of what action to take. Vorden lifted Vannas into the air again. The prince raised the Flamestone to the heavens, and enormous blasts of white fire streaked through the air and battered the Blood Legion, scattering burning enemies all over the ground. Vannas was engulfed in power and completely lost--like a god who was intent on punishing mortals, without thought or concern. He stood like a glowing statue carved from white stone. Even his clothes had gone pale. "He has reached a new level," Vorden said, turning to grin at Aldreya. "Like Olzet Ka from the ancient times. How can we ever lose another battle? This is indeed a glorious day for Dremlock." More arrows struck Prince Vannas--and burned to ash on . He seemed invincible, the vengeance of the Divine Essence in human form. The Blood Legion found itself facing a foe it couldn't touch, yet still the barbarians fought

on, even knowing they were doomed to fall. Unfortunately, a few more Divine Knights also got caught in the flames and perished. Lothrin's eyes were wild as he gazed at the prince. "Put him down, Vorden!" he cried. "He is losing himself forever!" "He'll be fine," Vorden grunted. "He's just charged up for the battle. We don't want to spoil this amazing moment." But Lothrin was not convinced, and he seized Vannas' tunic and shook him. "Come down from there, my cousin!" But the prince ignored Lothrin. With a scowl, Vorden kicked Lothrin in the stomach, sending the Ranger into the mud. "Stay away from him. The prince cannot be interfered with." Lothrin leapt up, desperation in his eyes. "Make him stop!" he yelled to Aldreya. "Order Vorden to bring him down by force!" Aldreya hesitated, unsure of what to do. But the haunted look on Lothrin's face was so compelling that at last she commanded: "Vorden, I order you to lower the prince and seize the Flamestone." She wondered if she was making a terrible decision, but she all she could do was trust her instincts. Vorden glared at her and did nothing. "By order of Taris," said Aldreya, "I am in command. Will you defy Taris--the one who brought you back from the Deep Shadow?" "Do it, Vorden!" Trenton ordered. "I too sense that something is very wrong. This...this must be stopped!" With a sigh, Vorden pulled the prince down into the mud. He ripped the Flamestone from his hand, cried out in pain, and tossed it away. Vorden stood on shaky legs, his hands and face scorched red. Smoke rose from his armor. Lothrin leapt onto the Flamestone and shoved it in his tunic pocket. His hand lingered inside the pocket, clutching the gem. "He burned me," Vorden mumbled, looking stunned. "It was so hot I thought I might turn to ash inside my armor." He gasped for breath for a moment, while

raising his arms to the rain--as if letting it cool him down. When he could talk again, he added, "It took all of my power to save myself. His will is incredibly strong." The prince lay motionless, his eyes closed. "What happened?" asked Aldreya, wondering if Vorden had turned his sorcery against Vannas. "Did you harm him?" "I didn't do anything to him," said Vorden, "at least on purpose. I think he is simply unconscious. I guess I shouldn't have ripped the Flamestone from his hands. I think that shocked him somehow--disrupted his energy." "You did the right thing," said Lothrin, kneeling next to his cousin. "There is a chance now that he can be saved." Vorden looked puzzled. "Saved from what?" Lothrin gazed up at him piercingly. "Saved from becoming what you were--a rampaging monster and a prisoner in your own flesh." "But the White Flamestone is sacred," said Vorden, "and not like the evil of the Hand of Tharnin. How can you compare the two?" Lothrin shrugged. "Power is power. All of it can corrupt." At that point, the Blood Legion forces fought their way to the Grey Keepers in a flood of war horses, heavy armor, and hacking weapons--and there was no more time for talk. The young warriors had to fight or die. *** When Lannon reached the Watchman's Keep, a spring storm (typical for Silverland) was raging. There was still plenty of daylight left, but the blackened sky cast a heavy shadow over the land. Thunder boomed across the hills, lightning flashed in the west, and the rain drove down in windswept sheets. Lannon's waterproof Birlote cloak kept him dry for a time, but the storm was so fierce he ended up soaking wet beneath the garment. Once again he found himself wishing he possessed Knightly fire so he could dry himself. For all its many powers, the Eye of Divinity couldn't prevent him from being damp, cold,

and miserable. As Lannon stood before the tower, the raindrops beating against his silk hood and the oaks around him swaying in the wind, he realized he'd lost track of time. Something important had happened to him out in the grasslands after he'd made his escape from Old Hill Forest. He felt like he'd been on an adventure, but his memory seemed frozen--clouded with bizarre images of blue ice that popped into existence and then faded away just as quickly. His shoulder was torn open, possibly from teeth or claws--a gaping wound that would require healing meditation (though he was more concerned with the annoying hole in his cloak). He also held a gold coin in his hand adorned with an image of a Dwarven King. The Eye of Divinity revealed nothing about his wound or the coin. Lannon could almost something about blue ice and a dangerous journey below ground. He'd lost something on that journey--certain memories and perhaps something else. He also recalled a shadowy tomb of the ancient dead lurking somewhere in the hills--a tiny fragment of a memory. He had the feeling that something amazing had happened to him. But his mind had been damaged on some forgotten quest, seared by bitter ice, and now there were holes in his life--missing time he hadn't even been aware of until now. How many days had ed since the Wolf had abducted him? He wondered if it was all a trick of the Deep Shadow or some weird business concerning the Eye. Lannon shuddered at the thought that he'd lost himself out there in the hills-possibly for days--and hoped it would never happen again. The entire journey had been surreal and bizarre, and now, as he stood with the dark tower looming above him, he breathed a sigh of relief that it was over. The Wolf had accomplished its mission--to separate Lannon from his companions and leave him lost and confused. But the Watchman's Keep offered a strange reassurance, reminding him of his place in the world. Aside from Dremlock, this was his other home, and even though it was partially cursed by the Deep Shadow and quite dangerous, it inspired optimism within him. It was a great place to rest and get his thoughts in order. Lannon glanced at the gold coin, shrugged, and stuck it in his pocket. Perhaps someday he would . For now, he was back to normal and ready to rest for a while before moving on to Kalamede. In spite of the storm, Lannon was in the mood to explore, and he took an interest

in a nearby apple tree. It was quite large for a tree of its kind and very gnarled, its sprawling branches touching the ground in some places. It stood in the small, mossy clearing that surrounded the tower, away from the shade of the huge oaks in the grove. Lannon found this lone fruit tree compelling, and the Eye revealed it had been planted by the Birlotes and had lived for centuries. It still harbored the magic of the Tree Dwellers that gave it strength and longevity, but it was also infested with the Deep Shadow. The apples it would bear as summer drew close to fall were poisonous, causing a disease of Tharnin that would eat away at the body and mind. Lannon understood all too well the affects of an illness like that, since his father had fallen victim to such contaminated food. Lannon walked to the tree and stood beneath it, allowing its sturdy branches to shelter him a bit from the wind and rain. He could sense the Birlote magic--still so strong and wanting to break free--but the Deep Shadow held it in check, forcing the once noble tree that had borne sweet, delicious fruit to live as an abomination. Lannon ran his hands over the rugged, mossy trunk that was partially webbed in vines. At first it seemed cold to his touch, but underneath there was warmth to be found. He vowed to begin removing the curse from the Watchmen's Keep by freeing this tree. If he could drive out the Deep Shadow here, he could do it elsewhere and perhaps free the entire tower from its grasp. But he had no idea how to begin. "I'll return for you," Lannon said to the apple tree, patting its trunk. "Someday I'll taste your fruit, as the Watchman of old did." But he wasn't sure if he had the power to drive out the Deep Shadow without killing the host. That was a task more suited to a White Knight. Lannon turned away from the tree and its suffering. It was time to enter the keep again. He'd been away for too long, and he was overcome by the urge to walk the stone rooms and halls where the bones of many adventurers lay in dust. They had perished because they--unlike Lannon--were intruders there. They were not welcome. The tower had been designed for a Dark Watchman alone, and for anyone else to enter it was folly. Yet Taris Warhawk had explored the keep more than once and lived to tell of it, and Lannon's respect for the sorcerer's skills was immense. The tower was a deathtrap--a smoldering lair of sorcery--which was why its secrets had endured for so long after the fall of the Dark Watchmen. A screech split the air and Lannon whirled around, drawing his sword. It had seemed to come from the apple tree. Glancing up, he saw something he'd missed

before--a large Elder Hawk perched amongst the branches, blending in with the craggy wood. Unlike Dremlock's Hawks, this one had a wild look about it. It cocked its head to one side as it watched Lannon, and then suddenly flew off through the rain with a beating of wings and entered a lofty tower window. Lannon smiled, thinking he'd found a potential friend. So the Watchmen's Keep still had a living occupant after all. It was possible the Elder Hawk was a descendant of ones that had served the Dark Watchmen--or it could have simply been a wild Hawk that had found a home in the keep. As Lannon approached the tower, a shiver of dread ran down his spine. But this was his home, and he wasn't about to let fear keep him out. He gazed up at the vine-covered stone blocks, wondering what secrets still remained sealed away within. As he ed between the two statues of cloaked, hooded figures with swords, a sense of belonging washed over him. Those statues represented his processors--warriors who once defended the land from evil. Their spirit lived on through Lannon. He seized the stone door with the Eye and pulled it open. He slipped inside, and the door closed behind him, shutting out the driving rain. "Home again at last," Lannon mumbled, musty air filling his lungs. He could only hope the Watchmen's Keep wouldn't become his tomb. *** As the Legion Soldiers charged, Jerret seized a bearded rider and dragged him from his horse. They grappled in the mud for a few moments, and then both rose, dripping, burning weapons in hand. The warrior's axe slammed against Jerret's Glaetherin broadsword in a shower of sparks, and the axe shattered into fragments. The broadsword drove through the barbarian's plate armor and found his heart. Jerret yanked his blade free as he kicked the warrior onto his back. He stood for a moment looking at the dead man, a grim look on his face. This was no Goblin that lay slain before him, but a Norack man like Jerret. However, this was war and there was no time to dwell on such things--for another barbarian soon closed in on the Red Knight, thrusting a spear at his chest. Lothrin slew the spearman with a perfectly placed arrow that killed him instantly. The Ranger stood over Prince Vannas protectively, another arrow already in his bow. But the fighting was now in such close quarters that Lothrin

quickly put away the bow and drew his long dagger--just in time to twist out of the way of a sword stroke aimed at his neck from a huge barbarian with a horned helm. His eyes blazing, Lothrin's dagger lashed out--so quickly the eye couldn't follow it, and the barbarian clutched at his throat, his eyes wide with shock. He staggered and then fell, bleeding his life away. Aldreya also stood by Vannas, her flaming stone dagger held ready. With the prince still down, he was in grave danger of being trampled. She vowed that the enemy would get to him over her dead body. Another heavily armored barbarian rode toward her, a sneer on his lips. The giant rider gazed arrogantly at the slender Birlote girl, his battle axe poised to crush her into the mud. Aldreya had only an instant to focus, and then she hurled a blazing green fireball at his chest. In an incredibly swift move, the rider batted the fireball aside with his axe and continued his charge. But one of the Brown Knights swung his heavy, spiked shield and smashed the rider off his horse. As the two warriors went down, the barbarian punched the Brown Knight in the jaw and stunned him. As the barbarian rose, axe in hand, Aldreya hurled another fireball. This time the barbarian failed to defend against it, and the burning orb of sorcery exploded into his chest, killing him instantly. Vorden simply stood by Vannas, a troubled look on his face. He seemed to be fighting some internal battle and had yet to the fray. His sword seemed to hang limp in his hand, as if he had no intention of using it. A blinding flash of lightning erupted, and the rain crashed down harder. A wall of Knights closed around Prince Vannas, pushing Lothrin and Aldreya from the circle. The Knights fought fiercely to defend the prince--not knowing that Lothrin held the White Flamestone in his cloak. Two barbarians took Jerret to the ground. As the Red Knight fought to get on his feet, one of the Legion warriors drove his sword into Jerret's stomach, breaking through Jerret's armor and pinning him to the ground. Jerret cried out in agony, as blood poured from the wound. Aldreya prepared to throw a fireball, but Lothrin got in her way. With a battle cry, he charged the Soldiers--his dagger pitted against a huge sword and axe. The axe fighter turned and swung at Lothrin's head, but the Ranger easily ducked the

blow. Lothrin slammed his Birlote dagger into the warrior's chest, driving through the thick leather armor. The barbarian's legs gave out and he fell, critically wounded. He didn't rise again. The other warrior wrenched his sword from Jerret's body and swung it at Lothrin's legs. The Ranger leapt over the blade while lashing out with his dagger and catching the barbarian in the throat, ending his life. Lothrin had slain three men, and that caught the Blood Legion's attention. They focused several attacks on him that might have been too much even for the agile Ranger--except that the others came to his aid. Finally, Vorden seemed to snap out of his trance. He donned his helm and ed the fight. One of the Blood Legion Knights charged him with a spear, and then hesitated, a shocked look on his face. He recognized Vorden as the former leader of the Legion, his will faltering. His yellow eyes smoldering beneath his helm, Vorden charged the warrior, swinging his ancient spider-rune blade. The elite Glaetherin sword cut through the barbarian's heavy plate armor with ease and slew the man. Vorden stood over his fallen foe, again seemingly locked in some internal struggle. Aldreya wondered what was going on in his mind, if he was in danger of losing himself to the Deep Shadow again. However, the fact that Taris had allowed Vorden to fight gave her confidence that he would hold himself together. Aldreya watched as a barbarian ran up behind Vorden with spear in hand. She cried out a warning, but it was too late. The barbarian drove the spear against Vorden's back, a perfect strike right between the shoulder blades. However, the spear snapped in two against Vorden's armor. Vorden whirled around and, quick as a striking serpent, seized the man's throat with one hand. He lifted the muscular Soldier into the air as if he were weightless. The spear fell from the shocked Soldier's grasp. Vorden stood like an armored statue for a moment, as if deciding what to do next. Then his hand closed on the warrior's throat, finishing him. Vorden flung the slain man aside. In another area of the battlefield, it was actually a simple Brown Knight who ended the Troll's life. While Shennen, Galvia, and Daledus fought fiercely against the beast, some of the other Knights finally managed to drag it down with ropes around its legs. Once they pulled it into the mud, the Brown Knight

named Evern Stormhawk hacked into the Troll's neck repeatedly with his broadsword, at last breaking through the stony flesh and beheading the beast. Meanwhile, Jace and Taris fought their way toward Omharal. The two sorcerers seemed unstoppable, flinging enemies aside with fist and fire and they penetrated deep into enemy ranks. Shennen organized a small group of elite Knights and charged after Jace and Taris. With blazing weapons, the Divine Knights quickly cut a path through the Legion forces. Omharal ordered his archers to fire the poison-vapor arrows at those who were coming after him, not caring if his own warriors were killed in the process. One of the arrows landed near Taris Warhawk, and the sorcerer went down--felled by the toxic smoke, along with several Legion fighters. The fighters stayed down-some injured and some dead, but Taris rose, looking enraged, and tried to move on; but he kept doubling over and coughing. He was severely weakened and had all he could do to defend himself from the Legion warriors. Jace managed to keep going, and he seized one of Omharal's archers and hurled him from his horse. Before he could get to the High Wizard, Ethella cut him off, swinging her smoldering crystal staff at his head. Jace seized the staff in one huge hand and yanked her off her horse. The two sorcerers went down in the mud, locked in a struggle of wills. At last, Jace broke Ethella's demonic staff in two with a blinding explosion of crimson light and hurled the pieces aside. The two sorcerers rose, facing each other. Jace raised his bony fist, preparing to finish her. His purple cloak was torn and smoking and his face was scorched, but his eyes burned with focus. A stunned look on her face, Ethella turned and fled on foot through the rain and riders, leaving Omharal and the Blood Legion to fend for themselves. Jace let her go and instead tried to get to the High Wizard, though he was cut off by several Legion Knights. Shennen and a few of his Knights reached Omharal, and the master assassin leapt from his horse and took the High Wizard to the ground. Shennen's Flayer deflected off an invisible shield, however, and the Blue Knight was thrown back. Omharal rose, and his bladed staff made a hissing noise. Shennen ducked as a poison dart shot from the staff and missed him by inches. The dart stuck in one of the Legion Knights, and the fellow gasped and staggered, his face turning purple. He toppled over in death.

Omharal glowered with rage, and an instant later Shennen deflected some invisible attack with his burning Flayer. Only Shennen could see or sense the projectile that the High Wizard flung at him, for the onlookers glimpsed nothing except blue sparks where the Flayer struck the projectile and batted it aside. Omharal's eyes widened in shock, for the attack that Shennen had blocked was one that had slain many men and was thought to be impossible to defend against-the attack that made Omharal so feared throughout the land. Omharal then sought to summon his sorcery, but he was too slow. Shennen lashed out with his Flayer and beheaded the High Wizard--a wound which even a sorcerer like Omharal could not survive. The tyrant's reign of terror was ended at last at the hands of Dremlock's elite assassin. After that, the battle became a route in Dremlock's favor. Without the terrifying presence of Omharal to drive them on, many of the lesser Legion warriors simply retreated. Some of the Legion Knights refused to give up, however, and they fought until death or injury forced them to stop. Dremlock lost dozens of warriors, including one unfortunate fellow who had been struck by lightning atop his horse. Several Divine Knights had perished from Omharal's toxic arrows. And now Dremlock had close to a hundred Blood Legion prisoners to deal with, along with scores of wounded fighters on both sides. The journey to Kalamede had ground to a halt.

Chapter 10: The Dark Watchmen

Lannon stood dripping on the stone floor, grateful to be free of the storm. He gazed at the octagonal chamber around him, wishing it contained a chair so that he might sit in comfort for a while. It was such a bland chamber, with only a trapdoor at the middle and a hole in the ceiling that led to the next floor. But Lannon could glimpse how it once was--with warm rugs, a circular oaken table and padded chairs, barrels of drink in the corners, paintings on the walls, statues, and the scent of incense in the air. For a moment he was lost in the gaze of the Eye, taken to a time long ago when the tower served a noble purpose and the Watchmen who inhabited it were--like Dremlock's Divine Knights--sworn guardians of Silverland. But eventually Lannon was forced to return to the reality of a barren, cold chamber filled with echoes of the Deep Shadow. There were comfortable stone chairs on the second floor where Lannon could have rested, but he was compelled to approach the trapdoor that led to the tower basement. He stood over it for a while, surprised that the dark sorcery no longer tried to push him away. It actually welcomed him this time, urging him to go below. Six powerful shades--former Dark Watchmen--lurked beneath Lannon's feet, trapped forever in a struggle to hold the Deep Shadow at bay. Lannon had no sound reason for wanting to visit them--just curiosity--but he felt compelled to venture below. Logic told him he should simply rest and then depart for Kalamede, that his skills were not advanced enough for him to dare speak to the spirits. But Lannon's desire overruled his logic, and before he knew what he was doing, he seized the trapdoor and opened it. Lannon hesitated, wondering if he was a fool being led to his doom. Taris Warhawk had warned him of the danger, and that should have been enough for him. But it wasn't. Whispers came from the darkness below, urging him onward, and he had no plans to resist. The Eye of Divinity seemed to compel him to investigate, his sorcery drawing him into the depths with a pull that was both mental and physical in nature. The need was overwhelming. At last, Lannon walked down the stone steps until he stood before the thick,

iron-bound, oaken door with holes rotted into the wood. The ancient door smelled of mold, but there was no mold. In fact, there was no door. It didn't exist. It was an illusion designed to prevent anyone from entering the realm of Tharnin or (more importantly) making an exit from that realm. To get past the door, one would have to overcome six mighty shades that possessed the power of Dark Watchmen--meaning the door was almost certain doom for anyone who dared try to open it. The large, gleaming axe that hung above it was a warning of death to Lannon, and for an instant, he felt he should not have entered this chamber. Yet he stood there motionless for a long time, gazing at the door. At last, shadows began to writhe around on the oaken surface, as the shades revealed themselves. Eventually one of the shadows broke free and took a vague human form before Lannon. It was Baltheor Trueflame, one of the Dark Watchmen. The Eye revealed a mighty shade and the leader of the six, a warrior of unsured skill and intelligence who had designed the tower. Lannon stood in the presence of someone much more powerful than himself, yet someone who had failed to overcome the Deep Shadow in life. It was a depressing revelation. "I could kill you, Sunshield," the shade whispered. He was a flickering shadow-an empty dark cloak with only two yellow lights for eyes. "You know this to be true. Perhaps I should do just that, as you are a danger to both Dremlock Kingdom and Silverland--if the Deep Shadow claims you." "How can I prevent that?" asked Lannon. He sensed hesitation within the shade. Baltheor didn't want to kill him, but he would if he felt it was the right thing to do. It was up to Lannon to convince the spirit to spare him. "I don't know," said Baltheor. "The Dark Watchmen have a fatal flaw. Eventually the Deep Shadow becomes part of who we are. Once, we were simply known as the Watchmen--until Tharnin entered our hearts and minds. Now we are considered dark and sinister, and all the good we once did has been forgotten. But we deserve our place in history. We allowed it to happen. This is why I must decide whether or not to kill you, Sunshield, while you are still weak." Lannon suddenly ed Lothrin's words to Prince Vannas, and he spoke them aloud: "You're a man. Flesh and blood, and nothing more. Be a simple man who holds a great stone, not a great man who holds a great stone--or that stone will crush you with the weight of its burden."

The shade moved closer, intrigued. "The words of a Birlote. Yes, I sense something different within you, Sunshield. It's true that you could bring doom to Silverland or even Gallamerth--but you could also be the light of hope the Divine Essence was searching for and the one who can redeem the Dark Watchmen. This is a tough decision, but know this: should I choose to slay you, then you will us for eternity in defending this doorway." Several moments ed in silence, as Lannon readied the Eye for a fight. He thought it was a terrible mistake coming here, for the last thing he wanted was to spend eternity stuck in a door. But at last Baltheor spoke. "I have decided that you shall live. And with that decision, I must place my trust in you completely and hope for the best. So be it. You should feel welcome in this tower henceforth, and fear nothing. I give control of it to you, Master Sunshield. May it serve you well." Lannon bowed, unsure of what to say. He was flooded with relief that a fight had been avoided and the shade seemed to now be on his side. Taris Warhawk had been right--speaking with the spirits was indeed a dangerous venture. "This land needs hope," Baltheor went on, " and I won't be the one to destroy that hope. We have little time left for conversation, for I must return to my task. Before I depart, I will guide you with the Eye of Dreams. You will take a journey into the distant past and glimpse how your predecessors dealt with the Deep Shadow. I can only hope you will find the clues we overlooked." A heavy feeling washed over Lannon, and his eyelids slipped shut. The Eye of Dreams set his spirit free and allowed it to wander far into the past as a hidden observer who would know the story as it was revealed by the memory of Baltheor. *** Lannon's spirit was carried back to a warm spring day, where sunlight streamed in through the tower windows. Three Dark Watchmen sat at the table in the Dining Room eating blackberry pie and sipping mugs of milk. A Grey Keeper was present as well--a Ranger named Gronth Thernwist. The mood was pleasant in spite of the dark happenings of Silverland and conversation was lighthearted. They slouched in their stone chairs, enjoying a moment of peace and relaxation. The pie was excellent and the milk was cold. An Elder Hawk perched on a

window ledge, watching them intently--perhaps waiting for crumbs. Excitement flooded through Lannon. These were his predecessors, and at last he was being given a glimpse of how they had lived. This was only a memory, of course, of something that had occurred long ago. But to Lannon it was very real-a moment trapped in the flow of time for his benefit. This was more vivid than a typical experience with the Eye of Dreams, thanks to his connection to Baltheor's shade. He could smell fresh spring air coming through the open windows and feel warm sunlight on his skin--though he was still watching as a detached observer who could affect nothing around him. "My blade is chipped," said Londa Spiritwind, slapping her broadsword onto the table. "So much for the power of Glaetherin." Like the other two Watchmen, she wore a dark cloak of Birlote silk similar to the one Lannon wore. She had a cheerful, freckled face, striking green eyes, and reddish hair drawn back in a ponytail, and she looked a bit younger then her twenty years. She was stocky of build and had once been a simple, hardworking farmer's daughter before being recruited by Dremlock Kingdom. Lannon could sense the aggressive energy within her waiting to break free. She prided herself in her strength and used the Eye of Divinity much like Lannon often did--to enhance her physical might. Gronth frowned and studied the blade. "Chipped Glaetherin--that's something you don't see everyday. I suspect a flaw in the design." He was an old Ranger with grey hair, leathery skin, and a body covered in battle scars. He wore a faded green tunic, brown tros, and leather boots--simple garb for a stubbornly simple man. He was Londa's favorite Keeper, and she was his favorite Watchman. "But my blade is supposed to be flawless," said Londa. "How could Dremlock's blacksmiths make such a mistake? They're getting sloppy." Gronth shrugged his broad shoulders. "It happens, you know. Flaws can slip into any blade. But that sword is still a masterpiece." The Ranger was old, but Lannon sensed that he still possessed great skill. He was a Grey Keeper for a good reason: this man was a deadly warrior with a grand reputation. He was known as the Lord of Rangers and was greatly feared by his enemies. Londa pushed the sword toward Gronth, her green eyes twinkling. "Trade me, then. Your sword for mine. What say you, old man?"

Gronth raised his bushy eyebrows. "You want a beat up old Ranger sword in exchange for pure Glaetherin? I wouldn't do it. I'd be robbing you blind." She smiled. "Even with the chip?" "You might need that blade today," said Gronth. "You know that Adeus Blackshield will be visiting us, demanding his duel. In fact, he should be arriving shortly. Perhaps you will be the one to fight him. Yes, it probably will be you-just to make this old heart quiver with anxiety." "I don't need a sword to win a duel," she said, patting her arm. "I can fight barehanded just fine, old man. Or haven't you noticed? I wish to make the trade strictly for your benefit." Gronth nodded. "But a Watchman is always better off with a Glaetherin blade in hand--especially when dealing with someone like Adeus Blackshield. You can't win every battle by brute force. I appreciate your offer, but I must decline." She glared at him. "I'm a Watchwoman. Get it right!" Gronth smiled. "Watchchild is probably good enough for a mere lass like you. You're nearly young enough to be my great granddaughter." "And you're nearly old enough to sprout moss," she retorted, "and about as crusty as Malna's bread. Shouldn't you be resting in your grave by now?" "Perhaps," said Gronth, "but I'd like to hang around a bit longer to teach you a few things about life--before you learn the hard way." The two of them spent a lot of time engaged in such banter, teasing each other in ways others perceived as harsh or insulting. But Gronth thought of her like a daughter and was always watching out for her, in spite of her immense power. She slammed her elbow on the table, challenging him to arm wrestle. "Come on, you old dog, I'll make you show respect!" "I'd rather keep my arm attached," said Gronth, with a chuckle. "I still get some use out of it now and then." "Mere lass, huh?" Londa glowered at him. "We shall see about that. Consider the

duel today to be mine." "It should be mine, actually," said Baltheor, pushing his plate of pie crumbs away. Lannon's gaze strayed to the High Watchman, as he was called in his leadership role. This was Baltheor's memory, and Lannon felt it must be quite important to him. He was a lean and handsome fellow, with very dark skin and hair and a neatly trimmed black beard and mustache. Unlike Londa, he was all about the art of swordplay--a fighter who favored speed, skill, and cunning over brute strength. His rune-covered Glaetherin sword was everything to him, working in flawless harmony with the Eye of Divinity. Lannon realized he himself was a combination of the fighting styles of both Londa and Baltheor, and he wondered if he would be wise to pick a primary style and develop it to the fullest. The third Watchman, a short, bald man named Cordus Nightblade, shook his head. "We will roll the cube and let chance decide, as usual." "But you hate duels," said Baltheor. "Yes," said Cordus Nightblade, "but simply because I hate them doesn't mean I am excused from participating in them." Lannon found himself liking this fellow immediately--and not just because he shared his first name with Dremlock's Lord Knight (Cordus was a popular name in Silverland). This was a soft spoken, peace-minded warrior whom Lannon could instantly relate to. Cordus Nightblade specialized in a defensive style of combat, preferring to use his heavy broadsword to deflect attacks and, with the flat of it, deal less damaging blows to his opponents. He used the weapon as both shield and club. His fondness for sparing his enemies had run him into trouble more than once, but it was an unalterable part of who he was. Like Lannon, he was a warrior who preferred to kill only when absolutely necessary. However, Lannon wasn't particularly fond of this Watchman's defensive style, for it didn't seem aggressive enough to deal with foes like Tenneth Bard or the monstrous Wolf that was stalking him. To survive, Lannon felt he needed to wield deadly force. Baltheor shrugged, looking sullen. "I guess we roll the cube, then. I strongly regret that we ever agreed to this notion of letting chance decide our duels." He took a bone-white, numbered cube from his pocket, and the three Watchmen

chose their numbers. He flicked the cube over to Gronth. The Ranger lifted the cube and examined it carefully. He rubbed the sides with his thumb and weighed it in his hand, perhaps only for show. Then, nodding, he rolled it. He studied the results and sighed. "Londa." She raised her arms in triumph. "My lucky day." Baltheor frowned. "Nothing lucky about getting chosen for a duel. It was my exchange with Adeus that led to this, so I alone should bear the responsibility. Also, the agreement was that a Watchman--any Watchman--would face one of Adeus' warriors or himself if he chooses to fight. He wants me, and if I'm not participating, he will likely try to send one his monsters into battle. We could refuse that, of course, since Goblins are not capable of waging honorable duels." "Goblins don't worry me," said Londa, rolling her eyes. "How many did I kill since being recruited by Dremlock? I've lost count." "Yet Adeus' Goblins are very powerful," Baltheor said quietly, "even for a Watchman to deal with. Why not let me fight him? Not only will it be a fair fight, but it will put an end to his evil. If I win, that is." Londa hesitated, then shook her head. She gazed at him defiantly. "I won the cube toss, Baltheor. I will fight him." "Stubborn fool," he muttered. Londa shoved the tin of blackberry pie toward him. "Stuff that in your mouth and be quiet. You're not going to deprive me of my battle." So far Lannon hadn't seen anything remarkable. The Watchmen seemed like typical Divine Knights (except more powerful). He'd been expecting something else, though he wasn't sure what. Their reputation was so extraordinary he'd almost begun to think of them as inhuman--more like mysterious gods (or demons, considering how corrupt some of them had become). Instead, they seemed like simple warriors that he could easily relate to. This fact also gave him a sense of relief, for it meant he stood a chance of living up to their standards. But as their conversation continued, Lannon realized their simplicity was

deceptive. The Eye showed him a glimpse of the truth. These three Watchmen functioned on a level that few others could hope to reach. They reminded him of Taris Warhawk--calm and certain of their place in the world, always staying a few steps ahead of everyone around them. They had control of their lives to a degree that made Lannon envious, and he wondered how they could have ended up struggling so fiercely against the Deep Shadow's influence. But he could only tell so much from watching them in conversation, Eye of Divinity or not, and he needed to see them in combat. He hoped he would get a chance to witness the duel they had spoken of. And that chance soon came to , as a bellow reached Lannon's ears. Someone was shouting Baltheor's name from outside the tower--a gruff voice demanding the High Watchman respond. Baltheor rose and went to the window, gazing down. The other two Watchman followed suite. Lannon found himself also gazing out the window, looking right through the others as if they weren't there. Adeus Blackshield stood on the mossy ground below. Lannon instantly perceived that he was also a Dark Watchmen--one who had already fallen victim to the Deep Shadow. He was a tall, broad-shouldered man who wore a shining breastplate shaped into a snarling wolf's head. He held an evil-looking, gleaming axe in his hand--an axe Lannon recognized as the one that hung atop the illusionary door below the tower (which proved the axe itself was not part of the illusion, but a real and deadly weapon). Adeus' eyes were wild, his hair and beard long and black. He pointed up at them. "It is time, Baltheor. Come down and we will settle this." Adeus stood near the apple tree, which was covered in lush spring blossoms. He leaned on his battle axe, an impatient expression on his face. The leaves in the oak grove around the clearing were just beginning to sprout. It was such a warm and pleasant day, not at all fit for bloodshed. Baltheor sighed. "I won't be fighting you today." "Coward," Adeus replied. "So you will hide in your tower and let someone else fight your battles. I expected no less. It was you who slew my best Keeper and invaded my campsite. It was you who left me wounded, so that I wasn't sure I could fight this duel. Yet I have fully recovered, and there is no reason for others

to take our places. This is our conflict." "No," said Baltheor. "I must follow Tower Law." "Tower Law?" growled Adeus, looking disgusted. "A law you invented, which Dremlock does not endorse. You fancy yourself to be something greater than a Watchman--like a king gazing down from his castle. Dremlock wasn't good enough for you. This tower was constructed to suit your wretched ego." "Think what you wish," said Baltheor, "but we left Dremlock because of people like you--those corrupted by Tharnin. We lost trust in our kingdom. Now we stand alone and follow our own Sacred Laws." Adeus waved dismissively. "That tower will be your tomb." Lannon found this exchange fascinating. In spite of being corrupted by Tharnin, Adeus Blackshield seemed to represent Dremlock. Perhaps the High Council had failed to see that corruption, or perhaps they had failed to act on it for lack of evidence. It was Baltheor who was the outcast and rebel. "I'll fight you," Londa called down. "If, that is, you're not too afraid to accept the challenge." "If I must," said Adeus, scowling. Londa leapt out the window, her Birlote cloak billowing as she fell to the ground. It was a drop of about forty feet, but she landed softly, kneeling for a moment before bounding up. She strode over to Adeus, who towered over her. Adeus frowned. "On second thought, I take no pleasure in slaying a lesser Watchman. I wasted my time coming here." He turned his back to her. Londa laughed. "I expected no less. You are afraid." He turned, his face reddening in anger. "Good effort, but you won't snare me into a pointless battle that easily. I have another foe you can face. A beast. You may refuse, of course, in which case I will simply leave." Londa glanced about, but no one else was visible. "Summon your monster then. I came down here to fight." Her voice sounded cocky, but she looked uncertain

as she scanned the trees with the Eye in search of her foe. Adeus gave a piercing whistle, and a rumbling sound arose in response. A couple of trees shook and then a massive Cave Troll strode into the clearing. This was, by far, the largest Troll that Lannon had ever seen. It was over eleven feet tall, and its muscles bulged like boulders beneath its armored skin. It held a great battle mace gleaming with steel spikes. It looked invincible. Lannon thought surely Londa would change her mind about the duel. But she simply nodded. "Fine by me." Gronth groaned and glanced at Baltheor. "This would be a good time to overrule her. I'm an expert on Goblins, and I can tell you this is likely the most powerful Troll to walk this land in my lifetime. I've encountered dozens of Trolls--some nearly as tall as this one, but none so bulky. An army would probably be hard pressed to bring that one down." "He's a big fellow," Baltheor agreed, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "She won't be able to match it with brute strength. This really isn't a good fight for her. But there won't be any changing her mind about it." "Yes, she is wretchedly stubborn," said Gronth, "just like me." "Using a Troll to fight for you," said Londa. "That's a violation of the Sacred Laws. What if the High Council finds out?" "Those cowards would do nothing," said Adeus, sneering. Then he commanded the Troll to kill her. The Troll leapt forward and slammed the mace down. Londa easily dodged the blow, and the weapon split a mossy boulder in two. Londa hacked at its leg with her broadsword--a blow that would have cut through a small tree trunk with ease--but the weapon deflected off the armor-like skin. The Troll scooped up half of the split boulder in one hand and hurled it at her with blinding speed. Yet she caught the heavy rock and flung it back into the Troll's chest. The rock exploded on impact and the Troll staggered, its black eyes widening at witnessing such strength. The Troll swung at her again and again, scattering moss and rock. She dodged

each mace blow and continued to respond with her broadsword--striking at the beast's eyes. At one point she got around behind the Troll and leapt on its back, wrapping her arm around its neck. She squeezed with all her might, trying to crush its throat. The Troll stumbled and nearly went down. The Watchmen looked on silently from the window. They didn't cheer like Divine Knights would have during a duel. They were somber, disciplined warriors who were always focused and alert. Lannon felt like he belonged with the group. It was a strange feeling, considering he lived in a different age. Lannon was amazed at Londa's fighting style. She used strength to her advantage with every move. It made her unique. As the Troll sagged to one knee, Lannon was certain Londa was going to choke the beast to death. The thought of anyone dispatching a Troll that way--especially one as monstrous as this foe--was inconceivable, but Londa made it look easy. However, the Troll managed to fling her off its back, and it rose and turned, bellowing and swinging its mace. Londa seized the weapon and ripped it from its grasp, hurling it several yards away. But the creature was far from helpless. The Troll hammered at her with its fists--a flurry of blows that showed the beast's great speed. It rained blow after blow upon her. One of its fists connected, smashing into Londa's shoulder and driving her to the ground. She cried out in pain, then rolled aside as the Troll sought to stomp her with its gnarled feet. But now she was on the defensive and the Troll was moving in for the kill. Gronth winced and glanced at Baltheor. Lannon looked on in shock, wondering if this is where Londa Spiritwind had met her doom so long ago. It appeared that her fighting style had ultimately failed her--that strength alone wasn't enough. The Troll wasn't going to let her rise from the ground. The Troll pinned her under one huge foot, and it pressed down viciously against her chest, growling with rage. Londa's face was crimson with strain and agony, with only the Eye of Divinity keeping her from being crushed instantly. Lannon considered looking away, before he witnessed her meet a brutal end. Why had Baltheor's shade wanted him to see this? But Londa managed to shove the foot off her chest, and she yanked the Troll's legs out from under it. It fell onto its back, and she leapt up, sword in hand. This was where Lannon noticed a distinct change come over her. Rather than try

another move based on brute force, she seemed to relax her mind and body, focusing her energy into her blade. The broadsword flashed in the sunlight and then drove down through the Troll's eye--a perfect strike. Not only was the move flawless in its accuracy, but it was delivered so swiftly the Troll never had a chance to react. The Troll shuddered violently, clawed at the sword, and then relaxed in death. Londa wiped her blade on the beast's loincloth and sheathed it. She stood gasping for breath, holding her ribs and glaring at Adeus, whose face bore a frown. "Take your filthy beast with you. I don't want it stinking up the tower grounds." "It is too heavy," Adeus muttered. "I will send men to claim it. I should never have come here. This duel was pointless." "I disagree," said Londa, gazing at her palms with a surprised expression. "I just learned a valuable lesson. It saved my life." Scowling, Adeus Blackshield made his departure. *** Lannon's spirit was pulled back through time to the present, and he was disappointed. He'd wanted to learn more about the feud with Adeus Blackshield and to see some of the other Watchmen in action. Instead, he flew like the wind over hills and treetops, through valleys, and across fields and farms--as lightning flashed harmlessly around him and raindrops ed right through him. He flew until he saw ten riders on horseback. He recognized them as Dark Knights from below Dremlock, but he didn't know what their business was or why they were being revealed to him. The Eye locked onto them, and Lannon could sense that he might be able to meet up with them. It wasn't a sure bet, but there was a chance of it if a bit of luck was on his side. Then he was slipping away again, flying over the landscape so swiftly that everything became a blur. He next found himself hovering above a sprawling kingdom, at the center of which was an enormous golden dome with towers protruding from it like spikes. He recognized it as the Kingdom of Bellis. People dressed in fancy clothing wandered the paved streets outside the dome. The kingdom was bustling with activity, as horse-drawn carriages and wagons ed

by the many shops, inns, and houses. Heavily armored Knights also rode through the streets, some of them bearing the royal banner. Everywhere Lannon looked there were bright colors, magnificent statues and monuments, lush hanging plants, and money changing hands. Lannon could sense that Bellis had once been a noble kingdom--a shining example to all of Gallamerth--and it still retained that appearance. But inside the dome lurked madness, and that is where Lannon knew he must venture. Lannon was drawn into the dome, back into the throne room in the huge hall adorned with marble pillars. Sunlight streamed in through stained glass windows, shining upon statues of Knights and those of sacred spirit creatures-the protectors of Bellis Kingdom. A crimson carpet ran up to the royal throne, where King Verlamer sat drinking from a large goblet. His golden Dragon lay on the floor at his feet, apparently asleep. Assembled before the king was a group of elite Knights--including Staldor Darvus, the Lord Knight of Bellis. King Verlamer drank deeply from his goblet, then wiped his mouth on his sleeve. "The best Norack wine in existence. I cannot stomach the Birlote swill anymore, ever since the Tree Dwellers have turned against us." "My lord," said Staldor, "with Taris' battalion delayed in Hethos, I am wondering how long we must delay our own journey." Lannon tensed up, realizing the Eye of Dreams was revealing something hugely significant. The dread in his heart told him it was war. "It doesn't matter," said the mad king. "As soon as Taris Warhawk's battalion reaches Kalamede, we will begin the march to Dremlock. Now that spring has arrived, we should have no trouble getting some of our finest siege engines through the mountains and forests. We will crush their wall." Staldor bowed. "Of course. My concern is that our plans will somehow become known to the enemy. I know I continue to pester you, my lord, and it is not my goal to be annoying. But everything depends on surprise, and if we lose that advantage, the war could be long and bloody." King Verlamer glowered down at Staldor. He was a towering figure with broad shoulders. He looked somewhat like Cordus Landsaver, with his long, unkempt hair and beard. But there was a light of insanity in his eyes that made his appearance distinctly different from that of Dremlock's Lord Knight. His hair

and beard were unkempt because he'd lost interest in matters of appearance. His crimson robe with white trim was stained with wine and sauces, and it hung open, revealing an equally stained green tunic. His fingernails were black with dirt. To the people outside Bellis, he was considered a man--but to those within the golden walls he'd become a holy figure who devoutly served the will of his god. They viewed his disheveled appearance as a sign that his faith was more important to him than anything else--even bathing or grooming. "Tell me this is the right decision," said King Verlamer, reaching down to stroke the Dragon's scaly head. "Tell me I'm not a fool." The Dragon perked up at its master's touch, long claws stretching forth. Verlamer whispered soothingly to it, and the beast cocked its head to one side and let out a quiet, contented squawk. "Dremlock's spies are dead," Staldor reminded him. "We're certain of it. The Divine Knights will learn of our advance too late. The White Flamestone will not reach Dremlock in time to fortify the kingdom--even if it escapes the ambush we have planned in Kalamede. Their Elder Hawks will be hunted by our Blood Eagles or shot from the sky by our archers." "Then I am wise," said the king, touching his forehead. "So very wise. We weeded out their nasty spies, thanks to the power of our god." Staldor knelt and bowed his head. "May we serve him well. But again, I'm sorry to keep bringing this to your attention, but I wonder if there is anything else we can do to secure this kingdom. We've sealed off all possible exits. We hunt for spies endlessly on land and in the skies. Yet why do I feel like we're somehow...being watched. I keep dreaming that an invisible eye is peering at us and an invisible ear hears our words. Perhaps I am just being foolish." "Take heart," said King Verlamer. "Our plans will not be known to Dremlock. Our god has given me his promise." Staldor rose and bowed again, but looked uncertain. "Then all is well. I shall cease my worrying and trouble you with it no more." ", our god will travel with us to Dremlock," said the king. "He will fight by our side, and we will know we cannot be defeated."

Staldor nodded. "Dremlock's cowardly god, which hides below earth and stone, will do little to assist its own Knights. Yet our god marches with us straight into battle. It makes me very proud to be part of this kingdom." "It fills my heart with joy!" said Verlamer, laughing and pounding his huge fist on the arm of the throne. "We have prevailed before the battle begins. Even the White Flamestone cannot threaten us as long as it rests in the hands of a mortal." The Knights spoke in agreement. "Tonight we feast," said Verlamer, "in honor of our god and to celebrate the coming fall of a pagan kingdom. Storm clouds are headed our way, soon to block out the glorious sun and likely bring rain. Thus, we shall feast within this hall, and what a merry gathering it will be!" Lannon groaned, stunned by what he'd witnessed. If all of Dremlock's spies at Bellis were truly dead, then only Lannon knew the truth of the impending attack. Unless he could reach Kalamede in time to warn Taris, Bellis would get a significant head start on the road to Dremlock. Lannon had no clue how King Verlamer had weeded out the spies to the point of being certain none were left alive, but it seemed Bellis was blessed by the power of its own god. Also, Lannon now knew that Taris and his warriors were headed into some kind of ambush at Kalamede instead of simply a mission to cleanse the city of an evil cult. Lannon was frantic with the desire to warn Taris, and he found himself drawn back into his body instantly--as if the vast distance he'd traveled to reach Bellis held no significance. When Lannon returned to consciousness, he was standing outside the tower in the storm, gazing up at the darkened sky and pounding raindrops. He had no idea how he'd gotten there, and for an instant, he wondered if his encounter with Baltheor's shade had even been real. Lately, it was difficult for him to distinguish between reality and illusion. The memories were so vivid, however, he realized it had indeed been real, but what was the lesson? He felt it had something to do with combat, some realization from Londa's fight with the Troll that had made a big impact on Baltheor. But he didn't feel like standing about in the rain and pondering it--not with the more pressing issues on his mind. Somehow, he had to move faster than he'd ever moved before if he was to reach Taris in time. He

could worry about lessons later. No lightning threatened him, and so Lannon set off in a direction he thought would lead him to Kalamede--though he wasn't entirely sure.

Chapter 11: Wagon South

For the next two days Lannon raced across Silverland like a galloping horse, moving as fast as his power would allow for long-distance travel and only stopping for brief rests or to search for food. He met a few travelers coming his way, but he dashed right past them without slowing--amused at how odd he must appear charging along at such a speed. He undoubtedly looked like a champion runner training for some important race and not a Divine Knight of Dremlock. But he didn't care. All that mattered to him was warning Taris of King Verlamer's plans. The Eye helped him secure his meals by guiding him to abundant plant life and clean water. Having no bow, he settled for fish from the rivers as his source of meat, seizing them with the Eye and pulling them onto land. He wanted to roast the fish over a fire, but he lacked matches and everything was soaked from the rain; so he cut strips off the fish and simply ate them raw--wrapped in plants so he wouldn't taste them. It didn't make for exciting meals, but it kept him going. As the days ed and the stormy weather continued, Lannon became increasingly annoyed by his lack of ability to generate fire. He tried several times to channel heat into his sword, but the bony blade remained cold to the touch. He constructed shelters to sleep in at night and hung his clothes up to dry, but he remained cold, wet, and miserable. He was in too much of a hurry to make himself comfortable. His Knightly abilities did protect him from disease and infection, however, and his wounds healed quickly. On the third day of travel, Lannon was growing exhausted from trying to maintain such a frantic dash. The Eye was wearing down, slowing his progress. He'd burned up too much energy in his haste, and he realized he should have paced himself. At last he caught up with a fancy-looking carriage pulled by a pair of white horses. It was traveling in the same direction as Lannon. Guiding the horses was a lean, well-dressed man with long brown hair--a man about ten years older than Lannon. He wore a blue, feathered hat and a fur cloak. His face was cut and bruised, with dry blood crusted to his forehead, and he seemed to be leaning

forward in the saddle--perhaps in great pain. A crossbow lay next to him, which his hand settled upon when he saw Lannon. He nodded in greeting. "And where are you headed, traveler?" he asked. "I saw you back there, running like the wind. You are quite fleet of foot." "Kalamede," Lannon replied, pausing to catch his breath. The carriage looked very inviting, considering it was still raining. "I'm on my way to Rogue Haven," said the man. "Same direction you're going. My name is Dalton. I own a shop there. My daughter and I were off visiting relatives near the Grey Lake." "If you don't mind me asking," said Lannon, "what happened to you? You appear to have taken quite a beating." Dalton nodded, wincing. "Yes, thanks to the bandits along this road. They beat me after I failed to give them money. They tried to take my daughter, but a Ranger happened along and drove them off. You look like a Ranger yourself--or at least like a man who can fight. You've certainly got the foot speed of a Ranger. You don't look like someone who might rob me." "I'm not a thief," said Lannon. He considered telling the man who he was, then decided against it. His training as a Blue Knight had taught him to reveal things only if necessary--that secrecy could be a powerful tool. And there were enemies of Dremlock all over Silverland. "Mercenary?" Dalton asked, glancing at Lannon's sword. "The reason I ask is that I could use a guard on this journey, for my daughter's sake. "Do you know how to use that blade, or is it just for scaring purposes?" "I can use it well enough," said Lannon. "I would be happy to ride with you to Rogue Haven, then continue on south to Kalamede. I'm in a hurry, though, so if you're planning on making a lot of stops..." "Not at all," said Dalton. "We're in a hurry ourselves. You can sit in the carriage and guard my daughter. I'm sure she'd welcome the company of a polite young man like yourself. I'm certain you'll mind your manners back there." He patted the crossbow. "I've killed a man before, and I'll do it again if need be to protect my daughter. Understand? I'll pay you when we reach Rogue Haven."

"I understand," said Lannon, giving a slight bow. "And I don't require any payment. A ride in your carriage is payment enough." Dalton nodded. "I thank you, then." His eyes narrowed. "I sense you don't want me to ask your business, and so I won't. Just speculating here... You don't look like a Legion Soldier or a Divine Knight. And I've never seen a Ranger without a bow. With that fancy sword and cloak, I'm guessing you're someone of importance." Lannon said nothing, thinking that Dalton had a keen eye and sharp instincts. He simply waited for the shopkeeper to finish scrutinizing him. "One thing you should know," said Dalton, "is that this road is very dangerous lately, due to a shortage of Rangers. Bandits attack in large numbers and attack fearlessly. I didn't realize how bad it was getting, and my daughter almost paid a grim price." His eyes smoldered. "They were dragging her off to a horrible fate when that Ranger rode them down. Anyway, to make my point--I'm guessing you can fight, but if you ride in my shiny carriage you'll be making yourself a more visible target. Many of the bandits simply want quick and easy money, and if they don't get it, they'll move on. So don't do anything foolish that will get us all killed. We talk first, and fight only if we have to. Is that clear, young man?" "That wont be a problem," said Lannon, feeling sympathy for Dalton and his daughter and anger toward the bandits. "I'm sorry to hear what happened. Is your daughter okay?" "She's doing fine," Dalton replied. "I took most of the damage. Now get in back there and help yourself to some food and drink." He gave Lannon a menacing stare. "And keep your hands to yourself, if you get my meaning." Lannon climbed into the carriage and sat down across from a plump black-haired girl about his own age. She was a pretty girl with large, dark eyes and pale skin. She was bundled up in a fur cloak, and a book lay in her lap. She smiled. "My name is Dallsa." "Lannon," he said, briefly returning her smile. "I always liked that name," she said. "I have a cousin named Lannon who spends every day hunting. It's all he thinks about. Nevertheless, it's not a very common

name amongst Noracks. It's actually of Birlote origin. Have you ever heard the poem Lannon of the Golden Leaf?" He shook his head, not in the mood for talking. He wanted to simply relax, enjoy the ride, and let his energy build up. He had a Birlote name and a Birlote cloak, but he wasn't a Birlote by any measure--so what did it matter? His father had always been fond of the Tree Dwellers, so it wasn't a surprise to Lannon that his name was of Birlote origin. Lannon's father was strange--seemingly so simple on the surface, as he drank ale and complained about his life all day long, yet filled with much deeper concerns underneath. Lannon realized he didn't actually know his real father very well, as the old man's dark disease had consumed his personality. "You're all wet," Dallsa said. "That must be quite unpleasant. You're about my father's size, and he has extra clothes back here. We could stop the carriage and allow you a moment to put on something dry." "It's not necessary," said Lannon, not wanting any delays. He'd been cold and wet for so long he was getting used to it. But Dallsa called to her father, who agreed that Lannon could borrow a pair of tros and a tunic. Lannon found the clothes to be a bit long, as he had to roll up the sleeves and pant legs a few inches, but they were warm and comfortable. He hung his wet clothes to dry and put his Birlote cloak back on. "Doesn't that feel better?" asked Dallsa. A curious expression appeared on her face, and she touched his cloak. "It doesn't get wet," Lannon explained. "It must be Birlote silk," she said. "Although it's probably quite obvious to you, I have a fascination with the Tree Dwellers. I've always wanted to see Borenthia, but it's such a long journey and common Noracks like myself aren't always welcome there. The Birlotes do their trading outside the city, unfortunately, so even if I went there for business I wouldn't be allowed in." Lannon too had always wanted to visit Borenthia. As a Divine Knight of some importance, he--unlike Dallsa--would probably be itted into the Tree City. It didn't seem fair, for he could tell by the shine in her eyes that she cared much more about Birlote culture than he did.

Dallsa sat back and gazed through a glass window, her face becoming somber. "My father thinks we're headed for more trouble. We've run into bandits three times on this journey. The first two times they simply took our money and goods and were content. But the third time, we had no money to give and they grew angry. They demanded me as payment. They would have made me a slave. They beat my father so severely I thought he was going to die." "That's a terrible story," said Lannon. He wondered how some people could be so heartless toward others. And he wondered why there were less Rangers on the roads these days. Perhaps the pay wasn't worth it to them anymore. With the Divine Knights involved in a desperate war, the Rangers had been severely neglected. Many had simply quit in search of an easier way of life. "Yes, and it could easily happen again," she said. "You're taking quite a risk by riding with us, Lannon. I know my father is just trying to protect me, but you were probably better off on foot. The bandits look for suitable targets like this carriage. They probably wouldn't waste their time on a lone man walking the road, for that doesn't speak of money to them." He shrugged. "I'm fine with the risk." He didn't bother to explain that bandits were the least of his concerns--that he was actually engaged in a struggle for the fate of Silverland and perhaps all of Gallamerth. That would have required him to do a lot of talking, which he wanted no part of. "I see you wear a sword," said Dallsa. "May I have a closer look?" Lannon hesitated, never fond of parting with his Dragon sword. But he felt the need to be polite, considering the circumstances. He drew it and handed it to her. "Be careful. It's very sharp." Dallsa's eyes lit up as she studied it. "Amazing! What kind of bone is this? I've never seen anything like it. It's beautiful. This looks exactly like the Kingdom Sword of Dremlock. Of course, the Kingdom Sword is a fake and couldn't be used as an effective weapon. This blade is obviously of high quality." "It's made of Goblin bone," said Lannon. "Actually, the bones of a Dragon. And yes, it was designed to look like the Kingdom Sword." Her eyes widened. "Someone slew a Dragon? Truthfully, I didn't believe they existed until I heard about the trouble at Dorok's Hand with Dremlock's Knights.

Was that sword made from the bones of the Dragon at Dorok's Hand?" "No, it was just a small Dragon," said Lannon, "kind of like a Vulture. Nothing like the beast at Dorok's Hand. And as far as I know, it was already dead when the bones were discovered--somewhere up in some cliffs in the Bloodlands. There are more of these bone swords, and they're all quite expensive." "It's a wonderful sword," said Dallsa, "no doubt worth a fortune. But can you use it? You look too young to be a hardened mercenary." Lannon sheathed it. "I know a few tricks with the blade." "I fear you may lose that sword," she said. "If the bandits take notice of it, consider it gone. That would be a big find for them." Lannon shook his head. "I won't give up my sword." "You will," said Dallsa, "if your life is at stake. Look at what happened to my father, for refusing to give up his horses and carriage." "How is he doing?" asked Lannon. "He looks to be in great pain." "I believe he has some cracked ribs," she replied, "and a few minor wounds. He is in a lot of pain. I cleaned his wounds, though, and I think he'll be fine. Actually, my father says I have a healer's touch. He thinks I could be recruited by Dremlock as a White Squire. But I've been afraid to give it a try, for some reason. And ittance Day never comes to Rogue Haven. It's just a small town that once was used as a hideout for thieves. The Divine Knights ignore it." "You should visit one of the larger cities," said Lannon, "on ittance Day. If you have a healer's skills, you should learn to use them." Dallsa looked away. "That's what my father says. But I don't know if that's the life for me. I might just want to get married and raise children. I would love to visit Dremlock--especially the tower libraries and the Sacred Temple. There is so much knowledge to be found there. I could spend weeks just seeing the historical sights and reading the books. But to live there year round and help the sick and wounded? I don't know if I have it in me, Lannon." Lannon nodded. He couldn't fault her for wanting a simple life. He fell silent,

hunkered down beneath his cloak and wanting to doze. Dallsa seemed to sense his mood, for she lifted her book to read. He glanced at the book's title. It read: The Watchman's Dream. He couldn't help but smile, wondering what Dallsa would think if she knew she was sitting across from a Dark Watchman. He was glad she didn't know, because that would have opened the door to hours of conversation, and all Lannon wanted to do was sink into a pleasant slumber. *** During the journey to Rogue Haven, they encountered bandits three times. In the first two incidents, riders on horseback with cloth masks surrounded them and demanded payment. After searching the carriage and finding no money or expensive goods, they rode off. Fortunately, they hadn't bothered to search Lannon (who had concealed his sword beneath his cloak) or there would have been a fight. These bandits knew their business and seemed to be looking for something very specific, and when they failed to find it, they hurried off. The third group of rogues, however, was more thorough. These riders wore no masks, and their cruel-looking, scarred faces revealed a hardened bunch of cutthroats who would take anything they could find. They first demanded money, and when none was given, they insisted on taking the shopkeeper's horses and carriage (a demand which included anything in the carriage). One of them peered through the glass window at Dallsa, an ugly leer on his face. She drew the blinds and then sat close to Lannon, a frightened look in her eyes. "Now we're in trouble," she whispered. "How I regret coming on this trip! We knew there might be dangers, but nothing this extreme." Her body trembled. "Don't let them take me, Lannon. I would rather be dead." "Relax," he mumbled, hoping the bandits would simply go away as the others had. Yet he knew it was unlikely. These bandits were different. They seemed more like cold-hearted killers--like the group that had beaten Dallsa's father and tried to drag the girl off with them. As the robbers dismounted from their horses and closed in on the carriage, Dalton raised his crossbow in shaking hands. He fired at a bandit and missed. They dragged him from his horse and shoved him facedown in the mud. One of them bound his hands with ropes and then kicked him in the ribs.

"Come out, come out, my young friends!" a bandit cried, as the others laughed. "You belong to us now, since you're in our carriage." The bandit banged on the door with his rusty sword hilt. "Don't keep us waiting!" "Wait here," said Lannon, to Dallsa. She clung to him for a moment in terror and then let go. He opened the carriage door and stepped out into the road. The rain was only a sprinkle now, blown about by a pleasant breeze that ruffled Lannon's cloak. He gazed out from beneath his hood, the Eye of Divinity surging through him. At the moment, Dalton appeared unharmed, and Lannon planned to follow the shopkeeper's advice and try to use reason before resorting to violence. "Why don't you simply let us go?" Lannon asked. "We don't have any money. There is no need for bloodshed." The bandits exchanged glances of disbelief. "Bloodshed?" one of them replied. "You're speaking of your own blood, right?" "No," Lannon said in a grim tone. "I mean yours." A year ago, he might have been terrified to face a group of armed cutthroats. But he'd been through so many battles and had grown so confident in his abilities that these rogues simply struck no fear in his heart at all. They didn't seem like worthy opponents. The bandits hesitated, glancing at Lannon's sheathed sword. Then they burst into laughter, slapping each other on the back. They charged him with full intent to murder him, their blades raised for the killing blows. Lannon drew his Dragon sword and cut down the first rogue to reach him with a stroke so swift his foe never caught a glimpse of it. He seized another one by the arm and flung him against a nearby oak tree. In an instant, two men were down and not moving. The others backed away, eyes wide. Lannon stood like a stature, sword in hand, waiting for them to make a move. It was their choice--how they wanted their lives to proceed. They could choose to avoid a fight and instead flee, or they could choose to perhaps die in the mud for their evil. It wasn't up to Lannon to make that choice for them. He wasn't fond of killing at all, but he was a trained and experienced Blue Knight. He was prepared to do what needed to be done. Two of them chose to flee, while two others charged him. Lannon chopped a rusty sword in two and then struck the man's forehead with his sword hilt,

knocking him unconscious. He ducked a clumsy swing and drove his blade through the rogue's shoulder, then kicked him into the mud. That left three undecided bandits with shocked faces. "Gather the fallen and flee," said Lannon. They hesitated, then did as he commanded--placing the fallen men across their saddles. They kept glancing at Lannon with stunned looks. Lannon hated to leave the rogues behind to perhaps terrorize other travelers, but short of executing the thieves without a fair trial (which was a violation of the Sacred Laws and not something Lannon would do regardless), he didn't have time to deal with them. They had been struck a stout blow and would probably be out of action for a while. That would give Lannon time to discuss the issue with Taris and see if some Knights or hired Rangers could return to weed out the bandits along that route. It was an issue that would require time, discussion, and resources to resolve. But right now the threat of Bellis was much more serious, and Lannon needed to move on. He helped Dalton up from the mud, and the shopkeeper shook his head in amazement. "Lad, I knew you were something special." He patted Lannon on the back. "I only wish you had finished them off." "Maybe they'll change their ways," said Lannon. As a Divine Knight, he was required to show mercy whenever possible and kill for defensive purposes. But on the other hand, letting hardened criminals go because he didn't have the time or resources to arrest them was not something that seemed wise in the least. Lannon was troubled by the issue, wishing there was an easy answer. Dalton nodded. "I see. You're too young to understand. Men like those won't change. They'll just keeping robbing and tormenting folks until they're dead or in a dungeon. I've seen it all before. The bandits need to be cleaned out by force." "This road definitely needs attention," Lannon agreed. Dalton gazed at him thoughtfully. "And I'll bet you can make it happen. You've got the ear of someone important. Am I right?" Lannon shrugged. "I'll do my best. There are a lot of areas of Silverland that

need attention, including Kalamede." "Yes," said Dalton, "I've heard of the trouble there, with those cultists. I'm guessing that's why you're headed there." Lannon said nothing. He helped Dalton into the driver's seat and then returned to the carriage. As he stepped inside, Dallsa threw her arms around him. She grinned with delight. "You must be a Divine Knight," she said, looking him up and down. "Only a warrior of Dremlock could fight like that. What's your color class, Lannon?" "Blue," he said, seating himself. Her grin vanished. "I see. Doesn't that make you an...?" Lannon sighed. "I'm not an assassin, Dallsa." "I meant no disrespect," she said. "That's just something I've read about Blue Knights." "There is truth in it," Lannon itted. "But not for me." "Will you mention me to the Knights?" she asked. "That way, they can come to Rogue Haven and test me." She chuckled, though she still trembling from the incident with the bandits. "I'm only kidding, Lannon." "Dremlock needs healers," said Lannon. "If you truly have the gift, I would be glad to help you become a Squire." She seemed to stiffen a bit. "Don't concern yourself with it. My father needs me to help run the shop. It's just a silly dream." *** In the days following the battle with the Blood Legion, the camp of Dremlock was a miserable place. The wretched spring weather continued, with rain hammering the tents and occasional lightning. There were dozens of wounded Divine Knights and Legion warriors suffering great pain. Some of them died over those three days from blood loss or infection, in spite of the healers' best

efforts. Others had missing limbs that could not be found or reattached, and some had such severe injuries they had to have limbs removed. It was an ugly scene. The groans and cries of pain went on day and night, as the White Knights worked without sleeping. Jerret recovered quickly from his stomach wound, in spite of refusing to rest. At last the wounded were either on the path to recovery or had died, and Taris decided it was time to either resume (or abandon) the journey. The battalion had taken another significant blow, and Taris was concerned about their diminished numbers. They discussed the issue in a meeting and decided--after much debate-that they had enough warriors and resources to continue the mission to Kalamede. Many of the Blood Legion prisoners had died from wounds, and most of those who had survived were allowed to go free after swearing an oath of peace. The battalion simply didn't have the resources to deal with them. The Blood Legion itself was now very weak and disorganized and these defeated warriors were not perceived as a great threat. The crowd of weary Legion fighters was simply left standing in the grass as the Divine Knights rode onward. Prince Vannas was being kept in a healer's tent, suffering from unseen wounds. The poison arrow was not a factor--as no trace of damage from it could be found. Somehow, the White Flamestone had healed him. However, Vannas was suffering from some kind of mental or spiritual anguish that left him unable or unwilling to do much besides lay around with an unhappy expression on his face. He barely ate or drank anything, and his sleep was filled with nightmares that were so vivid they sent him into panic attacks and he had to be awakened. He refused to allow any of his friends to visit him. Lothrin still had possession of the White Flamestone, and no one questioned it. Because the Ranger had the ability to wield the stone to a relatively small degree, he was allowed to carry it while the prince was recovering. The recent quarreling between Vannas and Lothrin had either been forgotten by Taris or was being ignored. Aldreya wasn't fond of the idea of Lothrin carrying the stone, for she knew it might enrage Vannas; and with the prince's mental state already questionable, a bad turn of events could result. Yet it was not Aldreya's duty to question Lothrin's status as a wielder of the Flamestone. That was Taris' decision.

It was early morning--just after the meeting in which it was decided they would move on to Kalamede--when Aldreya and Lothrin entered Vannas' tent, insisting they be allowed to visit him. Aldreya made it clear they weren't accepting no as an answer. The healer reluctantly agreed and stepped out to give them some privacy, but he warned them that if the prince became too upset they would have to leave. He told them he would be standing just outside the tent if they needed him. Pulling his white hood over his head, he gave them a final stern glance and made his exit. Aldreya and Lothrin were left alone with the prince. Vannas lay with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. His face looked tense and weary. Aldreya gently squeezed his shoulder, and his eyes fluttered open. "Greetings," she said, smiling. "How are you feeling?" Vannas groaned. "Horrible. I don't wish to be disturbed." "We have the White Flamestone," said Aldreya, feeling anxious as she spoke. "Would you like it returned to you?" She wasn't sure if Taris wanted the prince to have possession of it at the moment, but she was eager to avoid a conflict. She realized she might have overstepped her authority by asking that question, and she instantly regretted it. Vannas' eyes widened, and a shadow of fear darkened his face. "No...I want you to keep it for now. Don't even show it to me." Aldreya was surprised. She'd expected Vannas to demand its immediate return. He seemed genuinely afraid of it, his expression quite unsettling. "Very well. We will guard it with our lives until you're feeling better." "Actually, I have it," said Lothrin, gazing with concern at his cousin. "However, I have no plans to keep it. Whenever you want it, just let me know." Vannas sighed. "I would rather Aldreya hold onto it. Regardless, I'm not sure I want it anymore. It calls to me endlessly, yet...I dread the thought of holding it again. Every time I use it, I seem to lose myself further to its power. It is maddening. Dremlock did nothing to prepare me for this, and I feel I have been mistreated--that they kept the truth from me so I would boldly go forth into battle." Aldreya looked away, knowing it was true and feeling ashamed. Dremlock had shoved the prince into combat, knowing the Flamestone might consume him.

Vannas was expected to serve Dremlock even at the cost of his own sanity--the ultimate sacrifice for his kingdom. "Yes," said Lothrin, "it's all clear to me now. They did indeed hide the truth from you, because they felt it was necessary for Dremlock's survival. But now there is a backlash, as the power has begun to devour you. This must be why Olzet Ka placed the Crimson Flamestone on a bed of straw so long ago, securing it with sorcery so that no one could remove it. It must have sought to consume even the great king himself. These Flamestones are clearly not meant for mortal hands. They belong to the White Guardian alone." "My glorious dream has become a nightmare," said Vannas. "I became a demon on the battlefield, killing anything that got in my way--including our own Knights. I don't deserve to possess the Flamestone. Yet even as I say that, I am compelled to take it back and cradle it in my arms. It is inevitable that I will demand it be returned to me. Even now, Lothrin, I feel terrible jealously that you have possession of it. I want to kill you and take it back. How shameful is that?" Lothrin bowed his head. "You don't want to kill me. You are being forced to feel that way. You've gotten a taste of divine power and it has changed you in some ways. Yet underneath you're still the noble prince I've always respected. I fear the Flamestone is going to destroy you, my cousin. The dread is always with me. If you can find the strength, I ask that you it onto me." Vannas' face reddened with anger. "Indeed. I'm not surprised you have asked me that. But wouldn't the Flamestone consume you as well? What makes you think you're fit to wield it?" "Because I cannot draw great power from it," said Lothrin. "Thus, I am less likely to be consumed. My weaker ability to connect with the stone actually could protect me from it, cousin." "Yet the stone would be too weak in your hands," said Vannas. "How could you hope to defeat all the mighty foes that threaten us? Taris still expects me to wield it. He won't accept anything less." "Actually," said Lothrin, "I have spoken to Taris and told him of my concerns. We had a long talk, and he has agreed that I should possess the Flamestone for now. He too fears what you are becoming."

Vannas sat up, seething with rage. "So you have turned against me completely. I knew I couldn't trust you. You won't get away with this!" "Calm yourself," said Lothrin. "Taris simply believes you need some time away from the stone. It's not necessarily permanent." Vannas' rage became a groan of disgust. "I see how it is. Taris is punishing me because I killed some of our Knights. Tell me it isn't true." "It's not a punishment," said Aldreya. "He knows you made a mistake, and he forgives you for that. This is about your protection--and the protection of everyone around you. You may be asked to wield the Flamestone only if absolutely necessary from now on. Try to respect Taris' wisdom in this matter. Unlike some of the other Knights, he actually cares about your well being." "I've heard enough!" Vannas shouted, his body trembling and his face turning crimson. "After all I've done for Dremlock, I am treated like dirt. Get out of my tent--both of you! And trouble me no more!" The healer leaned into the tent, motioning to them. "You must leave." "We'll visit you again," said Lothrin. "Maybe I'll visit you first," said the prince, "with dagger in hand. I'll get my Flamestone back one way or another." Looking deeply saddened, Lothrin left the tent.

Chapter 12: Rogue Haven

The remainder of the journey to Rogue Haven went smoothly. The weather stayed cloudy, but no rain troubled them. They didn't encounter any other bandits, as the presence of Rangers along the road increased as they moved farther south. When they camped, Lannon stayed awake and on guard while the shopkeeper and his daughter slept. Then when they resumed travel, it was Lannon's turn to doze--which he did sitting up in the carriage. Dallsa remained very talkative, asking Lannon many questions about Dremlock and what it was like to be a Divine Knight. Lannon answered them carefully, making no mention of the Eye of Divinity. She grew increasingly interested in trying her luck as a Squire--revealing a deep ion for the goal of Knighthood that lay beneath her fear of leaving her father's side. Lannon reassured her repeatedly that he would try to send someone to test her, but she expressed doubts that anyone would actually come. She believed Lannon was just being kind to her, in spite of him insisting he meant what he said. Having no way to convince her, he finally took to avoiding the issue whenever she brought it up. Regardless, the two became friends during the days of travel and Lannon found himself enjoying her company. Rogue Haven was remote and rugged, with pine and oak forestlands, log cabins where hunters and trappers dwelt, and a few small businesses--such as Dalton's shop. Some of the businesses, including the shop, were located along a dirt road that acted as the town's center. The shop was called Dallsa's Goods and displayed a painting of Dallsa in a blue dress (depicting her when she was five years old) sitting on a barrel and smiling, in the front window. It was a large logand-stone building flanked by a few towering pines. Inside were all manner of goods, ranging from animal furs to jerky and other food items to hunting and fishing gear--with many of the items hanging from nails on the walls. There were also barrels of wine and ale, along with tables and chairs positioned near a fireplace so visitors could relax and enjoy food, drink, and maybe a bit of gambling. It was a pleasant shop run by pleasant people, and Lannon liked the relaxed atmosphere. Father and daughter dwelt in the back of the store, and Lannon was led to a

comfortable couch in the living room. He took off his boots and rested his feet on a soft bearskin rug, as he chatted with Dallsa while her father cooked dinner. He wanted to simply rest and enjoy a good meal, but his concern over Bellis' plans ran too deep for that to happen. He remained anxious and wanting to move on to Kalamede immediately. It wasn't a great surprise to Lannon that Bellis was planning an attack. However, the revelation that Bellis had apparently weeded out all of Dremlock's spies--and that they had set some kind of trap in Kalamede--made it a dire and unexpected situation. He was certain Taris would immediately lead his battalion to Dremlock to help fortify the kingdom--if the sorcerer could learn the truth in time. If not, Taris might get bogged down in Kalamede in a struggle for survival, leaving Dremlock without the protection of the White Flamestone. "You seem worried about something," Dallsa pointed out. She was seated in a chair across from him, clutching a pillow in her lap. She seemed just as tense as he was. The scent of cooking stew soon drifted out from the kitchen. Lannon shrugged. "I'm fine. The stew smells delicious." "My father does all the cooking," she said. "He's great at it. However, I get stuck with the dishes. I guess that's the price I must pay for good food." Lannon nodded. He gazed at a shelf on the wall--one of several--which held jars of tobacco and a row of books flanked by small Goblin statues. This home was clean and organized--unlike the shoddy cabin he'd grown up in. There were no ale jugs scattered about the floor or rats gnawing at stuff. There were no angry feelings or shouting. This was a peaceful and pleasant home, with beautiful paintings on the walls, fine dishes in glass cupboards, and fur rugs, and Lannon was envious of Dallsa. He thought of his parents and wondered how they were doing--if the cabin was now clean and things were peaceful. He hated to imagine they still lived in the wretched conditions he'd known. It seemed like madness that they had ever lived that way. He decided he would write them again when he got the chance. The stew and biscuits were excellent, and Lannon ate his fill. When the meal was finished Dalton lit a pipe and offered Lannon some. Although the tobacco smelled sweet, Lannon declined. He considered alcohol and tobacco to be unhealthy--ever associating the two substances with his father's poor health.

"Before you ride off for Kalamede," said Dalton, "I would like to discuss the issue concerning my daughter. She told me you're a Blue Knight of Dremlock, and I feel this might be a good opportunity for her. She definitely has a healer's touch, and such a gift could lead her to a life of prosperity. But more importantly, she would be helping the sick and injured of this land. She has such a caring soul. It is only proper that she get a chance to do some good in this world." Dallsa looked uncomfortable, her gaze focused on the pillow she was holding. Her face was red from embarrassment over the praise. "I agree," said Lannon, sipping at a mug of milk. "With Dremlock at war with the Blood Legion and Bellis, healers are in great demand. I will gladly ask Dremlock to send someone to test her--if she is willing." Dallsa didn't reply. She looked almost sad. "It has long been a dream of mine," said Dalton, "that she be recruited as a Squire of Dremlock. I would give just about anything to make it happen. If she could leave tonight, I would let her go--though I would miss her terribly. She needs something more than working in a shop with her father--a chance to grow and become someone that others love and respect. She needs a chance to earn a living doing something she loves. I want this for her more than I want anything, Lannon." "I understand," said Lannon, impressed by the shopkeeper's love for his daughter. "I'll do my best, but I can't promise anything." Dalton's ion for Dallsa becoming a Squire reminded Lannon of his father and his unshakable faith that Lannon would become a great Knight. Yet there was nothing exceptional about it. It was common throughout Silverland for parents to dream of their children becoming Divine Knights. Yet many of those children lacked the talent for it, and it was entirely possible that Dalton was simply being optimistic about his daughter's chances. "Of course not," said Dalton, bowing his head. "Yet I know you're an honorable man true to his word, and that you will indeed try your best." "Lannon, will you take a walk with me?" asked Dallsa. "I have something to show you that you might find interesting." "I really should be going," said Lannon, the anxiety rising within him again. "My

business in Kalamede is quite urgent." "It will only take a little bit of your time," said Dallsa, "and I'm certain you won't regret it." She rose and extended her hand. "Will you please walk with me in the forest?" Her face held a pleading expression. With a sigh, Lannon took her hand and rose. They left the shop and wandered into the misty woods along a trail, until they came to a winding river. On the river bank was a massive oak tree, its dark roots snaking down into the water and its mighty branches looming above Lannon and Dallsa. Its branches were as thick as most fully grown trees--with one being so heavy it had split from the tree, leaving a gaping wound in the trunk. In spite of being centuries old, spring buds had formed all over its branches. It was indeed an impressive tree, but Lannon wondered why it required his time. Dallsa paused beneath the oak. "Is this not a beautiful tree? I've always loved it. Yet it is a dark and suffering tree. If you fall asleep beneath it, you will have cold dreams. My touch offers it comfort." She placed her hand on the mossy trunk. "I can sense the relief I bring it--freedom from the dark sorcery that infests it." Lannon thought back to the apple tree at the Watchmen's Keep. Perhaps he'd found his healer who could free the tower from the clutches of the Deep Shadow. Of course, she wasn't even a Squire yet, but it was something for him to consider. It all depended on her talent level and character. "If I become a White Knight," said Dallsa, "perhaps I could return and free this tree from the Deep Shadow. And there are other trees in these woods that need attention. Isn't that a noble goal?" "You would do much more than help ancient trees," said Lannon. "You would be helping people sickened by the Deep Shadow." Dallsa bowed her head. "I'm not fooled, Lannon. If you leave, I know that no one will ever return to test me." "If not," said Lannon, "you could always journey to one of the major cities and get tested there. If you have the gift, you will likely become a Squire." "No," she said, a look of certainty on her face. "If I don't do something now, my

opportunity will vanish. I will continue working in the shop and perhaps meet someone to marry and raise children with. My dream will be ended." "You don't know that," said Lannon, glancing back along the trail and feeling overcome by the urge to ride on to Kalamede. "I do know it," she said, "with all my heart. That's why I want to journey with you--this very day--and start my new life." Lannon considered the request. The Eye of Divinity revealed her strong talent for healing sorcery, and he was certain Dremlock would accept her. But taking her to Kalamede could put her in grave danger. "There will be trouble there, Dallsa. I think it's too risky. Anything could happen." "I will stay out of danger," she said, "in the background somewhere. And there is risk everywhere in this land. Rogue Haven isn't the safest place on Gallamerth. There are bandits in this region, too--and slave owners who force people to fight for the crowds. I'm certain my father is hoping you will take me with you." "Wouldn't it be too sudden for him?" asked Lannon. "Wouldn't he want time to prepare? After all, you help him run the shop." "No, he wants me to go," she said, certainty in her eyes. "This is the opportunity he has been waiting for. He knows if I go with you, I am guaranteed a place at Dremlock. If I go and ask his permission right now, I will come back with a horse and all that I will need for the journey." Lannon hesitated, unsure of what to do. She seemed to feel so strongly that she should go with him that he hated to refuse her. And Dremlock was in need of as many White Knights as could be found. There were never enough of them. It could be a wise move to get her started on her training as soon as possible. "Very well, ask your father's permission," he said. "But remind him of the dangers in Kalamede when you do so. He should make a careful decision." "I will," said Dallsa, beaming with excitement. "This is my destiny, Lannon! I already know what his decision will be." He nodded. "Then let's go."

"You should wait for me here," she said. "I want time alone with my father while I pack my things. Then I will bring the horse." Lannon sighed. "Please try to hurry. I really need that horse as quickly as possible. Dremlock depends on it." "I'm on my way," she said, still grinning with excitement. She ran off down the trail, leaving Lannon to wonder how long he would have to wait. Almost an hour ed, as Lannon stood beside the cursed oak tree watching the river flow through the woods. At this point, he didn't care if Dallsa stayed in Rogue Haven or rode with him, for his single burning desire was to warn Taris of what the Eye of Dreams had revealed. He paced about impatiently, wondering what had become of her. He considering racing back to the shop and demanding the horse he'd been promised. But then Dallsa returned at last, leading a horse laden with packs. Her face was somber, and Lannon assumed that meant her father had refused. "I brought food and other supplies for both of us," she said, proving him wrong. "My father is sad, and so am I, but we're also both very happy. He wanted to speak to you again, but I told him you were in too big of a hurry. He extends his thanks to you and wants me to write to him as often as possible." "Let's move on, then," Lannon said, swinging onto the horse. He extended his hand to Dallsa. "I can't afford any more delays." With that, the two riders departed for Kalamede.

Chapter 13: Kalamede

The remaining journey to Kalamede was uneventful for Taris Warhawk's battalion, with good weather for traveling and no further attacks from Dremlock's foes. Prince Vannas seemed to fully recover from whatever was troubling him, and he demanded the White Flamestone be returned. Lothrin reluctantly complied, and the two cousins seemed to be getting along. The prince appeared to harbor a newfound inner strength and regain all of his old confidence. Aldreya was greatly relieved, and she began to think Vannas could overcome the drawbacks of wielding the Flamestone and perhaps even grow stronger as a result. Kalamede was the most dangerous city in Silverland, ravaged with crime and corruption. It had one of the highest murder rates on the entire continent of Gallamerth, coupled with one of the highest poverty levels. A shadow of despair always seemed to hang over the city, beneath which lay battered, abandoned houses and failing businesses. It had once been a prosperous place stoutly defended by Dremlock Kingdom, but when the City Council had repeatedly violated the Sacred Laws in allowing what Dremlock considered to be immoral business practices, the Divine Knights had withdrawn much of their -leaving the streets poorly protected against gangs of bandits and other dangers. After that, Kalamede had gone from being a shining, noble city to one where people feared to leave their homes. Dremlock still did much business there and still defended Kalamede from larger threats, but the kingdom banner was not allowed to be flown from the roof of the Council Hall (as it was in Silverland's other cities) and Kalamede received the least Knights, monetary assistance, and healing services. Kalamede was last on the list for everything, as Dremlock sought to pressure the City Council into changing its ways. Nevertheless, Dremlock's Knights were always given a warm welcome there, and so when Taris' battalion rode into the streets on a sunny spring day, it did so to cheers from crowds of onlookers. The City Guard was also present to greet them--warriors on horseback who wore green uniforms and bore slender swords and shields--along with the City Council. Guardsmen on foot lined the streets, blowing horns as the Divine Knights rode by. In spite of Dremlock's snubbing of

Kalamede, the welcoming was magnificent. It was a day when thieves and cutthroats hid trembling in the shadows and for once the streets were safe. "Quite the gathering," said Prince Vannas, who rode next to Aldreya. He waved and smiled at some of the onlookers. "This is how Divine Knights should be greeted." The prince sat tall in the saddle, looking strong and healthy. He wore colorful Birlote silk and carried a banner bearing the Crest of Dremlock. "We've come to save their city," said Aldreya, beaming with pride. "This is what Dremlock is all about--helping the weak. Look at the joy and gratitude on the faces of the people! They have suffered long enough." If only Lannon were here to see this, she thought, and for a moment she was overcome by sadness and worry. She wondered if she would ever see him again. The City Lord, a tall, grey-haired man named Vanaxe, bowed before them and instructed Taris to follow him to his mansion where they could talk in private. First they were led to a stable where they left their horses, and then Taris and the Divine Shield followed Vanaxe to his home. The mansion was near the Council Hall in the richest area of the city--an area that greatly contrasted most of Kalamede. All around were beautiful fountains, towering buildings and statues, clean cobblestone streets lined by lampposts, and well-dressed men and women moving about. The presence of the City Guard was strong here. Taris instructed his Knights to seek food and drink at the inns, and then the Divine Shield followed Vanaxe up some stone steps that led between marble pillars to the mansion's polished oaken front door. A guard pulled the door open, and they entered a large dining hall adorned with marble floor tiles, suits of armor, huge paintings on the walls, and a brick fireplace. They seated themselves at a long table and were served drinks. Vanaxe disappeared for a time while they waited for food to arrive, leaving his servants to look after them. At last the Knights were provided with a large meal of meat, bread, and fruit. Vorden had seemed uncertain of what to do, so he'd followed the Divine Shield and sat beside the young Knights. Finally he asked, "Should I be here, Master Taris? Or should I leave?" "A fine question," said Trenton, "when you are already halfway through your meal." He nodded to Vorden's platter of food. "Sorry," Vorden mumbled, even as he dipped some buttered bread in gravy and

hurriedly gobbled it up. "I was hungry." Taris gazed at him thoughtfully. "You fought well in the battle with the Blood Legion. Considering you are already a Grey Keeper, I see no reason you shouldn't be included in the Divine Shield. Does anyone protest?" "Is Vorden truly well enough for such a position?" asked Trenton. "It is quite risky to place someone recently contaminated by Tharnin near the White Flamestone. You seem awfully sure of yourself in this matter, Taris." "I am," said Taris. "But then again, I have earned the right to speak with confidence on matters like these. And the White Knights agree with me. Vorden is a strong fighter and a dear friend of Lannon and Aldreya. Also, he has already been in the company of Prince Vannas for sometime now." "Yet he is not a Knight," said Daledus. The Dwarf had been chewing on a large turkey drumstick, which he pointed at Vorden. "Is it proper for a Squire to be added to the Divine Shield, to have a say in important matters?" "We were all Squires not long ago," Aldreya pointed out. "And Vorden is as skilled as any Knight. Maybe he should be a Knight." "I have no objection to Vorden serving as a member," said Shennen. "I trust your word on it, Taris. However, Vorden must earn his Knighthood. I am opposed to any effort to simply hand it to him. He must pay his dues." "Vorden has paid many dues," said Taris, "and he will pay many more in the future. Make no mistake about that. But none of it is his fault. He was a victim of Tharnin and he has fought back bravely, surprising us all. His spirit is strong and noble and his mind is sharp. Yet I agree that he will have to earn Knighthood by proving himself--by not letting the shadows of his past drag him down. I only wish to appoint him to the Divine Shield as a matter of convenience. It would allow us to more easily watch over him. I also believe his skills make him an extremely valuable Knight and a worthy protector for Prince Vannas." "I trust Vorden to guard my back," said the prince. "At first I didn't want him near me, but I have come to respect him. I know his heart is free of Tharnin. I agree that he should be with the Divine Shield." "Thank you, Prince Vannas," said Vorden.

"Yet no one can know Vorden's intentions," said Trenton, "except him. To put it bluntly--he might still be plotting our downfall." "The Deep Shadow still haunts me," Vorden itted. "But my mind is clear and I know right from wrong. If I felt I was a danger to anyone around me--even slightly--I would ask to be put back in irons. I am not a danger." Trenton frowned. "I won't oppose him being added to the Divine Shield, but I do think he should be carefully watched." He fixed his icy gaze on Vorden. "In fact, I intend to do some of the watching myself." Vorden nodded. "Investigate me all you like, Trenton. I would expect no less from you, considering it is your job to be suspicious. And you will find I am true to my word." "We shall see," said Trenton, a gleam in his eye. "The Deep Shadow knows many disguises and will strike when it's least expected." The look on Trenton's face, and his tone of voice, chilled Aldreya. "Don't worry," she said in an effort to appease the Investigator, "I'll be watching Vorden day and night and will report anything out of the ordinary." Trenton ignored her. Taris waited a few moments longer, then said, "Vorden Flameblade, since no one opposes, you are now a member of the Divine Shield. However, you are still a Squire and your opinion carries less weight than those around you." "Understood," said Vorden, bowing. "Now let us eat and take a moment to relax," said Taris. "We are all weary and hungry, and more struggles await us." When the feast was finished, Vanaxe returned and seated himself at the table. The City Lord had a friendly face that was smooth for his age, and his grey hair was cut very short. He'd changed into a green robe and slippers. "Welcome, good Knights of Dremlock," he said, in a charismatic voice. "I do hope you enjoyed the food and wine. Now if I may, I would like to discuss the reason you're here." "Certainly," said Taris, sipping some water. "We are pressed for time and would

like to finish this business quickly." "Of course," said Vanaxe, lighting a pipe. "As would I. This has gone on far too long, Tower Master. Far too long. Kalamede has its problems, as you well know, but lately it has become so dangerous here that I fear the city is simply going to shut down forever. Folks continue to leave on a daily basis. This is a time of great despair for us." Taris gazed at him in thoughtful silence. Then he said, "Yet Kalamede has chosen its fate. The City Council continues to defy Dremlock and allow a form of human bondage that we consider to be slavery. This city is full of slaves who toil endlessly for the amusement of others." Vanaxe's face darkened. "And that is where we disagree, my friend. A person in debt is not a slave--for they have chosen that path and must face the consequences. It is fair business and they know the risks." "It is the way of abuse and torment," said Taris. "Young men--forced to work in brutal conditions for no pay. Young women, wandering the streets and suffering so others may profit. This is an evil city, Vanaxe." "And yet what has Dremlock accomplished," said Vanaxe, "by withholding aid? This city has simply collapsed, and the suffering has grown worse. The Divine Knights are partially responsible for the decay here." "We had to take a stand," said Taris, "and so we have. Better this city vanishes into abandoned ruin than allow people to suffer in bondage." Vanaxe sighed. "Kalamede has its share of troubles, yes. However, I was hoping we could avoid such talk and focus on this latest threat. Did you come here to lecture me yet again, Tower Master, or to deal with these cultists?" Taris gave a wry smile. "You grow tired of Dremlock's lectures, and we grow tired of giving them. But know this--the practices in Kalamede will come to an end one day, if Dremlock has its say." Vanaxe shifted about uncomfortably. "I see. Well, does anyone else have an opinion?" He gazed at Shennen, Daledus, and Trenton. No one else spoke.

"Then on to the matter of the Ironheart Priests," said Vanaxe. "We don't really know what they want with our city or even how they came to lurk in the sewers below. They just started appearing down there at some point. They emerge at night to loot and vandalize, striking terror into all of Kalamede. They have abducted people and taken them below--people who were never seen again. We've sent the City Guard down there several times, but they could find no trace of the cultists or their victims. This is definitely something only Dremlock is capable of dealing with." "We will do our best," said Taris, "with the limited time that we have. The threat of Bellis is always with us, and all decisions must be made with that in mind. Some of my Knights must remain on the surface to wait for from the Elder Hawks, in case we are summoned back to Dremlock." "Agreed," said Vanaxe. "Also, the tunnels are narrow below the streets, so taking your entire battalion below together is not a wise move anyway. I suggest you split it into at least three groups and enter the sewers in three different areas of the city. Is that acceptable?" Taris glanced at Trenton and Shennen, and they nodded. "Yes, we will split into three," Taris replied. "That will allow us to do a more thorough search of the sewers. Hopefully, we will learn why the cultists have come here." "It won't be an easy fight," said Vanaxe, "even for Divine Knights. The Ironheart Priests are very powerful, as the City Guard has learned. They wield dark sorcery and are masters of setting snares." "Rest assured, City Lord," said Prince Vannas, "that we will cleanse Kalamede of their presence. Their sorcery will be no match for our own." Vanaxe nodded. "You show great confidence, which helps ease my mind." He glanced at Taris. "So when do you want to get started?" "As soon as we rest for a while," said Taris. "I want my Knights to have a bit of merrymaking first. We have seen much darkness and bloodshed lately, and there is certain to be more of it below the city." "On that we can agree," said Vanaxe, a strange glint in his eye. ***

After the merrymaking was finished, the Divine Shield and fifteen Knights entered the sewers not far from the City Lord's mansion. They climbed down an iron ladder into a cramped and altogether unpleasant stone tunnel. Birlote torches were brought forth, revealing stone walkways on either side of the dark water. Rats scurried about in the crimson light of the glowing gems. Prince Vannas shook his head in disgust. "Into the wretched depths we go. Let us pray we finish this mission quickly." "Indeed," said Galvia, shuddering. "I can think of a few places I'd rather be. I hate rats. And these ones are huge!" Jerret glanced about, looking unhappy. "I don't mind the rats too much, but I hate feeling closed in like this, with all this stone above us. I really, really hate it. It reminds me of Dremlock's mines." Aldreya felt the same way. As a Birlote, she'd grown up in the treetops with much freedom to move about. She wasn't fond of caves or tunnels--especially foul, narrow ones like these sewers. It made her feel short on breath and filled her with the urge to escape back up to open sky. "It smells worse than the Bloodlands down here," Lothrin muttered. "Lannon is lucky he is missing out on this adventure." Daledus Oakfist chuckled. The stocky Dwarf waved a Birlote torch around, examining the walls. Then he handed the torch to Aldreya and explained: "I need two hands to fight. Just don't lose it in the slop, as we've only got a few of them, and I'm not going to dig around for it." Aldreya's grip tightened around the torch handle as she glanced at the dark water. "Don't worry, I won't be dropping anything in there." Trenton coughed, his face flushed. "My investigations have led me into some filthy places, but this wins the prize." He held his stomach. "The air is dangerous down here," said Taris. "Breathe shallowly, my friends, and avoid the use of fire unless we absolutely need it." "I have no issue with breathing shallowly," said Daledus, wrinkling his nose. "But what's wrong with a bit of flame? I would hate for us to have to surrender

our greatest advantage in a fight." "A single spark could cause our doom," said Taris, "if we happen to be in the wrong place. As I said, the air is dangerous." He frowned. "A Dwarf should know about these things." Daledus shrugged. "We dwell in caverns, not stinking sewers." "Beware of the rats as well," said Taris, "for these ones possess long teeth and can spread disease easily with a single bite." "That's where a bit of fire would be useful," said Daledus, nodding to himself. "Burn them all to ash." "What did those rats do to you?" asked Shennen, looking amused. "Nothing yet," said Daledus, "but the fact that they exist is enough for me to want them dead." As he spoke, he stomped at a rat that got too close and missed. He nearly lost his balance and fell into the water. Shennen grinned. They found themselves in a maze of rat-infested tunnels. Some of the rats were diseased and tried to bite them, though most simply scurried away. One Brown Knight suffered a bite from a diseased rat when it dropped from the ceiling and landed on the back of his neck. He howled in despair--his voice echoing through the tunnels--and tore the creature away. The journey was halted while the White Knights set to work on him to weed out the possible infection. Aside from the danger of rats, poisonous snakes slithered through the water silently now and then, some of them sliding up onto the stone walkways and hissing at the intruders. Large centipedes also lurked in the tunnels, moving swiftly in and out of the torchlight. Aldreya's skin crawled as she waved the torch about, and she wondered what new and nasty sights she would see. Suddenly, Shennen swung his short sword over Aldreya's head--so close it touched her hair. The blade struck the stone wall and a long, writhing snake-now missing its head--dropped down next to her. She clamped her hand over her mouth to smother a scream and jumped back. The poisonous snake had been emerging from a hole in the stone blocks.

Shennen winked at her. "That sneaky fellow was about to give you a kiss on the cheek when it tasted my blade instead." Aldreya shuddered. "Thank you, Shennen." Taris paused and leaned against the stone wall, his chest heaving. He raised his hand to indicate he was okay. "Just my old wounds troubling me once again," he said. "I need to moment to steady myself. Being down here makes me wish I had gone ahead and retired to Borenthia. I could be smelling sweet leaves and wood smoke instead of..." He muttered something under his breath. Trenton shook his head in amazement. "I don't know how you manage to go on, Taris. If I was in as much pain as you are half the time, my days as a Divine Knight would be over. It makes me think you're crazy." Taris turned and smiled. "Perhaps I am. I always tend to think that Dremlock can't do without me. But the kingdom was around long before I was born. Perhaps I'm a fool who suffers for nothing." "Nonsense," said Shennen. "Dremlock needs you--more than you realize. I, for one, am quite grateful you have chosen to remain and see this conflict through. I'm sure I speak for everyone here--even Trenton." Trenton nodded. "Yes, I agree wholeheartedly. Taris, you have done more for the survival of Dremlock than anyone I know." "Perhaps," said Taris. "Yet even as my skills improve with experience and training, my body struggles to keep going. I'm not sure where it will all end." He fell silent and again leaned against the filthy wall. "Take a rest, everyone," Trenton ordered. "No," said Taris, standing tall once again. "We need to get done with this mission. I know it is too late, but I am feeling more doubtful than ever about the wisdom of us being here. After all, Bellis is the real threat. Why aren't we at Dremlock, with the White Flamestone ready to defend the kingdom?" No one answered for a moment, and then Shennen said, "Because we're Divine Knights, my friend, and we can't let these Ironheart Priests continue to terrorize this city. While it's true that Kalamede is an immoral place, it is not our way to

leave innocent people to suffer." "That," said Trenton, "and Kalamede supplies many of our resources. It would be folly to ignore a major threat to the city." "Of course," said Taris. "Perhaps I just needed someone to remind me of those things. Now let us move on." They started off again. "Do we even know where we're going?" asked Jerret, as he stumbled over a brick. "Without Lannon, we're just wandering blind. And if we can't use fire, what good is the White Flamestone?" Again Taris paused, shaking his head in amusement. "That last question is a good one, Jerret. Believe it or not, I hadn't thought about that. I think my brain has been foggy lately from the head wound--or something." Prince Vannas looked disgusted. "You mean I must fight with my blade? Then why did we even bring the White Flamestone here?" "Use it if you have to," said Taris. "But try to keep the fire focused exclusively on your target. Be very careful, or you'll kill us all." "I can focus the flame," said Vannas, "and make it very narrow. I've done it before, though it makes for a less effective weapon." "Nevertheless," said Taris, "use it only if left with no choice. I fear there are pockets of gas down here that could ignite." "How do you know so much about sewers?" asked Daledus. "Taris knows about everything," said Shennen. "He's as old as the mountains." Taris chuckled. "I am indeed old by Norack and Olrog standards, and I've picked up a bit of knowledge along the way." Jace, who had been a silent shadow since they reached Kalamede, at last broke free of his sullen mood and said, "Well, I am even older than Taris, yet I'm proud to say that I am not an expert on sewers."

"You will be after this mission," said Shennen. "If you think about it," said Taris, "the sewers beneath Kalamede are an amazing feat of engineering. There is nothing quite like them in Silverland. They were designed by the Grey Dwarves from the nearby mountain kingdom of Fallenrock." Daledus slapped the wall, looking proud. "I should have known my people were behind this fine system of sanitation." "Yes, it's quite amazing," muttered Jace. "I'm in total awe." Aldreya started to laugh, but it was cut short by a warning cry from some of the Knights. Moments later, the tunnel was flooded with blue-robed, hooded figures, armed with iron maces, who charged forth from the shadows beyond the torchlight. The attack was so swift that the Divine Knights were caught off guard, and for a moment they were pushed back beneath a flurry of blows. The Ironheart Priests did not look human--possessing orange, warty skin and fingers that ended in claws. They had become monsters of the Deep Shadow--a hybrid form of Goblin and human that was considered an abomination by Dremlock. "Don't use any fire!" Taris reminded them, as the foes clashed. "Prince Vannas, hold back--let the other Keepers defend you. Watch for snakes!" "Snakes?" Daledus asked, but there was no time for talk. Forced to surrender their greatest advantage, the Knights fought back with cold weapons. The Ironheart Priests were very strong and swift, and they harbored tremendous combat skills--but they were going up against some of Dremlock's greatest Knights. The City Guardsmen held back behind Jerret and Aldreya, letting Dremlock shoulder the burden of battle. Without the ability to use fire, Aldreya felt helpless. The burning blade or fireball were her primary methods of attack. Aside from that, all she had was her dagger--and she wasn't greatly skilled in using it as a weapon. Frustrated, she stayed behind the others and away from the Priests. Aldreya found it odd that the City Guard was standing back with drawn weapons, but no one else seemed to notice. She assumed they were focused on guarding the rear. As she glanced toward them, she noted what looked like a

malicious smile on the bearded face of the one of them as he gazed back at her. She wasn't sure what to make of it and turned her attention back to the battle. Prince Vannas stood next to Aldreya, looking sullen. "I wasted my time coming to Kalamede!" he snarled. Jerret stepped in front of the prince, broadsword in hand. The muscular Red Knight bore his usual delighted expression whenever battle was in progress. "Stay behind me," he commanded. "Let me handle this." Lothrin, Galvia, and Vorden also moved forward. The walkway was narrow, and splashes arose as some of the combatants ended up in the stream of filthy water-which thankfully was only knee deep. Taris Warhawk's primary attacks were based on fire as well, but he was far from helpless. He seized a Priest's mace and tore it away, then shoved the cultist into a wall with devastating force that caused bones to crack. Taris moved with a speed beyond that of his foes, his stone dagger lashing out to inflict deadly wounds. He didn't fight with the agility and elegance of a Blue Knight. Rather, he fought like a sorcerer--with simple, precise movements. But his speed and strength was such a huge advantage he was nearly untouchable. His sorcery was fused with his muscles and blade, turning him into a seemingly invincible warrior. Only his old wounds threatened to slow him--revealed in an awkward movement or grimace now and then. As the battle intensified, a Priest lunged at Jerret with the intent of crushing his skull. Jerret bashed the mace aside with his Glaetherin broadsword and then drove the weapon through the cultist's chest, finishing him. He yanked the sword free just in time to block another mace stroke from another charging Priest. The Priest wrapped his arms around Jerret and tried to crush him. The cultist possessed unnatural strength that caused his arms to tighten like constricting serpents. Jerret's sword dropped to the walkway with a clatter, and for a moment, Jerret seemed to be losing ground, his face growing crimson as he fought to keep from being crushed. Aldreya started forward to help, but then, with a grunt, Jerret somehow broke free and punched the cultist in the jaw--a blow that knocked the Priest unconscious into the slop. The Red Knight quickly retrieved his broadsword and ordered Aldreya back into position behind him. Aldreya was flooded with both gratitude and annoyance. She wasn't fond of

being protected by Jerret (who no doubt relished his role as her protector), but with her sorcery not a factor, she had little choice but to do as he commanded. Vannas looked terribly unhappy as he leaned against the tunnel wall. Some of the dark water had splashed onto him from the fighting and dripped down his sullen face. Angrily, he wiped it away with the sleeve of his expensive cloak. Jace lifted two cultists into the air by the throats. They looked as small as children next to him. They fought back viciously but were no match for his strength. He flung them at the other cultists, knocking over a few. Trenton was cornered by two of the Priests, and his sword was batted from his hand. As they raised their maces to crush him, Daledus caught one them from behind with his oversized battle axe. The blow from the enraged dwarf crushed through bone and killed the evil cultist in an instant. The axe not only slew the cultist but also shattered the stone walkway. Shennen took out the other Priest, stabbing him through the heart with his Flayer. Some of the Knights went down, crushed by mace blows. Two of the Priests hurled twisting, poisonous snakes from a basket into Dremlock's ranks. The snakes bit on , injecting venom so deadly there was no chance at a cure. One of the writhing snakes landed in Daledus' beard and got tangled. He cried out, his eyes wide, but a swift Flayer stroke from Shennen cut the snake's head off. With a grimace, Daledus flung the headless serpent away. Jace was a huge target, and he was forced to swat several flying snakes aside. Unfortunately, one of the snakes he swatted landed on a Blue Knight's shoulder and buried its fangs in the warrior's neck. The Blue Knight staggered, groaning with the realization that his life had reached an end, and then collapsed. "Sorry," Jace mumbled pointlessly, looking appalled at what he'd done. He didn't have time to lament, however, as more snakes hurtled at him. Shennen cut down several flying snakes with his Flayer, and Daledus stomped some of them beneath his wide boots. The snakes posed an even greater danger after they landed, for they slithered around striking at anyone they could get to. The Priests were also bitten, but they were immune to the venom. Three more Knights collapsed from snakebites. The two White Knights that accompanied the battalion were unable to get to the fallen, and instead busied themselves with smashing snakes with their clubs.

And then Lothrin leapt out into the water and un-slung his bow, taking aim at the Priests who were hurling the snakes. It took two perfect shots to dispatch them, but the Birlote Ranger was up to the task. His arrows found their throats and the snake-throwing came to a halt, as the baskets dropped into the water and the snakes poured out, swimming in random directions. Some of the Priests charged at Lothrin, their orange faces twisted with fury. He put away his bow and drew his long dagger. The other Knights cut down three of them, but two reached him, swinging their iron maces. Lothrin dodged the blows and got around behind them with a swift spin move. He finished one of them with a thrust through the heart. As the other turned, Lothrin yanked his dagger free and caught the cultist in the throat in the same motion. The two Priests lay bleeding in the water, stunned looks on their inhuman faces. The remaining Priests turned and fled along the tunnel, flooding it with a thick blue smoke as they ran. Taris ordered the battalion to halt and wait for the smoke to clear, as snakes were still lurking about and the risk of moving forward blindly was too great. Two injured cultists finished themselves off with daggers before the Knights could interrogate them, leaving only the dead. The healers attended to injuries, and the Knights who had fallen in battle were laid on the walkways to await removal. At last the smoke cleared and the battalion moved on through the maze of tunnels. When they came to a long, straight ageway where the water ran beneath a stone floor, the City Guard took the lead and instructed the Knights to hold back. "There is a trap here," they explained. "It is very complex. It requires several of us to disable it. The cultists know how to avoid it, but anyone else who doesn't know of it is as good as dead." Taris gazed at them with a gleam in his eye, then said, "Very well. Yet I will accompany you in case you require my assistance." "It won't be necessary," they replied. "I must insist," said Taris, stepping forward. Suddenly, one of the Guardsmen turned and dashed off down the tunnel. The others formed a wall in front of the Divine Knights. "Die in the name of Tharnin!" one of them cried. "May the Divine Essence suffer!" another shouted.

Enraged, the Divine Knights surged against the traitors and quickly cut them down--but the lone fleeing guard activated a lever further down the tunnel. Two heavy stone slabs descended from the ceiling, closing off the Divine Knights. A hissing noise arose as green vapor flooded the tunnel from slots in the stone walls. Soon the air was filled with it. "Toxic smoke!" Jace warned, racing to one of the stone slabs and smashing his bony fist against it. The slab refused to yield on that first blow. Prince Vannas took out the White Flamestone, but the vapor had already begun to overcome him. With a groan, he toppled over. Daledus reached the slab and swung his axe against it, but he was already too weak to do much damage. His legs failing, he slumped against the wall. The others were failing just as quickly. Aldreya watched as Taris staggered over and tried to help Jace smash through the stone barrier, and she saw both sorcerers falter and drop to their knees. In moments, everyone would be unconscious and would be an easy kill for their foes. Aldreya was flooded with despair, hating the thought that her life would end in these wretched sewers. In a panic, she fought fiercely to remain conscious, as Lothrin, Jerret, and Galvia fell around her. Vorden struggled forward, his face twisted with determination. But then at last he too went down, his lungs filled with the vile smoke. The last thing Aldreya saw before she slipped away was Jace rise once again and smash his fist against the door--a last desperate blow. The stone cracked, and a flicker of hope arose within her. But it hadn't broken through, and Jace sank down once again, his fingers dragging along the slab as he fell. And then Aldreya was gone into blackness.

Chapter 14: The Mouth of Madness

While Taris and his Knights were fighting for survival in the tunnels below Kalamede, Lannon and Dallsa rode into the city streets. This was Lannon's first voyage to Kalamede, and he wasn't impressed. Everywhere he looked were ugly, decaying buildings and people with bitter or hostile expressions. He did not receive the royal welcome the others had. No one was expecting Lannon, and due to his concealing cloak and lack of visible armor, no one knew he was a Divine Knight. He could have been any rogue or traveler on horseback. "We need to find the City Council," said Lannon. "They should be able to tell us if Taris has been here yet and where we can find him." From the shoddy look of the area, Lannon doubted the City Council was anywhere close by. "Ugh!" said Dallsa, glancing about. "Kalamede seems worse every time I see it. I hate this city. There are thieves and violent people everywhere who love to prey on the weak. Don't leave me alone for a second, Lannon." Lannon sighed. "And that's exactly what I was afraid of--having to guard you every second here. You can't possibly follow me into the sewers, if that's where I end up going, yet I fear leaving your side." She bowed her head. "I am sorry to have placed such a burden upon you. Perhaps I should have remained in Rogue Haven. Obviously, I can't do much to protect myself. Of course, a White Knight isn't expected to fight." "That's not correct," said Lannon. "White Knights do have combat skills. They fight with clubs or staffs, mostly. Some of them carry shields. They tend to avoid combat when possible, but when they have to defend themselves or others they're actually quite good at it." "I didn't know that," she said, looking unhappy. "I wasn't expecting to have to learn any fighting techniques. Maybe I'm not fit for the role." "The combat skills are secondary," said Lannon. "It's really your healing ability that counts. I didn't have any combat skills when I first went to Dremlock, but I

learned quickly enough. You'll get a lot of training." "That's wonderful," said Dallsa, "but right now I'm just in your way. I guess I was being selfish in wanting to travel with you." "Don't worry about it," he said. "I'll figure something out." They rode around a bit through the streets and then spotted a Guardsman on horseback who gazed at them with suspicion--a lean, black-haired man with bushy sideburns, battered chain mail, and a dirty green uniform. He looked to be a few years older than Lannon. They asked for directions to the City Council. He told them the Council was off limits except by appointment and demanded to see some credentials. Lannon had two sets of Knightly credentials (or scrolls signed by Cordus Landsaver), one of which bore the fake name of Jalvan Redhelm. One of Lannon's duties as a Blue Knight (and the Bearer of the Eye of Divinity) was to maintain secrecy whenever possible, and Lannon was under orders to show his fake credentials most of the time; so he produced the bogus scroll and handed it over. "Jalvan Redhelm," mumbled the Guardsman, reading the scroll. "Master Red Knight of Dremlock." He looked Lannon up and down and frowned. "Very well. Are you here concerning the business with the cultists?" Lannon nodded. "Then you should see Vanaxe, the City Lord," said the Guardsman. "He is handling all of that. I'll escort you to his mansion." "Thank you," said Lannon, relieved that he was at last making progress in Kalamede. He wondered if Bellis had already begun advancing on Dremlock, and he guided his horse along anxiously behind the Guardsman, wanting to go faster. The Guardsman seemed to be in no hurry, however. "Could we speed things up a bit?" Lannon asked. "This business is quite urgent." The Guardsman turned and glared at him, then nodded. "Okay, not a problem." However, he didn't appear to speed up any. As they rode along the streets, Lannon's gaze ed over crumbling houses and rat-infested alleys. Garbage lay everywhere. Homeless people slept in the streets,

and shady-looking folks ducked into back alleys as they spotted the Guardsman. Window shutters banged shut as they ed by. "Is this your first visit to Kalamede?" asked the Guardsman. "Yes," said Lannon, wondering how a city in Silverland could exist in such a dreary state. This was vastly different than Knights Welcome. "Not a pleasant area of town, obviously," said the Guardsman. "It's ugly and it stinks. But soon enough you'll get a glimpse of what Kalamede used to be like, before Dremlock turned its back on us and crime took over." "How did Dremlock turn its back on Kalamede," asked Lannon, "when it has sent Knights to weed out the cultists? Also, we recently defended the city against a massive Goblin attack. That latter effort cost us many Knights." He knew he shouldn't haven taken the bait and responded, but he had a burning desire to defend his kingdom whenever someone spoke ill of it. The Guardsman shrugged. "Dremlock does only what it has to do--because your kingdom does business with us. Otherwise, it would ignore us completely. I'm not trying to insult you, Master Jalvan. I'm just speaking the truth." Lannon, who didn't fully understand the politics behind Dremlock's relationship with Kalamede, fell silent. He had no desire to argue about something he understood so poorly, but he was irritated by how ungrateful this Guardsman acted toward Lannon's beloved kingdom--as if he wanted to blame anyone except the leaders of Kalamede. After that, the Guardsman took to whistling and seemed to go even slower, which annoyed Lannon greatly. But he held his tongue. *** After navigating the wealthy area of the city, Lannon and Dallsa were escorted into the mansion and up three flights of stairs to the City Lord's office. They ed marble floors, suits of armor, elegant sculptures, and life-sized paintings. There were lush rugs and chandlers, and servants wandering to and fro. They found Vanaxe within studying a stack of papers on his desk. His office was a large room with oaken walls lined with bookshelves. Open window shutters

revealed a view of a stream lined with trees in the backyard. A mild, pleasantsmelling incense burned in a holder on the desk. "Greetings, Lord Vanaxe," said the Guardsman. "I present to you Jalvan Redhelm, Master Red Knight of Dremlock." He glanced at Dallsa. "And I wasn't yet introduced to his friend." She bowed. "I am Dallsa, his...travel companion." Vanaxe raised his eyebrows. "Travel companion? Well, it's always a bonus to have one of those. The road gets lonely sometimes in Silverland, with the long stretches between towns and all. Pleased to meet both of you!" Flashing them a warm smile, he extended his hand. Lannon was instantly put at ease by the City Lord's pleasant demeanor. Vanaxe was a handsome, clean-shaven fellow with eyes that were very alert and engaging. He seemed to know his business (whatever it happened to be), instilling confidence in Lannon that he would work hard to get things done. Lannon shook Vanaxe's hand. "To get to the point, I am here seeking news on Taris Warhawk and his battalion." Lannon continued to glance about, impressed by the appearance of wealth around him. Everything looked extremely expensive and was polished to a shine. Although this mansion could have been the residence for anyone holding the office of City Lord, Lannon got the impression that Vanaxe had done very well for himself. Vanaxe emanated an aura of wealth, power, and confidence. "Ah yes," said Vanaxe. He dismissed the Guardsman, who stepped out and closed the door, leaving them alone. He organized his papers into a neat stack and sat them aside, while Lannon looked on impatiently. "Taris arrived several hours ago and has gone below to deal with the threat of the cultists." Lannon's heart sank. So he'd been that close to catching up to the Tower Master. Now he would have to search for him in the sewers--which meant Lannon also risked falling into whatever trap Bellis had set. Vanaxe lit a pipe and puffed away at it, looking quite relaxed. "Would you care for a smoke? I have some of Borenthia's finest leaf on hand, which I reserve for Divine Knights when they visit."

"I need to Taris immediately," said Lannon, ignoring the question. "It is a very urgent matter concerning a threat to our kingdom." "Can you tell me the nature of this threat?" asked Vanaxe, frowning. "I'm guessing it has something to do with the Blood Legion or Bellis--hopefully not the latter. Any news concerning Bellis these days is quite unsettling. I fear greatly for this city, which is certain to be a major target for King Verlamer." Lannon wondered if there was any harm in revealing the truth. With all of Silverland at stake--including Kalamede--he decided the City Lord should know what was going on. Also, perhaps Vanaxe could send a message to Dremlock by means of an Elder Hawk. "Bellis is planning to attack Dremlock," said Lannon, "and has set some kind of snare for Taris here in Kalamede." Vanaxe nodded, his face grim. "That is indeed urgent news. I suspected this issue with the cultists could be some kind of elaborate trap, but I had no idea Bellis was behind it. When it comes to the threat of The Golden Kingdom, Kalamede is totally helpless. We have no army. Bellis could just march in and own us. In fact, I have no idea why it hasn't done so already. Hasn't it conquered every other city and kingdom outside of Silverland?" "Most of them, yes," said Lannon. "Right now I believe Bellis is too focused on Dremlock to worry about Kalamede." "I certainly hope so," said Vanaxe. "But if Bellis should march on us, I do hope that Dremlock would come to our aid." "Dremlock cannot protect Kalamede from Bellis," said Lannon. "We can defend you from the cultists--possibly--but not from Bellis. If they choose to send warriors here, Kalamede will be occupied. At the moment, we're reduced to simply protecting Dremlock from invasion." "So what are you saying?" asked Vanaxe, looking displeased. "I'm saying," said Lannon, "that Taris needs to leave immediately for Dremlock. The issue of the cultists will have to be abandoned. And if possible, I need this information to be sent to Dremlock by an Elder Hawk." Vanaxe groaned and rubbed his forehead. "My good Knight, you truly bring wretched news! But I understand the bind you're in. If Dremlock falls, then

Kalamede certainly will end up occupied by Bellis. So rest assured, I will send the message to your kingdom immediately." Vanaxe's friendly, confident demeanor had disintegrated. He seemed suddenly on edge. Lannon bowed. "Thank you. Now I must go and search for Taris. Can you escort me to where he entered the sewers?" He glanced at Dallsa, still wondering what he was going to do with her. He decided she would be safe with Vanaxe and his Guardsmen. "And can my travel companion remain in this mansion under your protection until I return?" "Certainly," said Vanaxe. "I welcome her." He gazed at Lannon for a moment, chewing his lip anxiously as if deciding something, then asked, "How did you learn about Bellis' plans? I simply must know." The question instantly provoked Lannon's suspicions. Something about Vanaxe's behavior seemed off--as if he'd been thrown into a panic. The City Lord's knuckles were white as he gripped the edge of the desk. "I cannot reveal that," said Lannon. "I understand," said Vanaxe, though his face darkened. "You have your secrets, of course, that you will never share--even if keeping them would cost others dearly. Such is the way with Divine Knights." Lannon probed him with the Eye of Divinity, and it revealed that Vanaxe was hiding some dark secret. The Eye was not able to reveal the true nature of that secret, but it detected traces of malicious sorcery. It wasn't proof that Vanaxe was corrupted by Tharnin, but it made Lannon's suspicions grow by leaps and bounds. The Deep Shadow could disguise itself in a human--even from the Eye of Divinity--but sometimes hints of its presence were revealed. Those hints were enough for Lannon to grow alarmed and decide to take action. He was in Kalamede--far from Dremlock--and he didn't need the High Council's approval to act. It was left to his judgment to decide how best to deal with the City Lord. Lannon stepped closer to him. "Are you sure you're telling me everything about this situation, Lord Vanaxe?" "Of course," said Vanaxe, his eyes cold. Lannon hesitated. "I don't think you are being honest. I sense that you are hiding

something important." Dallsa gazed at Lannon with wide eyes. "We've discussed the issue enough," said Vanaxe. "I've revealed everything I know. I find your attitude to be rude and insulting, and I must ask that you leave this mansion and go about your business. Good day, Master Jalvan." Lannon didn't move. He reminded himself what was at stake--that this wasn't the time to back down. "Not until I learn the truth." Vanaxe glowered at him. He was trembling. "Very well, I've heard enough. If you doubt me, then I doubt you! Show me your credentials, Master Jalvan--if indeed you are a Red Knight of Dremlock." Lannon produced the fake credentials and handed them over. Vanaxe studied the scroll with a sneer. "Show me your real credentials," the City Lord said. "I've dealt with Divine Knights for many years, and you don't look or act like a Red Knight. You are slender of build--like one of Dremlock assassins!" Lannon hesitated, then produced the scroll that bore his real name. He opened it wide for Vanaxe to see. "Now that you know who I am, you might also realize that I can see you're hiding something." For an instant, Vanaxe gazed at the scroll in shock. Then he composed himself. "I must it, I wasn't expecting to see you, Lannon Sunshield." "Because you thought I was dead?" Lannon asked. "Perhaps you were hoping I was dead. Yet here I am, seeking the truth." Lannon sensed that things had gone too far now. If Vanaxe was corrupted by Tharnin, he was likely to try to have Lannon arrested. Lannon's hand settled onto his sword hilt, and he wondered just what type of situation he'd gotten himself into. Where would it all lead? Vanaxe rose, his face twisted into a scowl. "This is gravely insulting to me, oh Bearer of the Eye. You come into my humble home filled with accusations. Yes, I have heard of you, Lannon Sunshield, and some of the things I've heard were not good. You are an arrogant Knight. And worse, you're too young to realize your own folly that will get you in deep trouble." "Sorry if I offended you," said Lannon. "That wasn't my intent. But you are

hiding something important, and I will find out what it is." "No, you won't!" Vanaxe snarled. "You have no authority here, ? Dremlock turned its back on Kalamede. Now, again, I order you to get out! By your own Sacred Laws, you are required to obey!" Dallsa glanced toward the door. "Maybe we should leave. This is his home, Lannon, and we don't really have proof of anything." "Listen to your companion," said Vanaxe, "for she is wise." Lannon continued to gaze sternly at Vanaxe. "I'm not leaving." Vanaxe sneered. "Then go ahead and stand there like a fool. I will simply call my guards and have you removed. Or will you kill innocent men just to prove a point? What would your precious High Council think of your behavior?" Lannon wondered if he was indeed behaving like a fool. Perhaps if Taris was in this situation, he would simply leave for lack of evidence. Lannon didn't know what Taris would do, because he lacked the sorcerer's great wisdom. Lannon was barely a grown man and quite inexperienced in dealing with Knightly matters. Still, he was compelled to hold his ground. The threat to Dremlock was too great, and Lannon knew he had to make something happen. "I'm placing you under arrest," said Lannon, drawing his sword. He had no idea where this was going. Even if the City Lord agreed to become his prisoner, that wouldn't help him locate Taris or warn Dremlock. But he'd already spoken the words and felt he had to proceed with it. Dallsa's face was pale. "Um, Lannon, what are you doing?" "I have no idea," Lannon mumbled in response. The City Lord nodded. "I see. So you do want this to end in violence. I was hoping we could conclude this discussion peacefully, but it is not to be. Fine by me. Actually, this is my chance at greatness--my chance to crush the Bearer of the Eye!" Vanaxe opened a desk drawer and reached inside it. When his hand came out, it was fitted with a crystal gauntlet--a claw--that glowed with crimson energy. He snarled: "Now the fool has forced me to end him!"

Lannon raised his sword, as he calmed himself with a Knightly meditation technique. "So, the City Lord is revealed to be a puppet of Bellis and the Deep Shadow. And no doubt Taris has fallen into your trap." "Yes, Taris blundered into it," said Vanaxe, with a humorless grin. He shoved the heavy desk aside as if it were weightless and stepped toward Lannon. "In fact, Taris and his Knights may be dead already--and good riddance. I always hated that arrogant fool. The White Flamestone is ours now." With a gulp, Dallsa stepped away from Lannon, putting her back to the wall. Lannon simply stood and waited, his sword held before him. "You will lead me to Taris," said Lannon, pointing his sword at Vanaxe. In response, Vanaxe swung at Lannon's head with the claw. The weapon moved with tremendous speed, but Lannon managed to duck the blow. Lannon retaliated with a sword stroke, but the City Master somehow caught the blade with his claw and ripped it from Lannon's hand. Lannon took a step back in shock. Vanaxe's claw reminded him of the Hand of Tharnin, and the Eye revealed a demonic presence within the weapon. The claw could make decisions and move on its own. Tossing the sword aside, Vanaxe leapt on Lannon in a blur and bore him to the floor, trying to choke him with the claw. The crystal fingers clamped down on Lannon's throat. Vanaxe's eyes blazed with vicious intent and salvia dripped from his mouth as he squeezed. Without the power of the Eye, Lannon's throat would have been crushed in an instant. "Now you know the truth," grunted Vanaxe, "that I am no weak puppet of Tharnin! I am an elite servant! Now die in misery!" He let out a hideous bellow and doubled his efforts to crush Lannon's windpipe. Lannon flooded his muscles with the Eye and ripped the claw away from his neck. He shoved the City Lord off him. Vanaxe tumbled across the floor and into the desk, smashing it into pieces. Lannon pulled out his Glaetherin throwing star and hurled it at Vanaxe, but the City Lord deflected it with the crystal claw in a flash of crimson. The star blade lodged deep in the wall and was lost from view. In return, Vanaxe hurled a

crimson fireball at Lannon's chest. Lannon twisted out of its way and it exploded into the door, blasting it into charred fragments. "Time to die, Blue Knight!" Vanaxe howled. For an instant, he crouched like a wolf, as if summoning energy for an attack. Lannon summoned his sword back to his hand, just as Vanaxe sprang up and charged him. Vanaxe's eyes gleamed yellow and a shadow of evil had darkened his face. Vanaxe was lost in his rage--too focused on making the kill--and Lannon was able to pierce his defenses and thrust the Dragon sword through the City Lord's heart. Howling, Vanaxe clutched at the blade with one hand and flung another crimson fireball at Lannon with the claw. Lannon ducked the blazing orb and it exploded against the wall behind him, blasting a charred hole in the oak boards. Vanaxe screeched in fury and raised the claw again. Lannon yanked his sword free and beheaded the City Lord, finishing him. For a moment Lannon stood gazing down at Vanaxe's body, hating the brutal outcome of the conflict. With Vanaxe thoroughly corrupted by Tharnin and having become inhuman in his evil, there had been no chance for a peaceful ending to the encounter. But Lannon had no time to ponder such things, and so he drew his throwing star back to his hand and tucked it away in its pouch. It was time to search for Taris and the others. Lannon seized Dallsa and turned her away from the scene. He scanned the mansion with the Eye, searching for Taris or the other Knights. He glimpsed something below--a distant trace of Divine Knights. He also glimpsed two guards who, after hearing the sounds of battle, were racing up the stairs. "Stay behind me," Lannon told her. "We're going below." Dallsa nodded, too stunned to speak. Lannon and Dallsa started down the stairs, but they were met by the two guards with drawn swords, who demanded they surrender. Lannon knew these guards might be innocent--having no knowledge that the City Lord had been corrupted by Tharnin. He didn't want to harm them, but he had little choice. Lannon struck one of them in the forehead with his sword hilt, knocking him unconscious. The guard started to roll down the long flight of stairs, but Lannon

snagged his tunic and stopped him. The other guard struck while Lannon was leaning down, swinging at his neck. Lannon deflected the sword stroke and then kicked the guard in the leg--a fighting technique unique to Blue Knights-breaking the bone. Groaning in pain, the guard lay down on the stairs, writhing about and clutching his fractured thigh. His fight was ended. Lannon and Dallsa journeyed below the mansion, taking stairs that led them down into a stone tunnel. At the tunnel's end was a locked iron door, which Lannon easily opened with his lock picks in order to save his energy. They entered another tunnel--this one lined with cells on either side. The cells contained the Dark Knights Lannon had seen with the Eye of Dreams--the Ten Axes of Dremlock. The hallway also contained three more guards, who demanded Lannon throw down his sword. When he refused, they rushed him, as Dallsa stayed behind him. Lannon dispatched them as he'd dispatched the others--with knockout blows to the head for two of them and a bone-breaking kick to the leg for the remaining one. They were alive but unable to fight--though Lannon knew from his training that a blow to head was always a dangerous move that could prove fatal. It couldn't be helped, however. Innocent or not, the guards were getting in his way and had to be dealt with. There was far too much at stake to waste time trying to reason with them. Lannon unlocked a cell and dragged the guards into it, sealing the door. Then he freed Dremlock's Dark Knights, who glanced at him with amazement as they located their weapons, armor, and other gear. They quickly suited up for battle. Dallsa looked shocked, her mouth hanging partially open. She leaned close to him and whispered, "Lannon, I think we're getting ourselves in deep trouble. You cut off the City Lord's head, and that can't be good! Now I'm really thinking I should have stayed in Rogue Haven. The whole city is going to be looking for us and...well...this is all a huge surprise to me." Lannon shrugged and whispered back, "Not much we can do about it. The City Lord tried to kill me and I was forced to defend myself. And you wanted to come here, knowing the risks. This is how Knightly business goes, Dallsa. Anything can happen. Be prepared for more surprises." She shook her head, wiping sweat from her brow. She glanced at the Dark

Knights, shuddered, and then whispered, "I'm not sure I can handle any more surprises. This is just...unbelievable." "Why are we whispering?" asked Lannon, truly puzzled. Dallsa groaned. "I don't know, but I'm not sure I want to be Knight anymore. Not sure at all." "You'll be fine," said Lannon. "It just takes getting used to." Valedos Firehelm, the leader of the Ten Axes, nodded to Lannon. He held a black, horned helm in one meaty hand and a huge battle axe in the other. "We appreciate this greatly," he said. "And who might you be, by the way?" Considering they spent all their time in the tunnels below Dremlock, the Dark Knights didn't recognize Lannon. He scanned Valedos and the others with the Eye, searching for traces of Tharnin. Finding none, he replied, "Lannon Sunshield. So how did you end up in this dungeon?" "Good, the Bearer of the Eye," said Valedos. "We're in excellent company, then. We were on the way to Taris' battalion, when our camp was ambushed just outside of Kalamede in the dead of night by a bunch of City Guardsmen. They caught us after we'd consumed a bit too much ale and we were forced to surrender. They brought us here in a wagon and imprisoned us. Vanaxe, the City Lord, questioned us extensively but wouldn't release us. I swear he is a puppet of Tharnin!" "He's dead," said Lannon. "Good riddance," growled Valedos, to grunts of affirmation from the others. "I only wish I could have killed him myself." Lannon quickly explained everything that was going on and why he needed to find Taris, while the Ten Axes exchanged frowns and muttered curses. "So Bellis is ready to move," said Valedos. "Perhaps we should ride to Silvergate and send a message to Dremlock by Elder Hawk. Dremlock needs to be warned immediately to prepare for invasion." "I disagree," said Lannon. "I think the White Flamestone is what matters now. It

needs to return to Dremlock right away." Valedos stroked the braids in his beard--the death knot--in contemplation. He was truly a fearsome looking Grey Dwarf, with the black runes of doom tattooed on his forehead and his bulky armor and weapons. He was a born leader who wasn't used to taking orders. He gazed at Lannon with a look that was meant to intimidate the much smaller Knight. "No," said Valedos, "we're going to Silvergate. I think it's best." Lannon stood in silence for a moment. He hadn't been expecting this response, considering he'd just freed Valedos and his Dark Knights. Valedos pushed past him, motioning to the others. "Come with us if you like, Lannon, or stay and search for Taris. However, we may have to fight our way out the city and we could use your help." Lannon scratched his head. "Actually, I think you should come with me. We need to stick together and find Taris." Valedos paused and turned, his smoldering gaze on Lannon. "Your suggestion is noted, but I'm going to take a on it." "Well, I guess this is an order," said Lannon, hating to have to go there. Valedos' eyes widened. "An order, you say?" Lannon nodded. "I am a member of the Divine Shield, which does put me in a position of authority." Actually, he wasn't sure he had any say over these particular Knights, but he thought he'd give it a try. "Authority over Dark Knights?" said Valedos. "I've never heard of that. We serve Dremlock by the will of our king. It would be wise for you to keep that in mind, young warrior. At Dremlock, we obey the Lord Knight and his Tower Masters and no one else. I don't recognize your authority." Noises came from above--shouts and the clanking of armor. Soon they would be forced to fight, but Lannon wasn't about to give in. "What about the authority of a Dark Watchman?" said Lannon, taking a gamble.

He had no idea how they would respond. "A Dark Watchman?" said Dallsa, looking more stunned than ever. "No wonder you can fight like that! I should have guessed it." Valedos frowned. "The Dark Watchmen were a menace to Silverland. Everyone knows that. I wouldn't be too proud to call myself one of them if I were you, Lannon, considering their grim history." "Nevertheless," said Lannon, "I am one of them. The Divine Essence blessed me with the power I have in the hope that I will use it wisely. Do you recognize my authority or not? Will you ignore my need for assistance?" Valedos hesitated, scowling. At last he said, "Very well, we will agree to it out of respect for Dremlock and the Divine Essence. But the burden of this move is on you. If it turns out to be a disaster, let the Ten Axes not be tainted." "You won't be," Lannon assured him. "I will take all the blame if things go badly. The High Council will accept my judgment." Lannon wasn't totally sure of that last statement, but he was learning that he had to show confidence in his decisions if he wanted to be taken seriously. Valedos donned his horned helm and then motioned Lannon along, his eyes blazing with Dwarven battle lust. "Lead the way to the sewers, then. But know this, lad--we're not content to break bones or knock a few guards unconscious." He sneered at the guards in the cell. "That's not how we fight. Besides, these guards are probably puppets of Tharnin. We'll crush any that get in our way!" The ten Dark Knights--a wedge of heavy armor and broad shields that looked invincible--raised their axes in enthusiastic agreement concerning the crushing of their foes. And Lannon believed they just might be invincible, as long as the ale flask was out of reach. *** The journey to the sewers wasn't easy, as they faced more Guardsmen along the way and had trouble finding an entrance. They feared the whole city would end up pursuing them, after they were forced to cut down some of the Guardsmen in the street in front of a number of witnesses. As promised, the Dwarves showed no mercy on their foes, leaving dead bodies in their wake. Lannon was

displeased with the violence, knowing the Guardsmen might have families who would despair over their deaths, but he'd begun to suspect that Kalamede was thoroughly corrupt. The Guardsmen seemed like hardened thugs beneath their uniforms who had been hired to deal out harsh justice without asking many questions. Regardless, Lannon had no control over these Ten Axes who sneered at authority. At last they located an iron hatch and climbed down into the sewers, closing the lid behind them. They were left in darkness--though Lannon could see with the Eye of Divinity. "Do you have torches?" he asked. "We do," said one of the Ten, whose name was Uldrun Stonecrusher. "But we won't light them down here." "There is a risk of explosion," Valedos explained. "Haven't you heard the story of what happened in Silvergate? The sewers exploded and killed a large number of workers, including Kavlod Longship of the Olrogs, the greatest architect in Silverland who also designed these Kalamede sewers. He was killed by his own creation--and the torch of a clumsy fool." "I hadn't heard that tale," said Lannon. "Well, follow along behind me then. I will use the Eye to guide us." "We don't need the Eye," said Valedos. "We have excellent vision in the dark places. I'm not proud to say that it's a leftover skill from our dealings with the Deep Shadow, if you didn't know that. It's not perfect, mind you. We prefer torches or lanterns, but when we lack them, we can still make our way." Lannon knew the Grey Dwarves harbored many strange abilities from the days when they were servants of Tharnin, so he wasn't surprised that they could get by in dark tunnels without torchlight. "I need a torch!" said Dallsa, glancing about and shuddering. Lannon shrugged helplessly. "Just stay close to me, Dallsa." He groaned inwardly at the thought of having to protect her down in these sewers, but he didn't dare leave her on the surface when the whole city seemed corrupt. Valedos stepped ahead of Lannon. "Let us lead the way, boy. Yes, you have the mighty Eye, which is a great tool worthy of respect. But you're not a Dwarf and

you don't know much about tunnels. Can your precious Eye tell you where every pitfall lurks? Can it sense danger in the very stone around you?" "It can tell me a lot," said Lannon, "but if you want to lead, that's fine." He didn't feel like arguing with a pack of stubborn Dwarves. The Ten Axes pushed past him and started through the maze. "Watch out!" Lannon warned, catching a glimpse of snakes up ahead. The water was churning with them, and some had slithered onto the walkway. The snakes were hunting rats and grew angry when disturbed. But the Dwarves were already in motion, hacking and stomping the poisonous creatures into ruin. Meanwhile, a deformed rat tried to crawl up Lannon's boot and he kicked it away in disgust. The rat hobbled away unharmed, a diseased and bloated creature that was dragging an extra leg along. Lannon shuddered, his flesh crawling at the sights around him. These sewers made the dark mines below Dremlock seem appealing. Dallsa clung to him with a grip so fierce it caused him to wince. As a large centipede scuttled across the walkway by her foot, she started to scream--but Lannon clamped his hand over her mouth until she calmed down a bit. He understood Dallsa's terror. He'd felt it too when he was relatively new at Dremlock and had ventured into the wretched mines below the kingdom, and he couldn't fault her for it. She wasn't even a trained Squire yet and she was doing the best she could. They wandered around for what seemed like hours, gagging on the stench. At last they came to a dreary tunnel--lit by torches in iron holders on the walls. Midway through the tunnel was a hideous entrance shaped like the grinning mouth of a demon with two great, curved fangs and a tongue rolled out to greet them. A crimson torch burned in each eye socket. The power of the Deep Shadow squeezed Lannon in its grasp. He took a step back and almost went down on one knee, his will and strength faltering momentarily. Suddenly, Lannon was struck by a powerful memory. He ed standing before this very entrance (perhaps in the Eye of Dreams) and feeling exactly the same way--as if he would fall to one knee. The memory was so powerful it left him in a daze. But when had it occurred? Try as he might, he couldn't .

"Are you okay, lad?" asked Valedos. "You look pale." "I feel like I've seen this before," said Lannon. "I...just can't recall how or where. It's like something from a dream, Valedos." The Dwarf frowned. "A dream? Dreams are sometimes useful. I do sense the power of Tharnin here--very strongly, like in some areas of the mines. The darkness in there is very heavy, and my gaze cannot pierce it. Unless you think there's a chance Taris and the others are lurking in there, I suggest we avoid it." Dallsa pointed at the blazing torches. "Those aren't causing anything to explode, obviously. Does this mean I had to walk in darkness for nothing, surrounded by snakes, bugs, and rats?" Valedos shrugged. "Could be just a safe area. I don't know. But we're leaving those torches right where they are, so don't get any ideas." Dallsa sighed. "Can't I take just one of them?" Lannon searched for signs of the other Knights, but he found no trace of them in the tunnel. It didn't necessarily mean they hadn't been there, however, as there were forces that could cloud the Eye's gaze. Lannon then sought to peer beyond the entrance, but the power of Tharnin seemed to repel him. "I can't see anything either," he said, "but I think we need to search there." He wasn't sure why he was advocating going into the grim entrance--as his fears screamed at him to get away from it and he had no evidence that Taris or the others had even ed this way--but he felt that some great secret must lie beyond the doorway that needed to be revealed. "Lannon," said Dallsa, pointing, "there is something horrible about that doorway--aside from how ugly it is. And it is quite ugly! Anyway, I feel dark sorcery like I've never felt before--like it wants to crush me." Lannon nodded. "I feel it too. But I still want to go through." Valedos sighed and discussed it with the Dwarves. Then he nodded. "Alright, once again we'll agree to your plan. But I strongly suggest you stay behind us, as we're expecting battle."

"I can defend myself if needed," said Lannon, feeling a bit insulted. Obviously these Dark Knights weren't very familiar with his reputation. "Lannon is a great fighter," said Dallsa, pushing a lock of dark hair from her eyes. "I've seen him in combat more than once, and he is amazing." "Thank you," Lannon mumbled, grateful for the . Valedos looked him up and down. "I'm sure you can fight, boy, but you seem best at kicking people in the legs or knocking them out. That type of stuff won't work against the creatures of Tharnin." "I've fought Goblins many times," said Lannon. But Valedos didn't seem convinced. "Don't worry, we'll do all the fighting that is needed. You just hold back and help when you can. Put that Eye of yours to good use and watch for tricks or traps. Let us take care of our foes." "Fine," Lannon muttered, sensing he couldn't reason with Valedos. "I'll guard the rear then. I guess someone has to." "Lannon should be at the front!" said Dallsa, to the mighty Dwarf. "Are you kidding me? Listen, this fellow is no ordinary Knight. Don't you know anything about the Dark Watchmen?" Valedos ignored her, a look of contempt on his face. "Oh really?" she said, glaring at Valedos. "So my opinion isn't worth a comment?" "Not to me," said Valedos, waving at her dismissively. Then he gazed at her as if seeing her for the first time. "Who are you, anyway?" She hesitated, then said, "A White Knight." She cleared her throat. "Well, that's what I plan to be if things go my way." "Good, we need a healer," Valedos grunted. "Things might get bloody down here." She lowered her gaze. "I'm not a trained healer yet, actually. I'm hoping Lannon

will put in a good word for me, though." Valedos had taken to ignoring her again, as he examined the entrance. "Regardless," she went on, "Lannon should lead the way. I'll bet he is the most skilled fighter in this group, even if he isn't the strongest." When Valedos continued to ignore her, she added, "Hello? Can you hear me?" "It's okay, Dallsa," said Lannon. "I'm fine with guarding the rear." "Yes, you guard the rear," said Uldrun Stonecrusher, giving Lannon an amused wink. "That's what sorcerers are best at. Throw some fireballs or something-carefully, mind you, so you don't hit one of us--but don't let that fancy sword get in our way." "I don't fight like that," Lannon tried to explain. He sought to stand a bit taller-though he was already taller than the Dwarves. "I usually fight with my blade and not like a sorcerer. I'm actually a fully trained Blue Knight." "Fully trained," Dallsa echoed. "Believe it." Valedos shook his head in amusement. "Why is a sorcerer trained as a Blue Knight? Makes no sense, if you ask me. I'll bet you're somewhat lacking in skill for your color class. Am I right? Sure, maybe you can pick a lock or two, but I'll bet when it comes down to it, you go back to doing stuff as a sorcerer would." Lannon said nothing, knowing Valedos spoke true. He wasn't as capable as most Blue Knights, due to his weak Knightly Essence--but he wasn't the worst of the lot; and the Eye of Divinity more than made up for his lack of talent. But there was no point in trying to explain all that to these elite Olrog warriors. They had already decided that Lannon was just another spell caster who might get in the way of real fighters, and his words would only fall on deaf ears. They stepped into the demonic-looking jaws and found themselves in a short tunnel. The presence of the Deep Shadow was repulsive. The Dwarves handled it better than Lannon. He desperately wanted to exit the tunnel, as the dark sorcery seemed to rub against his flesh like cold serpent skin, but he shored up his will and followed along behind the others. He practically had to drag Dallsa along behind him, as the foul sorcery nearly drove her into a panic.

They stepped through into a large torch-lit chamber--a temple. Just how long this temple had existed in the sewers below Kalamede, Lannon and the Dwarves didn't know--but the moldy stone blocks looked ancient. At the center of the circular room was a towering iron statue of some Tharnin deity--a four-armed, reptilian giant wearing bulky armor and holding a spear. Beneath the giant's horned helm was a scaly lizard-like face that glared down at the intruders. Behind the statue was a bloodstained altar made of iron pieces fitted together and engraved with bone-shaped images and runes. Straw mats lay on the floor with folded blankets, and barrels of food and drink stood in the covers. The temple was also a well-stocked home, and some of the occupants of that home were there to greet them--fifteen Ironheart Priests--with maces and bags of snakes held ready for combat. "Stay behind me," Lannon said to Dallsa. "This is going to get ugly." Dallsa pressed against him, breathing anxiously. As the cultists charged, their evil eyes gleaming beneath their dark hoods, the Olrogs ran forward to meet them. Axes clattered against maces and lodged into orange flesh, and the cultists were pushed back by Dwarven fury. But the Priests fought back viciously, and one of the Ten Axes went down after taking a solid blow to the head. The other Dwarves tried to protect him, but the cultists swarmed on him, raining more blows down on his skull. Even a stout Olrog could not withstand such a brutal assault. Driven berserk over their fallen brother, the other Dark Knights struck back with mighty blows that nearly cleaved some of the cultists in two. Lannon ed in on the action, his Dragon sword lashing out to cut down one of the bizarre creatures that was charging at him. He seized another with the Eye and then ran him through--then glanced behind him to make sure Dallsa was okay. Snakes were flying everywhere, and another Dwarf went down from a bite, his eyes rolling back in his head. Lannon seized some of the snakes with his power and crushed them or flung them away from his companions, giving the Dwarves a chance to focus on the cultists. The Ironheart Priests were immensely strong and quick--but no match for the Dark Knights. The huge battle axes rose and fell, leaving brutal carnage in their wake. Soon the fight was over. It had been a brief yet vicious battle.

The Dark Knights mourned the fallen Dwarf--who was still breathing but had little chance of recovery even if they managed to get him to a healer. He'd simply taken too many stout blows to the head, and now only his massive constitution was keeping him alive. Dallsa knelt by him and checked his wounds, a sad expression on her face. "I wish I could help him," she said. She closed her eyes and prayed aloud to the Divine Essence that his spirit would find peace, as the others stood with eyes closed and heads bowed. Moments later, he ed on. The Dwarf who had been poisoned still had a chance to recover, however, though he wasn't doing very well. He coughed, gagged, and clutched at his throat, as the Venom sought to overcome him. A Norack or Birlote would have already been dead, but the Dwarf fought on in misery. Dallsa laid hands on him and prayed. "I hope we slew all of them!" growled Valedos. After he calmed down a bit, he said to Lannon, "You fought well, boy. If not for you, there might be more of us lying around poisoned. I'm impressed." "Thank you," said Lannon. Coming from an elite Olrog Knight, the compliment meant a lot to him. "We're not the Ten Axes anymore," said Valedos, to the other eight Dwarves. "We were together for a long time, and we killed many Goblins in the mines. It is a shame, but all things must end." "You could be the Nine Axes," said Dallsa. "Well, if this other one recovers from the poison. That's still a lot of axes." Valedos' face darkened and he fixed his gaze on her. "Dallsa," Lannon whispered to her, "you're not helping the situation." But Valedos' broad face broke into a grin. "The Nine Axes, you say? Why not! There is still plenty of battle to wage before all is said and done." "We still need to find Taris," said Lannon, impatience gnawing at him as he thought of Bellis drawing ever closer to Dremlock.

*** When Aldreya awoke, she found that Jace had somehow managed to rise again and had smashed apart the stone barrier. Blood dripped from his knuckles, and he looked exhausted. The toxic vapor had diminished, but it was still potent enough to threaten to smother Aldreya into unconsciousness again. She summoned her sorcery and this time managed to fight off the effects, rising unsteadily to her feet. Taris and Vorden were also standing, but the others remained unconscious. It didn't surprise Aldreya that three sorcerers (and Vorden, who also had significant use of sorcery) were able to resist the effects of the vapor more easily than the others, though she wondered why Trenton was still sound asleep on the floor. Trenton seemed like a feeble sorcerer in some ways--and not much better as a warrior. And yet he possessed abilities that were inconceivable to her. Jace, Taris, and Vorden were standing before the shattered slab. Aldreya ed them. "Now what?" she asked. "Now we defend the fallen," said Taris, peering into the shadowy tunnel, "until they awaken. Expect an attack at any moment." Jace wiped his bloody knuckles on his cloak. "I wonder what they're waiting for. Surely they realize by now that their plan has failed." "It didn't fail entirely," said Vorden, "as only four of us are left standing." He paced about impatiently in his dark, bulky armor, his yellow eyes gleaming inside his helm. "Maybe the cowards are afraid to deal with us." "Calm yourself," said Aldreya, sensing a strange mood within Vorden. He seemed agitated--perhaps even enraged. "I'm calm enough," Vorden said, pausing to lean on his sword. "But I'm also angry that these wretches would resort to using toxic smoke to weaken us. Sneaky cowards afraid of fair combat." Jace chuckled. "Fair combat is not a concern of the Ironheart Priests. They live only to serve Tharnin, and whatever accomplishes that goal is fair enough to

them. These foes have no honor whatsoever and are exempt from Tharnin law. They are very much like common Goblins or other creatures of the Deep Shadow spawned in this world. They are free to be as evil and wretched as they choose." Vorden clenched his hand into a fist. He no longer wore the Hand of Tharnin, but he was still an imposing figure in his black-and-gold armor. "Then they should die like Goblins, down to the last filthy one!" "Are you okay?" Aldreya asked, wondering if the Deep Shadow was still influencing Vorden a bit. It didn't seem likely, considering how much faith Taris had in the Squire, but she couldn't help but wonder. Vorden looked away. "I'm fine. Just a bit angry. I don't like sneak attacks of any kind. I...lost my arm to one. And even though I know it was fair and just, and I'm glad Lannon did it, it still troubles me." "I understand," said Aldreya. She patted his arm. "At least you had it reattached and it works fine--and you're free of that evil gauntlet." "Lannon did me a great favor," Vorden acknowledged, "but I'm still enraged over these cultists using that vapor on us. It also reminds me of what happened below Dorok's Hand--when my Legion fighters used that same vapor on the Divine Knights. It's such a disgraceful way of fighting." "Control your temper," said Taris, "or it will make you reckless in battle. You're a Norack, Vorden, and not cut out to fight like a Grey Dwarf." "I will heed your words, Master Taris," said Vorden. "Exactly," said Jace. "Always stay calm in a fight. That's what I do." "Are you sure, Uncle Jace?" asked Aldreya, not quite believing him. "Of course," Jace insisted. "I am the pinnacle of self control." "Except when it comes to eating," said Aldreya, with a grin. "You have the appetite of a Grey Dwarf." Jace shrugged, then patted his belly. "It matters not. I'm too active to gain

weight. Bring on the bread loaves and rice pudding!" "You sleep half the day," Aldreya pointed out, "whenever you can get away with it." "Nonsense," Jace muttered. "It's called meditation, and I'm still quite active the rest of the time." "You must snore when you meditate," said Aldreya. "Everyone in camp can hear you!" "The Priests are coming," Jace said casually, nodding toward the darkness of the tunnel (and perhaps feeling grateful for a change of subject). "There are at least a dozen. Prepare." Defending the fallen wasn't easy. Powerful sorcerers or not, there were only four of them--against fourteen priests armed with iron clubs, poisonous serpents, steel crossbows that fired burning arrows, and foul sorcery that caused confusion. Jace took a flaming arrow to the shoulder that ignited part of his cloak for an instant, and Vorden, overcome by evil sorcery, mistook Aldreya for a foe and nearly cut off her head. Only her quick Birlote reflexes allowed her to duck the blow. After tearing the arrow from his charred shoulder, Jace seemed to grow enraged (in contrast to his statement only moments before), lashing out with his fists in all directions. Two cultists went down and never rose again, but one blow accidentally glanced off Vorden's helm, staggering the Squire. Groaning, Vorden seemed to lose the will to fight, wandering around in a daze. "Sorry!" Jace said to Vorden, as his rage slipped away and left him looking sheepish. "It appears fire is safe here!" Taris muttered. His stone dagger erupted into flames and deflected a burning arrow that was headed for his face. Delighted that she could use her sorcery freely, Aldreya hurled what she considered to be a perfect fireball at a Priest, but he batted it aside with his iron club. Before she could hurl another, he leapt on her and took her to the ground. She gagged on his foul breath and sought to shove him off, but his strength was immense. He dropped his club and his hands found her throat, choking her viciously.

In a panic, Aldreya drove her burning dagger into his side. The cultist howled in pain and rose, clutching at the smoking wound. He glowered down at her with hatred, sweat pouring from his orange, warty skin--even as Vorden regained his senses, turned, and beheaded the cultist from behind. Aldreya sprang to her feet, grateful that Vorden was watching out for her. It seemed somewhat surreal that the former Black Knight of the Blood Legion now fought on her side. How had things changed so dramatically? But Vorden again seemed to lose the will to fight, and he sheathed his sword. He leaned against the tunnel wall, breathing hard, his head bowed. "What's wrong?" Aldreya shouted at him. But he didn't answer, and she was forced to defend herself again. With Vorden out of the action, the battle was prolonged a bit, but the Priests were still no match for the three remaining sorcerers. Jace and Taris seemed unstoppable as they attacked their foes--two ancient and powerful sorcerers with skills virtually unmatched outside of Borenthia. Meanwhile, Aldreya helped out when she could. Her own skills had improved dramatically since she'd become Taris' apprentice, and two Priests met at their doom from her fireballs. After the last cultist had fallen, they turned their attention to Vorden. The Squire had removed his helm, and his face was pale and appeared anguished. He waved them away, but they refused to move. "What's wrong?" Taris asked. The Birlote sorcerer was having his own issues from too much exertion--his old injuries causing him pain that gave him labored breathing. He kept himself composed, yet Aldreya could sense the burning agony inside him. She was unable to fathom how he withstood it so calmly. "I'm fine," said Vorden. "Are the others okay?" "They should awaken," said Jace. "We just have to give them time. I must again apologize for striking you. I temporarily lost my wits." Vorden shrugged. "Think nothing of it." "Yet something else troubles you, Vorden," said Taris.

Vorden hesitated, then nodded. "I don't know what it is. For one thing, I nearly beheaded Aldreya, and I'm not too happy about that. But...I also feel like I don't have a right to be doing this. I'm ashamed of myself." "You have every right," said Taris. "You're a Divine Squire of Dremlock, who is on the path to Knighthood." "Yet I was granted my abilities by evil," said Vorden. "Thus, I don't deserve them. It feels wrong, but I can't turn back the clock. I'm stuck with who I am, and I hate it. I wonder if I should even be here." Jace smiled and took out his pipe. "Ah, I've seen this before. Someone gains power from the Deep Shadow but later breaks free of Tharnin's hold. However, the power remains. Rest assured, Vorden, you will likely find yourself using it. One seldom neglects to use power when the situation grows desperate. If fact, I've seen retired sorcerers go back to using magic to cure a simple toothache-even after swearing an oath never to practice the mystical arts again." Taris sneered. "They broke their oath over a toothache?" Jace nodded. "I've seen it happen on two occasions." "That's rather pathetic," said Aldreya. Jace shrugged. "A toothache is nothing to fool with." Taris shook his head in amusement. "I don't want to use my power--ever," said Vorden. "I want to start over and be the man I was--just a normal warrior. I was talented and could have become a great Knight. At least, that's what everyone tells me. I don't want to earn Knighthood because I'm some freak of Tharnin." "Yet as you said," Taris reminded him, "you can't turn back the clock. You are what you are, my young friend. You must make the most of it." "I hate that kind of wisdom," said Vorden, groaning. "I don't want to accept who I am, because it's not fair. Why should people have to accept it when their lives turn out far differently than what they had hoped for?"

"You have a valid point," said Jace. "When something is unfair, it is incredibly annoying. But there is a simple answer. The answer is that you keep on fighting. Never give up, even to your last pathetic breath." "I don't know," said Vorden. "I've always heard it was better to accept what you can't change--and maybe that's true. Maybe I should give up on Knighthood-accept the fact that my dream is finished. Maybe I'll feel better if I do." "No," said Taris. "Jace's answer holds a bit of truth. I believe there is a way to accomplish almost anything in this world. For example, I will never stop trying to overcome my injuries and my pain, because I know it can be done. Many would tell me it is impossible, but it is not. I was close to death recently, but I never stopped seeking an answer within myself. Had I died, I would have died struggling to find a cure. Some are not cut out to simply give up and accept things. I am one of those people. I think you are the same way--a born fighter." "I never give up on anything," said Jace, a twinkle in his eye. "Not even the dead." Aldreya shivered, wondering what he meant. Sometimes Uncle Jace seemed creepy even for a sorcerer, though she loved to hear him talk. "What's that supposed to mean?" said Vorden. "That's crazy." "Don't call me crazy," said Jace, "simply because you don't understand me. In my mind, I always hold out hope that things will be resolved for the better. The alternative is to it defeat. But how can you it defeat when the universe itself hasn't given up? Only a fool believes that anything of this world is set in stone, my very young friend." He tapped his chest. "Yet always that in here exists immortality and hope unchanging." "And three loaves of bread," said Aldreya, in reference to their earlier dinner at the City Lord's mansion. She poked him in the stomach. Vorden sighed. "I don't understand all of that. It just sounds crazy to me. If I may speak freely, you sorcerers are a strange lot. You don't see the world like...well, like anyone normal would." "I detest normal," said Jace, blowing a feeble smoke ring. He grinned broadly. "I like to go places that make others tremble, where the timid would never dare

look--let alone venture! While others hide away in the safe and comfortable, I search for the deepest answers that might disrupt the very fate of our world! What a lovely way to live! Ha!" He sighed deeply as if relishing the moment and ran his fingers through his curly hair, causing that hair to stick up afterward. He looked insane. Vorden turned away, as if he wanted no part of Jace's words. Taris smiled. "Overly dramatic speech, yes--but Jace once again has a point. Don't be afraid of who you are, Vorden. Don't be afraid to search for answers and to use your abilities for the good of humanity." Aldreya kicked Jace in the leg. "Uncle Jace, your hair is sticking up. You look like a gigantic drowned sewer rat. And a crazy one at that." With a shrug, Jace blew pipe smoke at her. "Get a whiff of that, my dear. The finest Norack tobacco money can buy." He leaned close to her, until his long nose was almost touching her forehead. "Oh, maybe Uncle Jace isn't so crazy after all, because he knows good leaf when he smells it and can block out the stink of humanity's creations with a mere puff of smoke. If that isn't the definition of a Wizard, then I don't know what is." She sniffed at it, then coughed. "I think I prefer the smell of the sewers, come to think of it." "Ah, you silly girl," he said, straightening up. She kicked him in the leg again. "Put that pipe away, before you blow us all into pieces. You'll forget and carry it out of this tunnel." Jace raised his eyebrows, then extinguished the pipe and shoved it in his pocket. "Unfortunately, you're right. You know me all too well." "Our work is finished here," said Taris. "The City Guardsmen were plotting against us--which means that Vanaxe may be our enemy as well. As soon as the others awaken, we shall leave these sewers and make for Dremlock. We may have to fight our way out of Kalamede." "Yes, unfortunately," said Jace. "So much violence lately. Quite a pity."

"A prelude to war," said Taris.

Chapter 15: The Ironheart Priests

As Lannon and the others searched the temple, they encountered one more Priest who was hiding behind the statue of the deity. He stepped forth calmly to greet them. He carried no weapon, and his orange face was peaceful beneath the hood of his cloak. He regarded them fearlessly. Snarling, the Dwarves moved in to cut him down, but Lannon ordered them to halt. They turned toward him, glaring. "He poses no threat," said Lannon, scanning the Priest with the Eye. "Perhaps we can learn something from him." Valedos motioned toward the two fallen Dwarves. "I'd rather avenge my brothers, Lannon. This filthy wretch will speak nothing but lies." "I have no lies to tell," said the Priest. His voice was deep and calm--inhuman in its perfection. "You came to my temple seeking answers. I will be more than happy to provide them in exchange for my life and freedom." Valedos and the other Dwarves laughed. "Agreed," said Lannon. "If you answer my questions, you can go free." "Now hold on a moment!" growled Valedos. "We came here for answers," Lannon reminded him, "and not just to clean out this cult. This is a golden opportunity." Valedos scowled. "Lad, you are exceeding your authority." "We need to find Taris," said Lannon. "This Priest might know where he is. With Dremlock's future at stake, we need to question him." The Dark Knight glared at Lannon, but nodded. "Although it pains me greatly to let him live, I will agree to it for Dremlock's sake."

"Thank you," said Lannon, relieved. He turned to the cultist again. "Have you seen any other Divine Knights lurking about in these tunnels?" "Do you mean Taris Warhawk and his battalion?" said the Priest. "They have likely fallen victim to a trap by now, in another area of the sewers." "Where, exactly?" asked Lannon. The Priest shrugged. "I wasn't informed. There are many trapped areas down here." "This is a waste of time," said Valedos. "I would rather see his head roll." "Why did you come to Kalamede?" asked Lannon. "We have always been here," said the Priest. "The sewers were built around us. We have four temples in Silverland, and this is one of them. We made a pact with the City Lord long ago that allows us to live in peace." "But you don't live in peace," said Lannon. "You have been terrorizing the city and abducting people." "That is a lie," said the Priest. "We are simply defending our sacred temple. We were told the Divine Knights would come to destroy us, which is why we attacked you." It suddenly made sense to Lannon. "Then Vanaxe lied to us, in order to use you to destroy Taris and his warriors." The Priest stood silent. "How do you know he speaks the truth, Lannon?" asked Valedos. "The wretch could simply be lying to save his skin." "I sense it with the Eye," said Lannon. "He seems to be telling the truth, though I must it he is hiding something important." Lannon searched deeper but was unable to discover what the Priest was concealing. "What are you hiding?" demanded Valedos, glowering at the Priest.

"Many things," said the Priest. "Regardless, this fight could have been avoided. Now many lie dead. It deeply saddens me. It appears you were tricked into this conflict. To make amends, I will cure the poisoned Knight." He fixed his black eyes on Valedos. "Will you permit me to help him?" Valedos scowled. "If this is a trick..." "I offer no deception," said the Priest. He got a flask of liquid and poured some in the fallen Dwarf's mouth, forcing him to swallow. "It is done. He should recover in time, though his belly will hurt for days." "We greatly appreciate this," said Lannon. "And we're sorry for all the bloodshed. We offer peace, if the Ironheart Priests will accept it." "I am the High Priest of our order in Kalamede," said the cultist. "My word holds much sway. Because I believe in the way of peace, I will form a pact with the Divine Knights of Dremlock--that we bring each other no harm." "Agreed," said Lannon, glancing at Valedos. The Dwarf nodded. "Since it appears that we were all manipulated, I will agree to this pact. The one who caused this--Vanaxe the Snake--is dead. Let us not continue the bloodshed in that coward's name." "Come, my friends," said the High Priest. "As a show of faith, I will allow you to gaze upon our most precious relics. Then you will know my word is good. After that, you may depart freely and leave us to grieve the fallen. One of my brothers will help you search for Taris Warhawk." The temple contained a hidden door, leading to several chambers filled with cultists who guarded their most sacred treasures by candlelight. Among many strange items on display was an ugly, spiked battle axe that glowed with the crimson fires of Tharnin that could burn through steel, a hideous iron mask that supposedly made the wearer invincible, a crossbow that fired arrows that could willingly seek out a target, a hammer that was said to crush foes from a distance or shatter boulders, a great horn that could deafen and confuse an army, and a steam-powered shovel on wheels that could dig faster than twenty men. The Dwarves were astonished by this treasure trove. "Why didn't you use these items against us?" they wondered. Like all Dwarves, they loved weapons and

tools and could not conceive of locking them away unused. Also, the items were forged by the Olrogs in ancient times when they were servants of the Deep Shadow. Even though the items were cursed and forbidden, Valedos and his warriors gazed at them with wonder and desire. "We are unworthy of them," said the High Priest. "We keep them for others to wield. I will speak no more of that topic." It was a sad day for the Ironheart Priests, as many had fallen in battle defending their home. The bodies had to be prepared for a burial that would take place outside of Kalamede at a sacred site in the hills. But these creatures--servants of evil though they were--had strong faith that the souls of the dead would live on peacefully in another realm. Lannon wasn't fond of having dealings with creatures of Tharnin, but with Bellis on the move, there was no time to fully resolve the situation. It appeared the cultists only wished to be left alone to practice their dark religion, and as a Divine Knight it was his duty to let the peaceful live as they would. If it turned out that the High Priest was lying and that his cult actually had malicious intent, Dremlock's forces could return later to deal with the situation. If there was a later, Lannon thought. If Bellis hadn't conquered Dremlock and absorbed its resources. *** With the help of one of the Priests, it didn't take long for Lannon and the Dwarves to locate Taris and the others. The Priest led them to all the most likely places, and at last the two parties came face to face in a tunnel. Then the cultist slipped away through the maze of ageways and left them alone. Lannon was greeted warmly and with delight. Meanwhile, the healers set to work on the poisoned Dwarf, who seemed to be stable enough. "At last!" said Prince Vannas. "The hope of Dremlock has returned! And you've brought a few warriors with you." Lannon's smiled. "Glad to be back." Aldreya gave him a warm hug. "I feared you would never return." "It wasn't easy," said Lannon. "I'll tell you about it sometime. I had quite an

adventure." Jerret patted him on the back. "I never doubted you for a second. By the way, who is your friend here?" He fixed his gaze on Dallsa, a twinkle in his eye. "This one is too tall and pretty to be a Dwarf." "Her name is Dallsa," said Lannon, deciding to get the petty stuff out of the way before he revealed the news about Bellis. "She has healing abilities and wants to be a Squire." He gazed at Taris. "I made her a Grey Keeper--if that's allowed." Taris simply nodded to Dallsa. "Welcome, Squire." Her eyes widened. "I'm a Squire? Just like that?" "If Lannon has deemed you worthy," said Taris, "then I see no reason to dispute him. I wish you well on your new path." "Thank you!" said Dallsa, bowing. She beamed. "This is so exciting! I can't wait to send news to my father!" Lannon hadn't expected Taris to accept her so easily--without even testing her. He was delighted that Taris had such confidence in him. Vorden smiled at Lannon, a relieved look on his face. "I am greatly pleased to see you again, old friend. Like Aldreya, I had feared the worst." Jace chuckled. "You young Knights are so dramatic. I think this Dark Watchman can take care of himself." "But what news have you brought us?" asked Taris, searching Lannon's face. The Tower Master seemed to sense Lannon's mood. "Ill news," said Valedos. "If Lannon's Eye can be trusted." "I trust it," said Taris, "with the fate of Dremlock. We have ill news of our own, Lannon. Many of our Knights have fallen. We have encountered much bloodshed since your departure." Lannon revealed all he knew. It was time to leave and send forth the Elder Hawks to warn Dremlock. Yet thanks to the ruse in Kalamede, Bellis had likely

won the race. What would they find when they reached the Firepit Mountains? Lannon imagined the legendary kingdom reduced to smoking rubble, laced with the bones of the dead. *** The Divine Knights were able to escape Kalamede without a fight. The City Guard was not prepared to deal with Taris, Lannon, Prince Vannas, and all of the other powerful warriors who rode with them. The City Council refused to speak to them while the investigation concerning Lord Vanaxe was in progress. And so the Knights were allowed to take their horses, wagons, and goods and leave the city. Some of the Knights had perished or vanished in the sewers, and the size of the battalion was reduced even further--to less than fifty battle-ready warriors. There was no time to search for the dead or the living in the tunnels below, and so the others simply made for Dremlock with heavy hearts. As the Divine Knights rode out, they caught site of a huge army closing in on Kalamede. Golden banners revealed it was a battalion from Bellis--likely on route to secure the city as the invasion of Silverland progressed. They realized how fortunate they had been to escape both the Ironheart Priests and the Knights of Bellis. They had survived the trap, but the damage had been done. Bellis' army was advancing toward Dremlock, and the White Flamestone was far away. "We were fools," said Taris. "We should have rode back to Dremlock long ago. For some reason we thought we could liberate Kalamede and still return in time to fortify our kingdom. I should have known better." "Decisions, decisions," said Jace, with a shrug. "Every decision is a bad one if it doesn't work. Dremlock was not ready to submit to the will of Bellis. Kalamede was too important to ignore. Yet now the truth is revealed--that a real war has begun that is not likely to end after one battle." "There is still hope," said Prince Vannas, "as long as we possess the White Flamestone. I've believed that from the beginning." "Certainly," said Jace. "And the Eye of Divinity, which seems to have been forgotten as of late. But if Bellis conquers Dremlock before we arrive, the situation will become much more difficult." "I agree," said Lannon, nodding to the prince. "We can't give up hope, no matter

what we find in the Firepit Mountains." "Of course not," said Taris, his tone rigid. "No one suggests we should give up, even if we believe we're going to our doom. Nevertheless, I was foolish for journeying to Kalamede and I regret the decision. Nothing is going to change my thoughts on that. Now I must seek to make amends." "Amends will be made," said Prince Vannas, "when we drive Bellis from Silverland." Trenton shook his head. "So confident are you, good prince, even now. But thousands of warriors await us. We are vastly outnumbered, and our resources are tiny compared to Bellis' gigantic hoard. Was there ever a chance for us to win this war? I'm wondering if Dremlock was doomed long ago." "It doesn't matter," said Taris. "We shall serve the will of the Divine Essence and hope for the best. If necessary, we will die as Divine Knights battling against this tyranny. I am at peace with that." Lannon wasn't. He had no intention of dying at Dremlock. He was thinking of King Verlamer, wondering what madness drove him to lay claim to the entire continent. Was it the work of Tharnin, or simply some misguided sense of entitlement? Lannon wanted to speak to the king, to find out what made him who he was. Lannon didn't know if he would ever get close enough to try to reason with him, but it was Lannon's way to hope for an opportunity for peace.

Chapter 16: Invasion

Fadar Stonebow had no idea why he'd been summoned to the Sacred Temple. It was a cool and quiet evening--a fine night for a bit of pipe leaf, a glass of wine, and a book by the fireplace. Yet Fadar's relaxed evening had been rudely interrupted by a messenger insisting the Birlote archer attend a secret meeting. Always alert to the deception of the Deep Shadow, Fadar had donned his lightweight chain armor and grabbed his sword, his bow, and his quiver of arrows. He gulped down his wine and left the West Tower, shivering beneath his fur cloak. He walked by torchlight beneath the thick forest branches. Fadar paused in the clearing before the Temple, the towering statue of Kuran Darkender that stood atop the copper roof visible in the starlight. An image flashed through his mind of the statue torn down and shattered--replaced by the Crest of Bellis Kingdom. Is that what this meeting was about? Was Bellis going on the attack again? And where was Prince Vannas? He smoothed back his curly silver hair and adjusted his cloak, knowing the High Council (or what remained of it) would be found within. Fadar was a highly ranked Knight, just below the level of Green. He was officially the Lord of the Archers at Dremlock, which meant he oversaw most of the recruiting and training of the Birlotes on loan from Borenthia. However, he was seldom called to High Council meetings, and he took this summoning as a sign that Dremlock was running low on leaders. With Cordus Landsaver injured and Barlow Whitesword dead, it was entirely possible that Fadar could be voted onto the High Council--an honor he would eagerly accept. No one greeted him at the Temple door, but he found it unlocked. He paused again and listened for a moment, but he could hear no sounds from within. Feeling suddenly unnerved, he drew his sword and cautiously entered. The assassination attempt on the Lord Knight's life was still fresh in his mind, and he knew anything was possible at Dremlock these days. But once inside, he found only Vesselin Hopebringer and Krissana Windsword, who were seated on the benches. Their faces were grim in the torchlight, and Vesselin looked terribly ancient (though he was actually slightly younger than

Krissana in spite of her appearing young enough to be his granddaughter). "Welcome," said Krissana. "Lock the door, Fadar." He did as requested, then took a seat. Vesselin rubbed his hands together. "The cold night air is hard on my bones, Fadar. For nearly one-hundred and forty years I have walked this land. I believe that old Jace Lancelord is the only living Norack older than myself." Fadar smiled. "Yet you have achieved it without sorcery or the longevity of the Birlotes or Olrogs--which an amazing feat." Vesselin sighed. A grim shadow crept over his face. "Yes, but as you can see, surviving nearly a century and a half by good living alone does not make one age gracefully. I feel old, my friend. I think that perhaps I should have retired decades ago to a remote village to spend my days relaxing. I could have been a healer--a hero--to the locals there, a big fish in a small pond. I dream of that, you know." "It is a good dream," said Fadar. "It may still come to ." Vesselin frowned. "I'm not so sure anymore. I wonder if I will ever leave Dremlock alive." Krissana patted him on the shoulder. "Have faith in the Divine Essence, my friend." "What troubles you?" asked Fadar. "What troubles me," said Vesselin, "is what troubles all of Gallamerth these days--the Kingdom of Bellis. It is coming here, Fadar. We received the message earlier today. Bellis' vast army has entered Silverland and is moving straight toward Dremlock, with over eight-thousand warriors and several massive siege engines. There is no doubt what they are planning--to conquer all of Silverland, including Dremlock." "Yet where is Prince Vannas?" asked Fadar. "Why isn't he here defending us? He wields the ultimate power against our foes."

"A good question," said Krissana. "It appears we put too much faith in our spies-in our belief that Bellis could never reach us before Prince Vannas could. Yet now we have learned the terrible truth--that our spies have failed and Bellis was able to begin advancing under a veil of secrecy." "But that seems impossible!" said Fadar. "How could an army that vast move in secret? The Elder Hawks would have swarmed on us with warnings." "It was difficult," said Vesselin, "but they were able to achieve it by cutting off all means of communication in the form of the Elder Hawks. They hunted down and killed all of them. Without the Hawks, Bellis was then easily able to march into Silverland before we could learn of it. Now it is a race between King Verlamer and Prince Vannas, and we believe the prince has already lost. We will be attacked without the White Flamestone to assist us." Fadar groaned. "We put too much faith in our spies." "The White Flamestone will come to Dremlock," said Krissana, "at some point. We simply need to hold out as long as we can--until it arrives." "Will it even be enough?" said Fadar. "We don't know," said Vesselin. "We didn't expect a force that large to march against Silverland. We've never faced anything comparable. Most of them are elite Knights. After Bellis' defeat against Taris' battalion, it seems King Verlamer is taking no chances this time." "They are spread out all over Gallamerth," said Krissana, "and yet they can still manage eight-thousand Knights. It is shocking. Even with the White Flamestone, we would be hard pressed to survive. We expect the major cities to fall easily-perhaps even without a fight. Some of Verlamer's warriors will have to remain to occupy the cities. But that still leaves thousands of Knights to march right to our wall and lay siege. And we are weak from so much warfare lately." Fadar's mind raced, searching for an answer. And to his surprise, he quickly found one. "Undoubtedly, they plan to bombard us from a distance until the wall is barren and bloodied. If we can destroy the siege engines, the warriors will have a difficult time breaching our wall. We might then be able to hold out for a long time, depending on our resources."

"I believe it can be done," said Krissana, smiling. "Bellis' siege engines are incredibly sturdy--and were probably made even more sturdy after the battle with Taris Warhawk's battalion--but if we use the Sacred Fire, we might be able to bring them down without having to resort to the devastation of the Silverbane. I can say no more about this plan--just be prepared when the time comes, Fadar. Until then, no decision will be made." Fadar was stunned by her words, but he simply bowed. Would she really allow her archers to use the Sacred Birlote Fire? Did she have the king's permission to do so? If not, she would be breaking a major Borenthia law. "I'm not sure anything can stop Bellis," said Vesselin. He took a sip of tea, his hands trembling. "If they breach the wall, they will quickly overrun the kingdom. And then what will become of our Divine Essence?" "They will seek to destroy our god," said Krissana. "And that is why we must fight to the death. No order of surrender must be given, Vesselin. If necessary, Dremlock will become our tomb." Vesselin looked away. "I cannot agree--even to save our god. I do not believe in fighting to the death. I despise warfare of any kind. If things are going badly, and our Lord Knight still hasn't awakened, I will give the order of surrender." Krissana nodded. "You hold the Green Chalice, Vesselin, and with only two of us Council left here at Dremlock, you outrank me. You are the acting Lord Knight until Taris returns, and you have my full . But I strongly urge you to avoid surrendering." Her face was as hard as stone, her green eyes cold. "We must die with honor in defense of our god." "I understand your belief," said Vesselin, "and I will not surrender if there is any shred of hope that we can endure. But if it becomes a slaughter, I will do what I must to save this kingdom." His voice quivered as he spoke. "I...I cannot bear to see everyone put to death, especially the young Squires..." "Can you appoint more Council ?" asked Fadar. Krissana shook her head. "I would love to promote you to Green, Fadar. But right now we lack the authority, with the Tower Masters absent. By the way, Furlus Goblincrusher was on his way back to Dremlock but is long overdue. He may have been captured or killed."

Fadar sighed. It was another devastating loss to Dremlock. "We haven't yet given up on Furlus," said Vesselin. "Or Taris for that matter. For now, we will act as if both Tower Masters are expected to return and follow the Sacred Laws accordingly." Fadar nodded. "I understand." It would have made little difference anyway. Vesselin had the final say concerning whether or not they would surrender or fight to the death. Fadar could only hope he chose wisely. "Bellis' army should reach us in less than a week," said Krissana. "That will give us plenty of time to prepare for war. We want you, Fadar, to lead the effort to defend Dremlock. You are one of the greatest warriors amongst the Birlotes, and the greatest archer, perhaps, who has ever lived. You are a legend, my friend." Fadar bowed, pleased to receive such a great honor. "I will do everything within my power to defend this kingdom." Vesselin placed a trembling hand on Fadar's shoulder. "You're a young, handsome warrior, Fadar--lean and strong and full of confidence. You will do much to inspire the other Knights." "Thank you," said Fadar, feeling a bit embarrassed by all the praise. "I can only hope they look to me as a leader." "Of course they will," said Krissana. An awkward moment of silence followed. Vesselin folded his arms across his chest, and he looked sad. "I think I have lived too long, my friends. I almost wish I was no longer here." "Nonsense," said Krissana. "You will live to see Dremlock turn back the mighty forces of Bellis and its tyrant king." "Yet I don't believe that," said Vesselin. "I'm sorry to it it, but I don't. I have a grim feeling that...this is the end for Dremlock." "Fadar, begin your preparations at dawn," said Krissana. "We're placing our full trust in you and the future of this kingdom."

Fadar rose and bowed. "I will not disappoint you." He glanced at Vesselin, wondering why the ancient Knight was so certain things would turn out badly. With the Sacred Fire on their side and the White Flamestone on the way, it seemed there was hope. Perhaps Vesselin was just tired. Fadar's gaze lingered for a moment, but Vesselin's grim expression never changed. *** Over the next week, Fadar Stonebow worked very hard to prepare for the invasion. He took inventory on Dremlock's resources and found the kingdom to be quite capable for prolonged combat. In fact, he was surprised and delighted it was so well stocked. Also, he made sure that any Squires who seemed capable enough were promoted to Knights, and he ordered all of the Orange Squires to receive combat training. Under his direction, the siege engines were rolled out near the wall and readied for battle. Meanwhile, the Great Forge was ablaze day and night as the Olrog blacksmiths hammered out weapons and armor--in particular arrows and lances that Fadar knew would be critical to defending the wall. Fadar ordered the mountain outside of Dremlock evacuated and provided assistance as needed in the form of horses and wagons. Soon all the shops, inns, taverns, and houses along the trail stood empty, all supplies removed so Bellis wouldn't have access to them. The barren mountainside was a sad sight, the bustling businesses and cheerful crowds gone away through forests and over hills to places unknown, perhaps never to return again. Fadar sent forth winged spies in the dead of night, and soon word came back telling of Bellis' army. They learned that Kalamede, Silvergate, and Gravendar were already being occupied by King Verlamer's forces--though for some reason the city of Knights Welcome had been ignored, perhaps because it was smaller than the others and harbored less resources. No blood had yet been shed, as the cities had surrendered peacefully. Regardless, the bulk of Bellis' army was still headed for Dremlock. The spies brought news of several Thallite giants amongst the warriors--as well as a towering, armored figure on horseback that was said to be Bellis' god in living form. The army was about two days from Dremlock, and Taris and Prince Vannas had just left Kalamede. Bellis had triumphed in the race and there was nothing to be done about it. The trap laid for Taris' forces had worked to perfection.

The Knights and Squires spent much time praying in the Temple as the days ed by, asking the Divine Essence to give them the wisdom to save their kingdom. Some even prayed for peace. Meanwhile, the great banners of war were raised along the wall, as weapons and armor gleamed in the sunlight below. Then at last the horns blew throughout Dremlock, indicating that Bellis' army had reached the mountain. The elite Birlote archers on loan from Borenthia lined the top of the wall, along with sorcerers and Blue Knights, awaiting orders from Fadar and Krissana. A sea of Red Knights stood below, heavy lances in hand, while the Brown Knights operated the siege engines. Some of the White Knights also stood here and there as well, ready to ister healing for the ugly battle wounds that were sure to be inflicted on Dremlock's warriors. Everyone waited with pounding hearts on a warm, sunny day for war to begin. There was nothing left to say. All that mattered now was survival. They stood in silence and as still as statues, with only silver Birlote hair and proud banners waving in the breeze. Soon the clanking of metal and rumbling of heavy siege machines reached their ears, as the massive army worked its way up the mountain trail. It sounded like an earthquake had struck the mountain. When that army finally came into view, there was no talk of surrender--or of anything else. Bellis' archers immediately began firing from horseback at the warriors atop the wall, and some of them toppled over. Bellis had come only to conquer by bloodshed and teach Dremlock a harsh lesson. King Verlamer had been humiliated by defeat near the shores of the Grey Lake, and now it was payback time. *** From atop the wall, the Birlote archers were deadly--their arrows finding vulnerable spots in Bellis' Knights. But many of their foes were hidden behind huge tower shields that even these elite archers could not penetrate. Meanwhile, the siege engines continued to hurl fire and rock back and forth, causing massive damage to both armies. The Red Knights hurled wave after wave of lances over the wall. They could not see their targets, as all the space on the wall was taken up by archers and they were forced to throw from the ground, but the heavy, burning lances did tremendous damage nonetheless--piercing through tower shields and armor and throwing deadly sparks and flames all about. It was a temporary assault,

however, for eventually they would run out of lances. The archers, however, had a supply of arrows that would last far longer--and more could be quickly forged. Fadar Stonebow readied another arrow, but he paused, his gaze sweeping over the sea of enemy Knights below. A wall of golden shields was advancing toward Dremlock, amidst towering siege engines rolling along the mountain road. The army was breathtaking in its vastness. Fadar watched as flaming objects landed on the wall nearby, sending several archers to a fiery death. He longed to be far away from here and in deep forest kingdom of Borenthia--away from the madness that was sweeping Gallamerth. But there was no escape from it. If he didn't defend Dremlock here and now, Borenthia would be the next kingdom to fall. With a battle cry, Fadar charged his arrow with his will and his sorcery and then released the bowstring. The arrow blazed with green fire that surrounded the shaft but did not burn it. The arrow streaked through the air and struck an enemy Knight's tower shield, exploding in a blast of searing heat that engulfed the rider in a fireball and flung him off his horse. The Knight burned to ash, leaving only charred bones and armor. As usual, Bellis was counting on their mighty siege engines to win the war. It was a strategy that had worked many times in the past, as no kingdom could withstand their colossal catapults. Some of those kingdoms had simply surrendered after catching a glimpse of the giant weapons as they approached. Once Dremlock's wall was breached, Bellis' sea of heavily armored Knights would overrun Dremlock with sheer numbers. A bloody battle would ensue within the kingdom, but ultimately, Dremlock would likely fall. But the entire plan was based on overcoming the Great Wall forged from mountain rock that had protected the kingdom since its birth. The siege engines constantly hurled heavy boulders and huge, burning chunks of wood atop that wall, crushing dozens of defenders. Meanwhile, ladders sprang up here and there, as the invaders climbed furiously to breach the wall. Fadar Stonebow's eyes were wide as he beheld the damage. "We won't last long. We have to destroy their siege engines." Krissana Windsword nodded, her face grim. "It is time to use the Sacred Fire. I will take responsibility for this."

"Are you certain?" asked Fadar. This was a huge decision. Using the Sacred Fire to defend a kingdom that was not Borenthia was typically not allowed. In fact, only the Birlote king was allowed to order its use. But Krissana commanded such respect amongst the Birlotes that Fadar would not hesitate to obey. "Yes," she replied. "Bellis must be turned back--for the sake of Borenthia. Our king will understand. I am certain of it." Fadar bowed. "We await your command." "I have already given it," she said, sending him a piercing stare. "Do what must be done." Again, he bowed, his stomach churning with anxiety. At last, Fadar Stonebow would see the Sacred Fire. He'd dreamt of its magnificence since childhood, wondering if he would ever be permitted to use it. Like the other elite archers, he was fully trained to invoke it--yet had never actually glimpsed it. The training had always been cut short before the arrow was released. As Bellis' siege engines drew closer, Fadar ordered the Birlote archers to take them down. Then he took a deep breath and channeled the Sacred Fire into his arrow. He watched in awe as the shaft burned with a golden hue. Then he waited for Krissana to fire her arrow. It was by her order, and she would be the first to shoot. The row of archers stood perfectly still for a moment, as boulders and burning timber crashed down amongst them. Then, with a piercing battle cry, Krissana fired her arrow. It streaked through the air and stuck deep in the huge oaken beam of a siege engine. With a cheer, Fadar and the other archers released their own bowstrings. Flaming arrows erupted all over the wood and iron structures. Bellis was well prepared for fire attacks--the wood treated to resist flame and buckets of water on hand. But they weren't prepared for the Sacred Fire launched by these archers--yellow flame like fall leaves that scattered everywhere and quickly raged out of control. Soon the mighty siege engines were blazing like torches. "It is done," said Krissana. "For Borenthia!" The archers cried out in triumph, raising their bows. A mighty blow had just been struck to the invaders. It seemed that Dremlock might turn back the assault

after all. Clearly, Bellis had no answer for the Birlote archers. "This wall will not be breached!" Fadar shouted boldly. His words were met with a roar of enthusiasm. Dremlock's own siege engines continued to rain destruction down upon the enemy. Meanwhile, the invaders kept trying to climb the wall with ladders, but the archers, sorcerers, and Blue Knights made quick work of them, their bodies tumbling back to the ground. With the gates of Darkender Tunnel made of impenetrable Glaetherin and protected by stout Wheel Locks, Bellis' Knights had no choice but to keep trying to climb the wall. But the act of climbing rendered their shields ineffective, and they became easy targets for the Divine Knights. Dremlock's warriors began to believe that they would hold the wall indefinitely, until Bellis was forced to give up or try something else. The kingdom was heavily stocked with resources--enough to last for months-held in tower rooms and underground storage. Bellis could try to starve them out, but food could be farmed in the kingdom gardens and the Grey Dwarves could quickly grow nutritious plants underground all year round that could provide food almost indefinitely. Water was abundant within the kingdom walls. Weapons and clothing could be repaired, and heat could be generated by the fires of sorcery. If Bellis chose to wait, it would be a very long wait--and King Verlamer was not known for his patience. Instead, Bellis' Knights continued with wave after wave trying to breach the wall. Even though the dead and dying fell like rain, they continued erecting ladders and climbing. Many reached the top of the wall--only to be shot by arrows or cut down by swords. "The fools!" said Fadar. "They must know they cannot win, now that their precious siege engines are burning to ash." He talked to Krissana even as he fired his arrows left and right. "At this rate," said Krissana, pausing for a brief rest, "we will slay thousands of them. Surely they will bring more siege engines." "And we will burn those as well," said Fadar. "They have no hope. King Verlamer sends his finest Knights to their doom atop our wall. The Sacred Fire caught them completely by surprise."

"So it appears," said Krissana. "But this war is far from over, my friend. Bellis is cunning, and their army is much larger than what lies before us. We need the power of the White Flamestone--so we can take the battle to them." "Agreed," said Fadar, shooting a nearby enemy Knight that was charging them. The arrow ed through a thin slot in the fellow's helm and straight through his eye. The Knight toppled silently from the wall. "But we have bought time for the White Flamestone to return to Dremlock." Krissana shot an enemy Knight off a ladder--barely glancing at her foe before ending his life with an arrow to the throat. "So it appears. Let us hope Prince Vannas arrives soon and ends this bloody--" A great horn blew out that seemed to shake the wall. Fadar and Krissana exchanged a look of shock, for the sound of that horn could only mean one thing--that Dremlock's wall had been significantly breached. Frantically, the two scanned the wall, searching for the enemy. But there was none to be seen. The defenders were holding steady, a long row of warriors atop the stone barrier. Yet an ominous sight greeted them--for the enemy ladders were quickly being abandoned. Many of them already stood empty. Bellis' Knights were moving toward the front gates. "Darkender tunnel!" Fadar said, groaning. "Somehow they've gotten through the gates." He could hardly believe it, but what other explanation was there? "But it's not possible," said Krissana, her eyes wild. "The gates of Glaetherin cannot fall. The Wheel Locks cannot be solved!" Soon the answer was revealed, as a Red Knight frantically dragged one of the Wheel Masters to the wall below them. "This wretch betrayed us!" he growled up at Krissana. "He opened the way for Bellis!" The betrayer was Findel Greenblade, a skinny, balding Brown Knight nearing retirement age who typically guarded the end of Darkender Tunnel that opened into the kingdom. "I don't know what happened!" Findel cried. "I saw a shadow in the tunnel-some great beast like...a giant wolf. That's all I ." "Liar!" the Red Knight shouted. "You have doomed our kingdom!" He raised his

axe. "I'll cut off your head, traitor!" "Halt!" Krissana ordered. "This could be the work of the Deep Shadow...somehow. The tunnel had to be opened from both ends, which means both Wheel Masters were involved. Where is the other one?" "I don't know," said the Red Knight. "I fled ahead of Bellis' fighters. They are moving swiftly, hundreds of them pouring into our kingdom!" Fadar said nothing, hope crumbling around him. The Wheel Masters were trained extensively to be able to resist any form of mind control. Even the most powerful Wizards could not sway them. They could not be intimidated or broken under torture. Their ability to feel pain had been reduced to a minimal level. If someone had managed to influence them, it must have been someone (or some creature) with powers beyond anything Fadar could imagine. Only a Greater Goblin or a Barloak demon from ancient times possessed that kind of power. The description of the shadowy wolf was very revealing to Fadar. "Rally our warriors to protect the towers!" Krissana cried, and the horns blew out again--giving commands that every Divine Knight understood. But Fadar continued to stand there in shock, his bow dangling loosely from his hand. It was all coming to an end before his eyes. After Dremlock fell, Borenthia and Fallenrock (the kingdom city of the grey dwarves) would be the only significant free kingdoms left on the entire continent of Gallamerth. How had Bellis grown into such a monstrosity of evil? "We fight to the death!" Krissana shouted, raising her bow. Fadar hesitated, then drew an arrow from his quiver. He studied it for a moment in the sunlight. It was a fine arrow, forged in Borenthia from the High Oak and carved with runes of good fortune. He sniffed the wood and smiled, memories of his forest kingdom flooding through him at the sweet scent. The only question left to him was how many foes he could slay before they brought him down.

Chapter 17: The God of Bellis

After that, the battle for Dremlock became mass confusion. Fadar and Krissana stood side by side atop the wall, shooting any foes that came within range. Below, Dremlock's Knights were making a valiant stand in an effort to keep Bellis' forces from pouring through the tunnel. As wave after wave of enemy warriors charged through, the wall of Divine Knights cut them down with blazing weapons. Fadar wondered how long they could hold out. His question was answered as four Thallite giants smashed through the wall of defenders, hurling broken bodies left and right. Standing roughly twelve feet tall and protected from head to toe by crimson armor, the giants were nearly unstoppable. But there was an even more dangerous foe amongst them--a towering man in golden, spiked armor with a helm that was shaped like the head of a bull with seven gleaming horns like the rays of the sun. His deep voice was almost inhuman, and he seemed to use words as weapons against Dremlock-occasionally pausing to bellow statements through a curved, rune-covered horn that was slung over one shoulder. This godlike warrior carried a great golden battle axe that burned with shimmering fire and cut down Dremlock's warriors with ease. He wasn't as large as the Thallites, but he was still huge and imposing and seemed invincible. Stout weapons shattered against his armor, and Divine Knights scattered like leaves before his axe. Bellis' warriors rallied around him, protecting him with their lives (even though he didn't seem to need any protection). Meanwhile, he shouted strange insults through the horn at his foes and promised doom if the kingdom dared oppose him, his voice easily booming out over the sounds of battle. He revealed that he was the god Ebros and could not be defeated. Sometimes he simply laughed into the horn, as if the brutal fight was jolly. He also urged the Divine Knights to surrender and promised their lives would be spared. There was something terribly compelling in his voice, and some of the Knights threw down their weapons and gave up. Calmly, Fadar took aim at the golden warrior and waited. There were two eye holes in the bull-shaped helm, but they were small and Fadar needed a perfect shot. This armored giant was clearly the heart of Bellis' army, the warrior who

made that army feel invincible. For all Fadar knew, it was King Verlamer himself beneath that bull-faced helm. But regardless of who he was, the warrior had to be brought down or Dremlock had little chance of winning. Fadar needed to prove that this golden giant was flesh and blood and could die like any man. After a couple of moments, the godlike fighter turned in Fadar's direction, calling for surrender to those atop the wall, and the archer whispered the ancient words of the wind in the old Birlote language that would carry his arrow to its destination. He became aware of everything--angle, breeze, other arrows missing and bouncing off the helm, the weight and feel of his own arrow. And then Fadar Stonebow knew he could not miss. He released the arrow. Fadar watched as the shaft pierced the eyehole and lodged in what lay beneath. The golden warrior's head jerked back on impact, and his body shuddered. He took one awkward step sideways, and Fadar was certain he would fall. But then the golden warrior reached up with a gauntlet-covered hand and seized the arrow, ripping it from the eyehole and flinging it aside. For a moment, he seemed weakened and sagged a bit. Then he stood up straight and tall once again. Fadar groaned. What manner of warrior or sorcerer could take an arrow to the eye and recover instantly? Surely, this was a god. The golden warrior raised his head and looked up at Fadar, then swung the axe in his direction. An enormous yellow fireball--blazing like the sun--emerged from the axe head and hurtled toward him. Fadar was unable to move as he watched it come closer, his body paralyzed by some foul sorcery that made him act like a moth drawn to flame. He could hear Krissana Windsword scream at him, yet still he didn't move. Then he felt hands shove him from the wall, and he was falling. Fadar landed hard on the battlefield below, striking his head on something. He was aware of warm blood touching his head, and then his mind grew dim. He'd failed, yet he'd done all he could and was at peace with himself. His last arrow had found its mark--a perfect shot. What more could be expected of an archer? Legend or not, he was only a mortal man and simply could not go on--not even to save Dremlock and the Divine Essence. He felt grateful that he was slipping away from the wretched battle, and he envisioned the trees of his homeland with such clarity that he could count the leaves around him. The ugly warfare of humanity was over for him and all that remained was peace as he sank into the darkness.

*** Below the Sacred Temple, Vesselin Hopebringer and a Red Knight (a Wheel Master) stood in a cavern where multi-colored crystal protruded from the stone walls. The Red Knight held the unconscious body of Cordus Landsaver. The fallen Lord Knight wore his magnificent gleaming breastplate and his sword. The Red Knight, named Jaspar Wisehelm, could no longer hide the doubt he was feeling. "Are you sure this is a good decision? If the Divine Essence fails to protect him, our Lord Knight could die down here. He will have no food, water, or healing services." Jaspar was a Grey Dwarf with a beard that hung down past his belt and that had been dyed red in honor of his color class. He wore a patch over one eye and a spiked mace was carried on his back. Vesselin hesitated before answering. How could he explain to this young Olrog that he knew instinctively that the Divine Essence would protect Cordus? "You must trust me on this," he said at last. "We cannot let our enemies get their hands on our Lord Knight. We have lost this fight. This is the only way we can protect him now. We must trust in our god." Jaspar bowed, but he looked uncertain. "Do I even have the right to stand in the presence of our god? I thought it was forbidden." Vesselin shrugged. "You must, for I lack the strength to carry Cordus. I am old and weak, my friend. Whether I live or die does not matter all that much--but our one true Lord Knight must survive." They continued along the ageway. The battle for Dremlock was over. Vesselin Hopebringer had already given the order of surrender. He'd done so because too many Knights were falling in battle--and some of the Squires as well, which troubled him deeply. Once Bellis had breached Darkender Tunnel, he knew all was lost. Without the White Flamestone, their great hope had been the stout wall that protected the kingdom. With the wall no longer a factor, there was simply nothing to do but lay down arms and live on. Yet Vesselin was deeply troubled by his order of surrender. He wondered if Cordus would have done the same thing. He couldn't imagine the fierce, determined Lord Knight ever giving up. But Vesselin Hopebringer was a man of peace and a believer that all human life was sacred. It had been his decision, and he'd followed his conscience for better or worse.

"Once we leave him with our god," said Jaspar, "what then? Surely our foes will be waiting for us above, now that the kingdom has fallen." He scowled, looking deeply bitter. "What a wretched day for Dremlock!" Vesselin sighed. "We will give ourselves up peacefully. The order of surrender negates anything else. It can only be overturned by our Lord Knight or one of his Tower Masters. We must accept that fact that Bellis now rules over this kingdom, Jaspar. It is time to lay down your mace." Jaspar growled a Dwarven curse. "It all seems...wrong somehow. As if we surrendered too easily. I don't enjoy questioning a member of the High Council, but are you certain it was a wise move?" "No, I'm not," Vesselin itted. "But what would you have me do? Our Knights were being slaughtered--along with some of our young, talented Squires." His voice quivered with anger. "Had I not given the order, how many would have died? And for what? Bellis would still be victorious in the end. They outnumber us by thousands of Knights, Jaspar." Jaspar muttered something under his breath. "Surrender is not the way of the Grey Dwarves. I would not have agreed to it, and there are many who think like I do. But we are not on the High Council. I could dare to speak the truth...but it would likely offend you, Master Hopebringer." Vesselin paused, his anger growing. Jaspar wasn't the only Knight to question his decision. Maybe he was an old fool not fit to lead Dremlock, but he felt he needed to speak up for himself. "I'm well aware, Wheel Master, that I may go down in history and the first leader of Dremlock to issue an order of surrender. I may be hated forever. But I could not bear to see so many young Knights and Squires put to death defending a hopeless kingdom." "Hopeless?" Jaspar growled. "Were you so certain of that?" "I'm certain of nothing," said Vesselin, bowing his head. "I'm a very old man with a lot of doubt. I wish I wasn't the acting Lord Knight, that someone else bore this great responsibility. But know this--I would rather be ed as a coward who surrendered this kingdom than an unyielding fool who fought until every last man, woman, and child in Dremlock lay dead in the dirt." The Grey Dwarf groaned. "I understand your view on the issue, but...surrender?

I despise the very word! And you may find that the Grey Dwarves who dwell in these mining tunnels--the Dark Knights--do not respect your decision. They may choose to fight on regardless, and they will not be easily weeded out! They will resist the way the Goblins down here have resisted--by stealth, cunning, setting traps, and having unsured knowledge of the mines. Let King Verlamer send his forces down here until the tunnels are crammed tight with fools ready for the slaughter, for they shall never return again to the sunlight!" Vesselin said nothing, knowing he could not reason with the enraged Dwarf. They continued on, and the stone around them was replaced entirely by crystal. A radiant light lurked up ahead around a curve--a light that inspired joy and optimism within them. It was the Mind of the White Guardian. Jaspar hesitated. "I feel unworthy to stand in its presence." "As do I," said Vesselin. "But we must continue." They rounded the curve and entered a chamber of fantastically colored crystal-at the center of which stood the Divine Essence. Dremlock's god consisted of three purple Flamestones (which were actually one) rising from a flat base and standing a bit taller than the two Knights. Like slightly curved spears with broad ends, the purple crystals shimmered with radiant fire that was reflected in the colorful walls around it. The Divine Essence commanded loyalty, love, and respect, and Vesselin knew he stood in the presence of a truly immortal being. He'd never believed he would gaze upon his god (only Lord Knights were allowed to), but as the acting Lord Knight the Sacred Laws had permitted it to happen. Vesselin knelt before his god. Jaspar laid Cordus Landsaver before the Divine Essence, and then he knelt as well. The moments crept by. Vesselin marveled at the joy and optimism he felt in the Divine Essence's presence--even knowing that Dremlock had fallen to its enemies. He could have remained there forever basking in that glow and totally at peace. The age of time meant nothing. But there was still work to be done for Vesselin, and Cordus had been laid to rest before his god. It was time to leave. Vesselin started to rise on shaky legs, when a voice in his mind commanded him to remain. The Divine Essence was speaking to him, reassuring him that his decision to surrender was the correct one. It told him that the hope for Dremlock

and Gallamerth itself lay with the Flamestones--the parts of its body that represented the Mind, the Will, the Heart, the Hand, and the Blood--and that only the Black Flamestone should be feared. He was told that the other stones could be used safely if great care was taken--but that if grave mistakes were made the results could be catastrophic. It told Vesselin to live up to his name of Hopebringer and keep hope alive for others in this time to crises. He was, after all, still the acting Lord Knight and they would look to him for leadership. The Divine Essence also praised Vesselin for his decades of healing service and fondness for peace and said that Vesselin had brought much comfort to those in need. Vesselin was informed that Cordus Landsaver would be cared for and protected and would have no need of food or drink--and that bringing the Lord Knight to the Divine Essence was a wise decision that no one should question. It found Vesselin innocent of all the accusations he might endure. Vesselin's gaze was drawn deep into the three crystals. The shimmering, colored reflections in the chamber danced before his eyes, and deeper answers were revealed. The Divine Essence shared some of its secrets with Vesselin. This child god harbored tremendous knowledge but lacked the ability to communicate it, leaving it frustrated in its dealings with mortals. It was a divine being caught in a frightening earthly snare, forced to rely entirely upon its servants. It was a vulnerable creature that could be enslaved or even made to serve evil. Then the Divine Essence went silent, the light and aura dying down some, and Vesselin was left wondering why he'd been given this knowledge. He was greatly disturbed by the revelation that his god could be enslaved. He felt the full weight of the peril the land was facing--especially now that Dremlock had fallen. Vesselin rose, and noticed that Jaspar was still on his knees and looking dazed. Vesselin shook him. "Come, my friend. Our task here is done." They left the chamber and moved off down the tunnel. "I think I was asleep and dreaming," said Jaspar, his eyes wide. "I was shown flaws in some of the Dwarven designs...our machines. These are things the Olrogs have pondered for centuries. I believe it shared this knowledge simply out of good will. Our god is a great thinker, Vesselin!" Vesselin nodded. "The greatest Mind in all the land. And that is why it must live

on and remain free. Somehow..." "Yet it is no longer free," said Jaspar, his face darkening. "Why couldn't it tell us what to do to defeat Bellis? Surely it must have the answer." "It might have the answer," said Vesselin, "but it is not an answer we would understand. It cannot easily communicate with us. Some of its thoughts are too extraordinary for our minds to comprehend." "What about the Birlote Wizards?" said Jaspar. "They understand things on a higher level. Perhaps they could communicate with it." "They would never come here," said Vesselin, "even if Bellis wasn't in control. They prefer to remain in Borenthia. Also, our god will not speak to them--and with good reason. I understand it now." "What is that reason?" asked Jaspar. Vesselin sighed. "Because, like the Dark Watchmen of old, they are too dangerous. The Dark Watchmen tried to kill the Divine Essence. They believed they had reached a level that would allow for victory, but they miscalculated. Yes, there are some mortals so powerful that even our god is not safe from them." "Like King Verlamer," said Jaspar. Vesselin nodded. "From the Mad King of Bellis, no one is safe--not man, beast, or..." He couldn't bring himself to finish that statement and it that his shattered god was in great danger. *** It wasn't over yet for Fadar Stonebow, for he awakened in a dim dungeon with a wretched headache. He didn't know exactly how long he'd been unconscious, but he suspected it had been at least several hours. The dungeon's design had the look of Dremlock Kingdom--which meant Bellis had claimed at least one of the towers. This did not come as a shock to Fadar, for once Bellis' warriors had gotten through Darkender Tunnel, King Verlamer's victory had been almost certain.

Fadar probed his head wound. He had a gash and a lump, crusted with dried blood, but it didn't seem to be anything a bit of healing meditation wouldn't fix. He worked on healing himself as he waited for answers. At last a guard stepped in front of the cell bars--a blond, muscular fellow wearing chain mail that displayed the Crest of Bellis. He carried a gleaming battle axe in one hand. He had fanatical blue eyes set in a strikingly handsome face that was half bathed in crimson from torchlight. He pressed his face against the bars and grinned at Fadar. "Welcome back. Did you have a good sleep?" Fadar shrugged. "I missed the battle's end." "I'll fill you in," said the guard, his grin broadening. "Your Knights were beaten back, and we took control as expected. End of story." "So it is over," said Fadar. "Dremlock has lost the war." Even as he spoke the words, he could barely believe them. "You didn't just lose the war," said the guard, "but you lost by surrender. Your Lord Knight Vesselin Hopebringer gave the order." The guard laughed. "I guess he wasn't fond of all the bodies piling up around the kingdom--all those precious Divine Knights lying dead in the dirt. He really had no choice, you know. You were vastly outnumbered, and thousands more of our warriors were on the way. It's really amazing that Dremlock lasted this long." "Where is Krissana Windsword?" asked Fadar. "She was with me atop the wall, when...that fireball..." He sighed. He wondered if the guard even knew what he was talking about. Regardless, he felt so defeated he wanted to sink through the floor. He almost wished he'd never awakened. Legendary Dremlock was now just another slave kingdom of Bellis. King Verlamer now owned all of the Norack kingdoms. Only the Dwarves and Birlotes remained independent, but for how long? "She's dead," said the guard. "Probably better off." He laughed. "You didn't get so lucky, my sad friend." Fadar groaned. He didn't know for sure if the guard was telling the truth, but he sensed no obvious deception. The pain in his heart told him Krissana probably was gone. For a moment, he stood quietly in despair.

Then a light of hope sprang into Fadar's mind. Prince Vannas and the White Flamestone were still out there somewhere--along with an army of Knights led by Taris Warhawk. All was not lost. The guard seemed to sense his thoughts. "I'm guessing you haven't surrendered. Birlotes aren't known for that. You're probably thinking your beloved prince is going to come and save you with his magical stone. Right?" He glanced slyly at Fadar. "Well, am I right? Anyway, it's not going to happen. Taris Warhawk's army has been reduced to practically nothing. If he brings the prince anywhere near Dremlock then both of those Birlotes are doomed. He would be wise to just stay away." "He will come," said Fadar. "And there will be bloodshed." The guard shrugged, and his eyes burned with emotion. "It won't matter. We have our god and our king with us. Both have come to Dremlock to ensure that the kingdom remains in possession of Bellis. And so we cannot possibly be defeated. Taris is weakened by injuries, his battalion is wiped out, and the prince wouldn't even know how to begin trying to take back this kingdom on his own. It would be a suicide mission. And who else is there to save Dremlock? The Birlotes? They already sent their best, and those warriors are dead or in dungeons. There is no one coming to save you, my friend. Accept it." "What do you want from me?" asked Fadar. Had the guard simply come to torment him with words? "Right now I'm just bored," said the guard. "I've got some time to chat. Actually, I'm not yet sure what will be done with you. I'm guessing you will be asked to swear allegiance to Bellis, and if you don't do so, you will spend all your remaining days in a dungeon like this one with only the rats for company." "Why am I alone?" asked Fadar. "Surely the dungeons must be full of Divine Knights." "King Verlamer wanted to isolate you," the guard replied. "This is his private dungeon, below the North Tower. He wants to speak to you personally, when he gets the chance. You are a Knight of considerable importance, obviously. Consider it a great honor that you will get to meet the King of Gallamerth." "The King of Gallamerth," Fadar mumbled, the words bitter on his tongue. There

was truth in the statement, for Verlamer practically ruled the entire continent. "That's right," said the guard, grinning broadly. "And soon to be King of the Birlotes." "Never!" Fadar growled, before he could stop himself. He knew it was pointless to argue with this young, arrogant warrior. The guard laughed and slapped the bars. "That's the spirit! But you're quite wrong. Borenthia will fall soon enough. You'll understand when you meet our king. He's not like your weak old Lord Knight. Or king is nearly a god himself, and you will be shocked when you lay eyes on him." "A puppet of Tharnin," Fadar said. "For where else does he get his power if not from the shadow realm?" The guard shook his head. His eyes were distant, filled with adoration as he prepared to speak of his king. "You are wrong. He gets his power from his bloodline, from ages past. He commands the lesser beasts of this world, including some of the Dragons. And even a powerful Birlote like you will fall on your knees before him." He lowered his voice a bit. "We have a god and a king-but if we had to make do with only one, it would be King Verlamer the ageless. He is the reason that Bellis is mighty. Can you say the same for your pathetic Lord Knight? Or even your Divine Essence, which hides below in some cave?" Fadar said nothing. His one hope was the White Flamestone, and all he could do was wait for it to arrive. "Are you hungry?" asked the guard. "Meat and potatoes, if you want. By then maybe the king will stop by for his visit. Or it could be days before he does. Who knows?" "I'll take some food," said Fadar, knowing he needed to keep up his strength. Taris and Prince Vannas would be counting on those were still alive and imprisoned to help liberate the kingdom. After the meal, the guard vanished for a while, leaving Fadar alone for several hours. During that time, he began to despair that Dremlock would never be free again. Bellis was simply too powerful. It had thrown a relatively small army against Dremlock, and undoubtedly thousands of warriors were still on the way.

How could less than a thousand Knights ever secure their freedom against such massive numbers, even with the power of the Divine Essence on their side? Fadar knew the only real hope for Dremlock was if the Birlotes, the Olrogs, and the Divine Knights fought together as one. But the Tree Dwellers and Grey Dwarves were reluctant to get fully involved in a war they viewed as Norack business, and that attitude was unlikely to change even with the fall of Dremlock. Fadar sat in the corner with his head bowed, utterly miserable. He didn't expect to actually meet King Verlamer, for surely the tyrant was too busy dealing with his new kingdom to bother with one archer. Fadar wondered how many great Knights had fallen. What had become of Cordus Landsaver? Would the unconscious Lord Knight be cared for under this occupation? What would become of the Divine Essence? Dremlock's god was in fact a powerful Flamestone and could protect itself by deadly force--as it once had against the Dark Watchmen who had turned against it. But the Deep Shadow was cunning and sooner or later might find a way to destroy the Divine Essence. It was a horrible fear, yet Fadar was suddenly so exhausted that nothing could keep him awake. He fell asleep and dreamt that thousands of Birlotes were marching upon Dremlock to free it, and he awoke with joy in his heart--only to realize it was a dream. He hunkered down in misery. The hours ed by, and he began to grow hungry again. He still had some water in a pitcher, which he sipped at occasionally. He could see and hear rats scurrying about, which puzzled him. Dremlock's dungeons were supposedly kept mostly free of rats, and he began to suspect that Bellis had released some down there just to add to the atmosphere of misery. It seemed absurd, but it also seemed like something King Verlamer was capable of. He was an eccentric tyrant known for absurdities, which meant that Fadar was now in the clutches of a man. The sound of heavy footsteps reached Fadar's ears, and he rose, his eyes on the torch-lit stone hallway. When the newcomer walked into view, Fadar took a step back in surprise. Facing him was the huge man with the horn and the helm shaped like the head of a golden bull--the supposed god of Bellis. He stood leaning on his enormous battle axe, gazing down at the Birlote archer. "You again," said Fadar, his gaze unwavering. "Bellis' god. Or perhaps some sorcerer cloaked in steel who seeks to deceive."

The golden warrior raised the great horn to his mouth and shouted, "You dare to doubt me, young fool?" The blast of sound was so loud the whole cell seemed to shake. Fadar, however, continued to stand like a statue. With a chuckle, the golden warrior lowered the horn and spoke at a more bearable volume. "You're a wise one, Birlote. And truly an amazing archer. You put an arrow right through my eye. That got my attention. Since you survived my fireball, which was hurled in anger, I've come to realize you would be an asset to Bellis. You are also well respected amongst the Birlotes, and with Krissana Windsword dead, I'm thinking we could use your services." "So Krissana is actually dead," Fadar mumbled, gripped by great sorrow. For some reason, he was certain the golden warrior spoke the truth. "She died saving you, Fadar Stonebow," said the warrior. "She had just enough time to push you from the wall, but she was not quick enough with her own leap. The flames caught her in the air and burned her to ash. I actually regret killing her. She was very talented and knew much about the ways of Dremlock." "I wish she had saved herself instead," said Fadar. "Of course," said the warrior, laughing. "You're a Birlote and noble to the core. But she made the choice to sacrifice herself for you, and that tells me something about you. You are a special fighter." "This is pointless," said Fadar. "You know I will never willingly your side, so why bother? As you said, I am a noble Birlote. We don't forces with evil under any circumstances." The warrior shook his head. "Typical Birlote arrogance--to think you're superior to the other races. But you have a point. Birlotes are not easily swayed to evil. But you can be made to serve unwillingly." Fadar didn't reply, waiting to hear more. "I am the god of Bellis," said the warrior. "The whole kingdom is terrified of me. They fear the judgment of my axe. If I say something is possible, then rest assured that it is. I do not speak in vain."

"All gods are nothing but sorcerers," said Fadar, "except for the Great Light above Stormy Mountain who blessed the land with his creation the Divine Essence. You are a false god--a fake. I do not respect you as a true deity." "A fake?" said the golden warrior. "It matters not. The value of a god is determined by his power--and I hold power over your precious Divine Essence. Meanwhile, your Great Light sleeps and does not interfere with the affairs of Gallamerth. And there is a god more powerful than your Great Light, a god known as the Beast of Tharnin. It bears one eye and six heads--five of which are blind to your suffering." He threw back his head and laughed. "But does the Great Beast interfere? No. It too sleeps and allows its children fight all the battles. It has no choice. This is all a war for power, left in the hands of mortals. And I am the ultimate power on Gallamerth. So yes, I am indeed a god. So give me the respect I deserve, Birlote, before I take your foolish head." "I don't fear you," said Fadar. "Kill me if you must. I will die serving my god, and my spirit will find peace in another realm." The bull face pressed against the bars with a clank of metal. The crazed eyes beneath the mask smoldered with a violet hue. "An execution would be too easy for Birlote filth like you. Instead, you will have your mind subdued by a man who is just as powerful as any god--a man who bears the Blood of Kings. You will soon meet someone who will strike terror in your heart, because this is no ordinary man. Even sorcerers bow in his presence. I speak of King Verlamer. It is time for you to meet him. I must become invisible now--as gods tend to do. I will be watching from the shadows, away from prying eyes. Have a pleasant day!" With that, the god of Bellis moved off down the hallway and then his footsteps fell silent. Fadar leaned against the bars and closed his eyes, hating what things had come to. The golden warrior had been so arrogant and confident that Fadar sank deeper into despair. He prayed to the Divine Essence that Taris and Prince Vannas would arrive soon and end the madness. But the madness was just beginning. Another figure approached the cell bars--and this time it was King Verlamer. The crimson torchlight revealed a pale, somber, bearded face and two dark, insane eyes. The king was a giant--standing over seven feet tall and wearing a crimson

cape over his green robe. His only weapon was a long, jeweled dagger at his hip. He was built like Jace the Wanderer, with broad shoulders and huge bony hands that were wrapped around the cell bars. There was something terrifying and imposing about the King of Bellis that immediately put Fadar on edge. Fadar had not feared Bellis' god, but he found himself fearing the depths of this man's power and insanity. "Fadar Stonebow," said King Verlamer. "Glad I could finally meet you. And how are you getting along? Have you been fed?" When Fadar didn't answer, the king continued, "Come with me, then. We are holding a meeting in the North Tower courtyard to discuss the fate of this kingdom. I'm sure your input would be most welcome." With that, King Verlamer unlocked the cell and stepped back, motioning. Fadar pushed the cell door open and stepped into the hall. He closed it behind him. He wondered if this was a trick. It seemed very strange that the King of Bellis--armed with only a dagger--would come alone to escort Fadar to a meeting. Fadar stood facing King Verlamer, wondering what move to make. The king was reputed to be very skilled in battle and immensely strong, but Fadar was also a mighty warrior. If Fadar was able to strike quickly enough, he might be able to get the king's dagger from its sheath and take him prisoner. The situation seemed surreal. The most powerful king on Gallamerth was standing before Fadar-unguarded and seemingly unconcerned, looking as relaxed as could be. This was a man who'd conquered nearly all of Gallamerth and made countless bitter enemies in the process, yet he walked alone into dimly lit dungeons? It was baffling. King Verlamer raised his eyebrows. "Well, are you coming? We must not keep the crowd waiting, you know." Fadar deliberately avoided glancing at the dagger, and he simply nodded. He decided he would attempt it--even if it cost him his life. He owed it to Dremlock, to his god, and to his own sense of honor not to waste this opportunity. He steadied himself and prepared to go for the king's blade. But a scraping noise on the stone floor caused Fadar to whirl around. Coming toward him was a small golden Dragon--about the height of a wolf and about ten

feet long from its nose to the tip of its tail--walking on four legs and gazing up at him. The scaly creature had yellow eyes, two curved horns, bat-like wings, and long claws on its feet. It also had a bird-like beak. Fadar knew this Dragon possessed enormous power (as all Dragons did) in spite of its small stature. He knew it could tear him to shreds in an instant if it chose to. Fadar was unarmed, but even an armed warrior was no match for a Dragon. Fadar raised his hands to show he meant no harm, and the Dragon paused before him. It cocked its head to one side, its yellow eyes gleaming. This terrifying beast was significantly more powerful than almost all other Goblins. There was something chilling about the way it slyly crept across the floor on silent feet and the cunning glint in its eyes. This was a proud, arrogant beast that considered itself quite important--yet it thought vastly less of others. "This is my best friend," said King Verlamer. "His name is Goratho--which is also the name of a forest near Bellis. He comes from your foul Bloodlands, yet Bellis law does not classify a Dragon as a true Goblin (even though they are actually a species of Goblin). A Dragon is more...dignified and powerful. Ageless and loyal. They make wonderful companions." Fadar stood still, knowing even a slight movement could get him killed. The creature was so deadly a single swipe from a claw could end Fadar's life. He would be forced to cooperate with the king for now. Verlamer stepped around Fadar and patted the Dragon on the head. "My loyal friend," he whispered soothingly. "How do you like your new kingdom? It is a fine one...legendary Dremlock. I am so proud to call it home." He glanced at Fadar. "And those who disagree with my right to rule here may find themselves facing a most unpleasant situation." In response, the Dragon named Goratho threw back his head and hissed like a serpent. Then he screeched like a bird of prey.

Chapter 18: Courtyard Duel

It was mostly warm and pleasant as Taris Warhawk's battalion rode for Dremlock. Some of the injured Knights healed and were ready to fight, bringing the battalion's numbers to over sixty. It was still a tiny force, but also a stout one that would be a great asset in Dremlock's struggle for freedom. Dremlock had been warned by the Elder Hawks, and now it was simply a race to get back home. The pace was swift and exhausting, and supplies were running low. Food had to be hunted and gathered. The riders, made weary from lack of sleep, swayed in the saddle, but the stout Greywinds held steady and did not stumble. They soon received news that the major cities of Silverland had fallen to Bellis, which confirmed their suspicion that King Verlamer had no intention of retreating again. Silverland, with its vast mountain ranges riddled with mines, was a treasure trove of resources that Bellis could not ignore. Conquering Silverland and Dremlock would open the doorway to the Birlote and Olrog kingdoms. When they were camped for breakfast one morning, Taris called a meeting. "We need to decide what must be done," he said, "when we reach Dremlock. We can't simply march in and go to war." "Why not?" said Daledus, waving a half-eaten hunk of venison as he spoke. "If we find the battle in progress, why not jump right in? I think sometimes we hesitate too much and that is why he fail." "Agreed," Valedos grunted. "We are the best Dremlock has to offer. Why should we hesitate? We should strike hard and send them a message!" The other Dwarves nodded in approval. "Taris is right," said Shennen, as he stirred some meat and mushrooms in an iron skillet. He sprinkled some seasoning over the meat. "We would be fools to rush in without a careful plan. The question is how best to use our two greatest resources--the White Flamestone and the Eye of Divinity."

"The plan should be obvious," said Jace, as he paced about. "If we find the battle in progress, we must do what we did against the Blood Legion--surround Prince Vannas and allow him to attack from a greater height. Lannon can help shield him. We should let the White Fire do all the work for us." He raised his eyebrows. "It is quite possibly our only chance." "With Lannon's help," said Taris, "we could make it work. Lannon, can you shield the prince from harm?" "I do have that ability," said Lannon, "and when I focus all of my energy on the task, it works quite well. But it would leave me unable to fight." "With all due respect," said Jace, "your combat skills are not what we need, Lannon. We need a weapon that can slay thousands--as dreadful as that sounds. And make no mistake, such a thing is quite dreadful. I detest war. But we are left with no choice. Anyway, as I was saying, only a weapon like that can defeat Bellis. And when the White Flamestone is in Prince Vannas' hands, it has the potential to be that weapon. He alone can unlock its full power." "And with Lannon protecting him," said Jerret, "the prince would be unstoppable. I think you're onto something, old fellow." Jace grinned. "Of course I am. And that's exactly why Dremlock hired me. I get paid to think of these things." "You could make Prince Vannas invincible, Lannon," said Vorden, who'd been sitting with his head bowed and looking sullen. "Meanwhile, the prince could just keep hammering away at our foes, until nothing but ash remains on the mountain. We could actually win this war." "But something concerns me greatly," said Aldreya. "I haven't forgotten what happened last time, when Prince Vannas seemed to lose himself. Some of our Knights were killed...by accident." Lannon was glad he hadn't witnessed that terrible battle. "This causes me concern as well," said Lothrin, who was leaning against a tree. "I feel it could easily happen again in the heat of battle." Lothrin looked away. "I dream of it every night--my cousin turning into a monster like Timlin Woodmaster and..." He shook his head. "I will not speak of the rest."

Vannas glared at him. "I assure you, cousin, that I am in control of my emotions. I was going through a time of uncertainty, and yes, I briefly lost myself. But I have worked hard to strengthen my mind and will, and I am ready for any challenge. Rest assured I will never lose myself like that again." "Your concerns are noted," Taris said to Aldreya and Lothrin. "But our situation is extremely desperate. No risk, perhaps, is too great at this point. I think forming a wall of protection around the White Flamestone is the best way to proceed. I believe that's how it was meant to be used." "But what if we find Dremlock already conquered?" said Shennen. "If the towers are occupied and many Divine Knights taken prisoner, we cannot simply sweep the kingdom with White Fire. It would be folly, for we would end up destroying our kingdom and any survivors with it." Jace sat down on a boulder and lit his pipe. "Yes, that is an issue. We would have to form a radically different plan--perhaps one of infiltration. Actually, that could work to our advantage. We are all much better fighters when in close quarters. We could liberate the kingdom from within. Then we could use the White Flamestone to fortify the wall as we had originally planned." "But how would we get into Dremlock?" asked Daledus. "Surely Darkender Tunnel, and the wall itself, would be heavily defended in preparation for our arrival." "We know of a way in," said Valedos. The other Dwarves of the Nine Axes nodded and mumbled in agreement. "There is a secret entrance in the mountains that leads through the mines--one of several, actually, that is sealed by bars of Glaetherin. The one I'm speaking of is easily accessed and leads to an exit inside Dremlock from the mountain wall. We would need to open a Wheel Lock, however." "Leave that to me," said Lannon. "Are you speaking of the entrance that leads to the Temple of Oracles?" Valedos' eyes widened. "You know of that route?" "I once used it to escape the mines," Lannon explained. "I was with him," said Trenton. "Though I barely it."

"You took a nasty blow to the head," Aldreya informed him. "It must have dulled your memory." "I it quite clearly," said Jerret, with a glance at Vorden. Vorden looked away. "There was also a huge nest of Dark Mother trees," said Lannon. "Yes," said Jace, "quite a nasty snare. I would prefer not to have to venture through that cavern again." "Willan Shadowwalker lost his life down there," Shennen said quietly, pain in his eyes. "He faced the darkness alone and never returned." "Yet Dremlock had its revenge," said Valedos. "The Dark Knights cleaned out that nest completely. Not a stinking root remains down there." "And what of Willan?" asked Shennen. Valedos shook his head. "His body was never found. He must have been devoured bones and all by the foul beasts." Shennen turned away, a troubled look on his face. Taris was thoughtful for a time. Then he said, "So in either case we know what must be done. Does anyone disagree?" "I would love to disagree," said Trenton, rolling his eyes. "But I don't have a better plan. In fact, I don't think one exists." "It is something to work with," said Shennen, with a shrug. "I believe Bellis has no answer for the White Flamestone--other than to try to slay the prince. They may even seek to assassinate him before we reach Dremlock, so we must be cautious--more so than ever before." "Indeed," said Jace. "If they were able to get to Cordus Landsaver, it's not out of the question that Vannas could meet an unpleasant end on this journey. We must watch everything day and night. If we lose the prince, we possibly lose this war."

The Dwarves had no objection to the plan. "Very well," said Taris. " Yet until we arrive and find out exactly what we're facing, it's all speculation." "Why not go to the Olrogs?" said Galvia, her expression full of youthful optimism. "We can ask them to us, for the sake of their future. They have a huge army and a lot of mighty siege engines." Taris smiled. "And why not visit the Birlotes as well? The answer is that I believe neither kingdom will commit to a war against Bellis right now. No, we are better off trying to save Dremlock on our own." "Taris is right," said Valedos. "The Olrogs will not this struggle, for King Verlamer has promised to leave them in peace and even signed a treaty. Until that treaty is broken, there is no chance the Dwarves will go to war. Personally, I believe it is foolish to place our trust in the signature of a mad king, but it is not my decision to make. Our king has absolute authority over such decisions-though he also had the of the Great Council." "It is foolish beyond belief!" said Jace, waving his arms wildly. "What a bunch of folly from those stubborn Olrogs. And the Birlotes are fools as well who may end up paying dearly for hiding away in their forest kingdom and hoping the troubles of the world do not find them. Mark my words--eventually Bellis will march to the edge of Borenthia preparing to lay siege." "Yet unlike the Olrogs," said Aldreya, "the Birlotes refused to sign the treaty." She spoke with pride in her voice. Jace waved dismissively. "Bah, I say! They might as well have signed. Doing nothing without a treaty is still doing nothing." Shennen gazed at Jace, his eyes showing a hint of anger. But he said nothing. Taris simply sighed and shook his head. *** Later, when the battalion had camped at the edge of an ancient forest for a rest and some lunch, Lannon found himself feeling restless. He wandered into the

woods, marveling at the beauty of it all, as the soft carpet of dead leaves beneath his boots was made pale by golden sunlight. Overhead, the small green leaves-not yet in full bloom--were rustled by merry birds, while black squirrels prowled the forest floor and mossy tree trucks. Everything seemed washed in the pale, warm sunlight, a world far away from the madness of war. Lannon drew his sword and practiced a bit, hacking at some rotten trees. He wondered what he would do if he found Dremlock captured. How much more bloodshed would have to occur to end the war? But it was difficult to focus on such things in this forest, and so Lannon quickly sheathed his sword and simply took to wandering around on a lazy afternoon. There was warmth and magic to be found here that pushed away the shadows and inspired pleasant thoughts. There was a glimpse of truth here that went beyond even the Eye of Divinity. As Lannon came across what seemed to be an ancient, leaf-covered path, three figures approached him. For a moment, he was gripped by fear and doubt--too shocked to even to draw his sword or summon the Eye. The figures were three giants--as large as Thallites but very different somehow. They seemed to possess power and strength that was very intimidating even to Lannon. They were magical beings of a race long forgotten--two men and a woman. The men wore green tunics and brown tros, and the girl wore a grey dress and a tall, pointy hat. They smiled at Lannon and spoke in jolly voices that filled him with delight. These were truly happy folk, with laughter in their hearts and a warm greeting for anyone that chance happened to put in their path. Rarely seen or talked about by other races, they lived freely throughout the land--few in numbers but mighty in stature. Lannon was amazed at his good fortune, and he wanted to spend as much time with them as possible. In fact, he would have wandered off with them for a while if they would have allowed it. But they preferred solitude. The woman's curly hair, hanging from beneath her hat, was as golden as the fallen leaves, and she held a basket of large white mushrooms in one hand. She offered some to Lannon, and he accepted. He intended to cook them, but then he saw her bite into one raw and he did the same. It was like biting into the sweetest fruit. It tasted nothing like any mushroom he'd ever eaten. Where did these strange mushrooms grow? Perhaps where only the giants could find them.

Laughing, one of the men patted Lannon on the back and whispered that he himself would have preferred a more hearty meal. Then the three giants moved off along the trail and disappeared from view. Lannon had been so overwhelmed by the encounter that he'd forgotten to use the Eye of Divinity, which could have revealed amazing truths about the three beings. Regardless, Lannon would say nothing of this encounter. It was just something one didn't talk about but never forgot. *** At Dremlock, Fadar Stonebow became fully aware of the grim shadow that had fallen over his kingdom. He was led to the North Tower Courtyard, where a massive crowd of Bellis' warriors was assembled. Also present were some of Bellis' Lords, Ladies, Wizards, and highest-ranking fighters seated at long wooden tables laden with food and drink. Vesselin Hopebringer and a few other Divine Knights stood nearby, their wrists in shackles. The acting Lord Knight's face was badly bruised, but his eyes held a determined look. The old man had received a beating, but his face showed an expression of serenity that Fadar didn't understand. King Verlamer sat down at the head of a table, with his Dragon crouched on the ground near him. He motioned for Fadar to sit as well. The Birlote hesitated, then took a seat. "Eat your fill, my friend," said King Verlamer, lifting meat, bread, and vegetables onto his platter. "I feel my guards have mistreated you. You deserve better." He poured wine into a large goblet. "Yes, I serve myself. I need no one to tend to me as if I were a child. I choose to live like any man would. Now eat!" Fadar refused to touch the food. Bellis was all about drums--large ones, small ones, colorful ones that gleamed with gold, silver, and precious gems, and one huge one that was rolled about on wheels and boomed like thunder. The drums would beat for a time and then a period of silence followed, over and over. Bellis' Knights stood in careful formation in honor of the king, some of them holding banners, as young women danced and did cartwheels in the grass. Three Knights in silver armor walked past, back and forth, carrying a large banner displaying a golden dragon. Bards

performed tricks and sang. Mock duels were fought with wooden swords. Under other circumstances, it would have been a festive scene to Fadar--who enjoyed celebrations. But all he could see was the ugliness of the loss of his kingdom to a tyrant. "You are the future of Dremlock, Fadar," said King Verlamer. "I want you to learn to love and respect me, to make me understand the ways of the Birlotes. You represent hope for the Divine Knights." His face darkened. "But only if you eat. I will take it as an insult if you do not." Fadar glanced at Vesselin Hopebringer and the others, then took some food. It would help no one to provoke Verlamer's wrath. "Your Lord Knight is too old to be of much use," said Verlamer. "I need a young Knight to help lead this kingdom. And so I turn to you, Fadar Stonebow. And you shall not refuse me, or you will bring needless suffering onto your brothers and sisters. Is that understood?" Fadar nodded. "What must I do?" He hated this game, for it made him feel like a traitor. But with Taris and Prince Vannas on the way, this was the time to remain reserved and play along. "You will help recruit for me," said King Verlamer. "Dremlock's Knights will make a wonderful addition to my army, but I only want those who will swear allegiance. It will be your duty to persuade them." "And if they refuse?" asked Fadar. The king sighed. "I hope they do not. It wouldn't be in their best interests. In fact, one of your Red Knights tried to spit on me and vowed he would rather die than bow before me. In fact, he said he hoped he would get a chance to lop off my head with his axe. It was a rather unpleasant experience." The king tore into some meat. His otherwise flawless set of white teeth were a bit pointed. Juice ran down his beard and he wiped it away with his sleeve. "Sad, really. I'm not the tyrant he made me out to be. But if he wants to take his axe to me, then I am ready." "Who is the Red Knight?" asked Fadar. "Talfos Wolfheart," said the King. He pointed at a huge, dark-skinned, bearded

warrior who stood in shackles. "One of Dremlock's best. What a pity." Talfos was known as a brash Knight, and ever since Thrake Wolfaxe--his brother--had fallen victim to the Deep Shadow, Talfos had become even more sullen and fearless. He was one of Dremlock's most skilled warriors, yet Fadar sensed that King Verlamer intended to have him executed for his defiance. But the king surprised him. "I love duels," said Verlamer, smiling. "I partake in them whenever I find a worthy opponent. I have studied some of the greatest duels ever to take place on Gallamerth--many of them involving the Divine Knights." A gleam appeared in his eye. "Some even involved Dremlock's very own Dark Watchmen, who in my opinion were the greatest warriors to ever walk the land. I have personally killed eighteen warriors in duels. Yes, eighteen! All very powerful and respected. Have you ever fought a duel?" Fadar shook his head. "I am an archer." "Of course," said King Verlamer, frowning. "No archer would partake in a duel unless it involved target practice, and I assure you such tests of skill do not interest me. I prefer honorable combat." "And no one objects?" said Fadar. "I have the bloodline of kings," said Verlamer. "We fight our own battles, and Bellis law allows us to choose our opponents. True, there are times when the Lords and Ladies of my kingdom voice strong objection over me throwing myself into battle, but I have the final say." He bellowed laughter. "I'm all grown up, Fadar, and can make my own decisions! Actually, I'm more than seventy years old--though I bet I don't look it. My bloodline causes me to age rather slowly. I am actually still quite young and strong--in a relative sense." "You don't look a day over forty," said Fadar, and he meant it. "I can live hundreds of years," said Verlamer. "In fact, no King of Bellis has ever lived to the end of his natural lifespan. All of them were murdered!" He laughed until his eyes watered, then gulped some wine. "Yes, murdered. Of course, I am smarter than they were, and I know how to avoid that fate." Do you? Fadar thought. Or are you just blinded to the truth by insanity?

"I am the strongest and wisest of all," said Verlamer. "It is my destiny to rule all of Gallamerth and even the lands beyond the sea." Insanity, indeed, thought Fadar. Verlamer's ego was appalling. Yet somehow Verlamer had enslaved most of Gallamerth. His words were not just an absurd boast. He fully intended to rule the world. The king emptied his goblet and slammed it down. "Now you can watch as I deal with Talfos--in a duel to the death. Enjoy the entertainment." Verlamer rose and approached the shackled Knights, as the crowd cheered. He waved to his subjects, grinning. Then he drew his jeweled dagger. "Such a beautiful day for bloodshed!" he called out. "This fight will be in honor of my latest conquest. I will bless the soil with Knightly blood!" Again, the crowd cheered, but a few of the Lords and Ladies that sat at the tables frowned. Clearly, they disapproved of this action but were powerless to prevent it. They were large, colorfully dressed men and women being fanned by servants and indulging in all manner of food and drink. Unlike King Verlamer, they carried no weapons and expected to be waited on. They had the look of petty, snobby folk used to having their every need met in an instant. Talfos' shackles were unlocked, and he was given his armor and great battle axe. He faced King Verlamer boldly, his eyes fierce. Although the king was a bit taller and more broad of shoulder, Talfos was an intimidating warrior with his rippling muscles and savage gaze. Talfos was a Red Knight all the way, filled with a love of brutal combat and a stubborn spirit. Fadar wondered if the king was making a huge mistake. Talfos Wolfheart was no one to fool with. Why would the king risk his life just to prove himself in combat? And why was he using only a dagger against a heavy battle axe? It seemed to be further evidence of Verlamer's deep insanity. "My friends!" the king shouted. "Talfos Wolfheart wishes to kill me, and I have given him the chance. He can avenge his kingdom and his fallen brothers and sisters. If I lose this battle, Bellis must withdraw from Dremlock and never trouble this kingdom again. Yet if I win, I take only his life." The Bellis Lords muttered to each other, looking very unhappy. A few warriors in the crowd clapped, but otherwise there was a nervous silence. The Wizards

whispered to each other and shook their heads. Fadar's heart raced. The king had just given an order and was about to engage in honorable combat. If Talfos prevailed, would Dremlock truly be liberated? Surely someone of Verlamer's stature wouldn't engage in petty lies. He prayed to the Divine Essence that Talfos would end this here and now. A horn was blown, and the two circled each other. Talfos immediately went on the attack, swinging at the king's neck. Verlamer struck the axe handle with his arm and knocked it aside. Then he shoved Talfos back. Verlamer laughed. "A good blow, but not enough!" He twirled the jeweled dagger in his fingers and then sheathed it. Fadar's eyes widened. Surely the king had utterly lost his wits. Talfos hesitated, glowering. "Draw your blade!" "I don't need it," said the king. "I will fight with my fists alone." "You're a fool!" Talfos bellowed, and he channeled his sorcery into his axe. The axe smoldered with crimson flames. "Die by the Divine Essence!" He charged, the burning axe lashing out for the kill. Fadar tensed up, certain Talfos was about to be victorious. But King Verlamer seized the burning axe in one hand and the flames died out. He ripped the weapon from Talfos' hand and flung it aside. Then he seized Talfos by the throat, all the while laughing gleefully. Talfos punched the king in the face with shattering force, snapping his head back. The blow might have killed a lesser warrior, but aside from looking slightly dazed for an instant, the king only grinned in response. "You're stronger than I thought. A fine blow, but still not enough!" Talfos fought viciously to break the choke hold. Verlamer retaliated--his bony fist slamming into Talfos' jaw and knocking the warrior onto his back. Verlamer stood over him, gloating.

"Get on your feet, Red Knight!" he shouted. Shaking his head to clear it, Talfos rose and tried to punch the king again. It was a swift strike, but Verlamer deflected it with his arm. Verlamer's fist drove into Talfos' stomach, knocking the wind from him. Talfos doubled over for a moment, gasping for breath. The king stepped back and raised his fists. "I'm loving this! You wanted to kill me? Well, come and get some more!" With a roar, Talfos charged--seeking to get Verlamer in a bear hug. But the king sidestepped him and punched Talfos in the side of the head with a glancing blow. Talfos staggered and almost went down, but then turned to retaliate. But Verlamer was ready--his fist driving into Talfos' forehead. It was a flawless and mighty blow that cracked bone. Talfos dropped to the ground. "This was a good duel!" the king shouted, his face lit up with joy. Then, showing his massive strength, he lifted Talfos' limp form into the air by the throat and finished him off. He flung the slain Knight aside. The crowd roared its approval. Fadar's heart sank. Talfos had been a mighty warrior and a friend to Fadar. He'd died with honor. King Verlamer gazed down at the dead Knight. "You fought well and deserve your rest." Then he focused on the crowd. "Talfos Wolfheart hated me, but he was strong of limb and spirit. He served his god and his kingdom well. Let us have a moment of silence in honor of this Divine Knight." Everyone bowed their heads. But Vesselin Hopebringer shouted, "Savage monster! You knew he could not defeat you. You take pleasure in killing those who are weaker." Verlamer's face contorted with rage. "Is that so, old man? Then why did I sheath my blade? It's because I wanted a challenge! It's not my fault I can never find one. No one has ever come close to defeating me, yet still I try." Verlamer strode over to Vesselin and shoved him to his knees. "Your Lord Knight is a pathetic old fool!" he said to the other Divine Knights. "Not only did he surrender like a coward, but now he chastises me for engaging in an

honorable duel. He is a wretch with no spine! I would do him a favor by ending his miserable life here and now. This calls for an execution!" Three Golden Knights of Bellis emerged from the crowd of warriors, their swords held ready. These Guardians were nearly invincible in their armor. They were also the executioners of Bellis. Verlamer pushed Vesselin forward, exposing the back of his neck. "Shall we cut off his head for daring to insult me?" The crowd gave their approval. But Verlamer simply shoved him into the dirt. "It would be a waste of time killing this sorry sod. It would bring me no glory. This kingdom will soon bow to my will, or it will be washed in the blood of fools!" Fadar was overcome by misery. Where were Taris, Vannas, and the White Flamestone? How many more legendary Knights would die before they arrived at Dremlock? Again, he prayed to the Divine Essence, but he wondered if his god was even listening or could do anything to help beyond what it had already done. His prayers had done nothing to save Talfos. King Verlamer returned to the table, but his mood seemed to have changed--as if Vesselin Hopebringer's words had brought out the worst in him. "I have no time for discussion with you, Fadar. You will be escorted back to your cell and await further instructions. I have much to do." His bony hand knotted into a fist. "Yes, much to do. I have lessons to teach, and some of them may be harsh." It seemed Fadar's importance to the king had suddenly diminished. Fadar's instincts told him he wouldn't be seeing much of Verlamer again. He wondered how long he would be forced to wallow in his miserable dungeon. The courtyard was overflowing with the armored Knights of Bellis, and thousands more filled the kingdom and the mountainside beyond. It was the darkest day of Fadar Stonebow's life.

Chapter 19: The Gloomy Depths

At one point during the return journey, Taris' battalion received news that Dremlock had fallen. The mood turned grim amongst the riders, and no one spoke much. They had to struggle to accept the fact that for the first time in its long history, Dremlock Kingdom had been conquered. Like most of Gallamerth, it belonged to King Verlamer now. When they paused for dinner, Taris called a meeting to discuss the situation. But the sorcerer didn't seem eager to talk about it. He looked weary and in pain from his dark wounds. "Our greatest fears have come to ," he said. "I could spend time lamenting how foolish it was to journey to Kalamede, but that would be pointless. What's done is done. Now we must focus on the future." Taris stood before the crowd. Everyone else was seated in the soft grass of a large clearing, as the horses grazed nearby. Lannon was miserable and restless, wanting to do something immediately, but he would have to be patient. It seemed like a huge piece of his existence had been torn away. His god and his kingdom had been taken from him by a man, and anger toward King Verlamer gripped his heart. Expressions of grief and despair were all around him, while the Grey Dwarves showed only the anger Lannon was feeling. But Prince Vannas never wavered. "Dremlock has not truly fallen until I am dead or the White Flamestone has gone to our enemies. And neither has happened yet. Therefore, the war for Dremlock is not over." "You speak true," said Taris. "And your attitude is the proper one. As long as the Divine Essence lives on, we are obligated to fight for its freedom. The spirit of Dremlock exists with our god--not with buildings or resources. Even if the entire kingdom is rubble when he arrive, there is still a war to be fought." "This has been coming for sometime," said Jace. "The threat of Bellis--this war-was inevitable. Dremlock did all it could to prepare, but how can you really prepare for an enemy that will swarm on you like an ocean? I agree with Prince

Vannas. Only the Flamestones can overcome Bellis now." "The mountain road will be heavily guarded," said Taris. "We will have to abandon our horses and sneak through the forest on foot. We will need a smaller, less visible party, and so some of us will have to remain behind. Once we enter the kingdom, our goal will be one of combat. Will we seek to cleanse the kingdom of the invaders, while freeing any Knights being held prisoner. If Darkender Tunnel has somehow been opened, we will also seek to seal it off again. Then Prince Vannas will take position atop the wall to fortify it." "In my expert opinion," said Jace, "we can succeed if we do things the right way. Lannon, you must be well rested and ready to protect the prince at all costs. Therefore, I suggest you refrain from using your power unless absolutely necessary. Eat hearty meals and get plenty of sleep. Trenton, when the time is right, we will need some help from your beastly friend, if I may speak freely on the topic. In fact, your ability may be as important as anything else to the fate of Dremlock. So don't hold back, if you get my meaning." Trenton sighed. "It's not a topic I'm fond of, but considering the circumstances, I will speak of it. Giving myself to the beast too much, and for too long, is terrifying and dangerous. I risk losing myself forever. The beast's will is very strong. I am essentially forcing an evil creature to serve a noble purpose, and that is always a perilous game that few ever win. But with Dremlock Kingdom at stake, no risk is too great." "Never give up hope, my friends," said Taris. "Our foes are mortal. Even Bellis' so-called god is mortal. I'm sure of it. And mortals can be defeated, however vast their numbers. We have a group of extremely powerful fighters here--some of the best in all the land. We have unique talents. Rest assured that Bellis fears us and will be fretting over our arrival. We are the hope of Dremlock." The meeting was called to an end. Lannon rose and wandered about restlessly in the grass. So the plan was more bloodshed. It always seemed to come down to that. But perhaps there was a way bloodshed could be avoided. It would require finding a way to deal with King Verlamer. Yet how could he get close enough to the king to try to understand him or reason with him? And was the king even susceptible to influence? Surely countless others had tried to persuade Verlamer to give up his mad scheme of

conquering the world. Why should Lannon succeed when so many others had failed? The king wouldn't just walk away from Dremlock. Maybe bloodshed was the only option, as sad as that seemed. If so, the Divine Shield was certainly capable of causing much carnage. But Lannon continuously refused to give up hope that a peaceful solution could be found to every problem, even as he ended up fighting one battle after the next. *** Despite their fears of an assassination attempt on Prince Vannas, the journey to Dremlock went smoothly. Some of Bellis' winged spies kept an eye on them, circling in the distance, but otherwise they encountered no sign of King Verlamer's forces. With some careful maneuvering through forests, they were able to elude the spies as they drew close to Dremlock. Still, they knew Bellis would be well prepared for their arrival and would certainly have some kind of plan ready for the White Flamestone that undoubtedly involved a clever trap or two. They arrived at the Firepit Mountains in late afternoon, and they decided to camp until evening in a stretch of forest so they could scale the mountainside under cover of darkness. There was no doubt in their minds that Bellis was watching for them. The mountainside was crawling with King Verlamer's warriors--armed with crossbows and other ranged weapons in preparation for Prince Vannas. It was no secret that a single arrow could end the threat of the White Flamestone, and the mountain allowed for many hiding places from which an ambush could occur. They decided that the Divine Shield, the Dark Knights, and ten more Knights would make for the mines, while the rest would stay below with the wagons. They stood amongst the trees, as the blue of the sky deepened above the branches and a few stars appeared. The woods were quiet around them, but from higher up along the mountain came the sounds of merrymaking, shouts, booming drums, and other loud noises from the massive army--including what sounded like huge trees being felled. Fires were blazing above, and the smell of smoke reached their nostrils. "King Verlamer is mine!" Shennen snarled, his hand wrapped tightly around his Flayer. The master assassin seemed gripped by sudden rage, his eyes gleaming

with malice from the shadows. No one dared reply. They simply let his anger smolder. "It may be our final evening in this world," said Trenton, bowing his head. "If so, I want it be known that we part ways and friends and brothers." "And sisters," said Aldreya, smiling. Two of the female Knights--and Dallsa--laughed and spoke in agreement. "I'm ready to die," Daledus grunted. "Sort of..." Jace chuckled and had a quick smoke of his pipe. "Let's not be overly dramatic, my friends. I for one have no plans to die this night. To be captured and tortured brutally--yes--but no plans to die." He blew a perfect smoke ring and gazed at it in amazement. "I'll take that as a good sign for us!" Jerret slashed the smoke ring into ruin with his broadsword. "I don't need omens or luck. My blade is enough." "Spoken like a true Red Knight," Jace muttered. "I can't wait to meet your baby brother. I hear he's as strong and stubborn as you are." Jerret's eyes widened. "You know of my family?" "You talk in your sleep, Jerret," said Aldreya. "We know you have a little brother named Anthor who is quite undisciplined and breaks things." Jerret grinned. "Anthor is quite a terror. He already thinks he's a Knight--if beating up everything with sticks qualifies. I have never seen such a strong and determined lad. He takes after my father. He's only my half brother, though. My mother died shortly after giving birth to me." "I'm guessing your father is quite stubborn," said Galvia, "and bold. Are you sure you're not part Dwarf?" Jerret rubbed his chin, which bore only stubble. "My beard grows too slowly and too thin for that. Also, my mother was definitely Norack like me. Oh, and everyone knows a Dwarf and Norack marriage produces no children."

"Are you certain of that?" said Jace. "Yes, I am," said Jerret, frowning. "Have you ever met an Olrog who wasn't fully an Olrog? I've never heard of such a thing." "I have to agree with Jerret," said Daledus. "Olrog blood cannot be mixed with the other races. We were altered by Tharnin long ago." But Jace only smiled and said nothing. "Dwarf or not," said Galvia, "you are one of the best fighters I've ever met, Jerret. I am proud to go into this battle with you." "I agree," said Vorden. "Yet you were lazy when I first met you, Jerret. It seemed you barely wanted to be a Knight. What happened? The truth is you had me beaten in that duel. It really hurt my pride, though I didn't show it." Lannon wondered how Vorden felt about their last duel. He was certain Vorden must hold some resentment toward him, but the Squire never showed it. Jerret shrugged. "I had to find myself. I have done so." Vorden patted Jerret on the back. "Truthfully, you have sured my expectations and become a great Knight." "Excellent," said Taris, looking amused. "I am always glad to hear when a Knight has discovered what he or she was meant to be. And if we survive this, Jerret, perhaps you can bring young Anthor to Dremlock so we can recruit him. It sounds as if he is Knightly material all the way." "Oh, he is," said Jerret, nodding. "He really is like a Grey Dwarf. Loves to fight with his fists. That's why he has no friends." The Knights chuckled. Then the mood grew somber again. "If we fail to liberate Dremlock," said Taris, "those who remain behind will be the last hope for our kingdom. You will ride to Borenthia and tell them that Prince Vannas has been captured by Bellis and possibly even killed. That may be

enough to persuade the Birlotes to go to war." "Do I have to stay behind, Lannon?" asked Dallsa. "No offense to these other warriors, but I feel safest by your side." "Don't worry," Lannon said, "these Knights will look after you. They are all highly respected at Dremlock. And this mission is far too dangerous for you to be involved in. This is for the fate of our kingdom." She nodded. "I understand." The Knights who were chosen to stay with the wagons bowed to Taris. Dallsa did the same. And then the two groups parted ways. *** Moving as quietly as possible, the Knights made their way up the mountainside. It was a long, slow, and perilous journey. They carried lanterns that emitted only a small amount of light to minimize the risk of discovery. At times the terrain was steep, with loose boulders and logs here and there and plenty of gnarled roots for tripping over. They held formation around Prince Vannas, who kept the black pouch that contained the White Flamestone in hand. Lannon scanned for enemies, while Shennen and Lothrin slipped off into the darkness periodically to do some scouting around. They were ready for war, knowing that thousands of soldiers could swarm on them at any time. They were certain Bellis would either attempt to kill Prince Vannas by means of an ambush, or King Verlamer's warriors would simply charge down on them and try to take them by force of numbers. Lothrin had taken off his boots, and he raced silently along logs and up tree trunks, searching for enemies. He was like a fleeting shadow in the woods, his climbing skills and speed astonishing even for a Birlote. The Blue Knights and sorcerers moved silently. Even Jace, in spite of his huge size, somehow navigated the forest with quiet precision. The Dwarves and Red Knights, however, made plenty of noise--crashing through underbrush, panting, and grunting. Their armor and weapons clanked, and whenever one stumbled or bumped something curses were muttered.

Daledus slipped on a loose rock and lost his grip on his axe. He grumbled as Galvia tripped over him and crashed into Aldreya, who caught her. "Sorry," Daledus muttered. The Dark Knights did not fare much better. They were so heavily armored that stealth was impossible. In spite of their best efforts, they were like squat boulders crashing through the woods. "I'm expecting an ambush," Jace whispered to Taris, after they had climbed about halfway to their goal. "I highly doubt they'll try to overpower us here in the forest." "Why do you think that?" asked Taris. Lannon also wondered why Jace believed that. In fact, Lannon was amazed that Bellis hadn't been waiting for them right at the base of the mountain. King Verlamer had a massive army to throw against them, so why not use it? "Because of what happened last time," Jace explained. "The White Flamestone brutalized them. They found out just how powerful it is on the battlefield. They fear it. King Verlamer is no fool. He knows he only has to kill Prince Vannas to end the threat. And that knowledge heavily favors a quiet ambush." "Does it?" Taris whispered back. "Thousands of warriors charging at the prince might be a better way to end the threat." Jace paused for breath, leaning his huge form against a pine. "I disagree. Thousands of warriors can burn in White Fire, too. , they tried to get to the prince the last time and failed. Even their Thallite giants couldn't manage it. That sort of thing sticks with a leader. Verlamer won't use that strategy again. You see--I happen to know how he thinks." "Are you related to him?" asked Taris, with a wry smile. "In a manner of speaking, yes," Jace replied. "I share his bloodline. However, I am not recognized as royalty by any means. Nor would the king do anything but sneer at my ancestry. It is rather complicated." Taris raised his eyebrows. "So you too are a descendant of Althustus the

Dragonforged. That's explains a lot about you, right down to the madness. That's quite a powerful bloodline of sorcery." "There are a few of us still around these days," said Jace. He frowned. "Madness? Nonsense! Althustus was a genius with a sober mind. And most of my sorcery is actually self-taught, unlike that of King Verlamer--although it certainly helps to have an affinity for it that goes beyond that of most Noracks. Like Verlamer, I am a descendant of Althustus--and certainly my great physical stature tells the tale--but I assure you in many ways I am quite different from the King of Bellis. His inherited gifts are more powerful and much closer to the source." "I think I understand," said Taris. "At least, to a small degree." Jace shrugged. "As I said, it is complicated. But I do know that Verlamer is more of a sorcerer by bloodline than anything else. His power was there from birth, whereas I had to work hard to develop mine. That, and I don't rule over most of Gallamerth either. But I do have a few unique traits and talents that you won't find in anyone else." Taris smiled. "I'm sure you do. And I'm assuming those talents have nothing to do with smoke rings or a taste for good pipe tobacco." "Nothing at all," Jace agreed. "I can't believe what I'm hearing," said Aldreya. "You're actually related to the King of Bellis? That's astounding, Uncle Jace!" Jace sighed. "Very distantly. And as I said, it wouldn't even be officially recognized by Bellis. In fact, it's quite amazing that I inherited some of the same gifts as Verlamer. The odds are very much against it. Also, I was born in poverty and I've had to struggle to earn my way in the world." Shennen materialized from the shadows, his grim mood having momentarily given way to a look of amusement. "Maybe you could convince Verlamer you're his long lost brother. You look like him, minus the beard." Jace grinned. "And with that plan, it would soon be minus my head. I think not. I like the plan we've already decided upon."

"This is no joke, though," said Taris. "The descendants of Althustus the Dragonforged are a strange lot capable of amazing feats. I knew you were a powerful sorcerer, Jace, but I didn't realize you were on that level." Jace waved dismissively. "Think nothing of it. As I said, the bloodline has all but vanished from the land. There are only a few of us left who possess the gifts, and those gifts are diminished since the age of Althustus. Verlamer is the exception-a true warrior with the Blood of Kings in his veins. If you want to look upon a talented sorcerer, look no further than yourself or Trenton here." "I'm not that talented," said Trenton. "Hmm..." said Jace. "Not that talented, you say? Yet you've unlocked an ability that only the greatest sorcerers have unlocked--sorcerers who were all much older than yourself. That tells me something about you." "And what does it tell you?" asked Trenton. "It tells me," said Jace, "that you dedicated your life to one type of sorcery. You narrowed your focus in order to access it." Trenton nodded, his eyes shining in the lantern light. "You are correct. In many ways, I am a weak sorcerer. But I worked very hard to possess this one great power, which has served me well. It is really the only sorcery I have use of, aside from the typical Knightly fire. Now, I've heard this talk before about my supposed talent, and it makes me uncomfortable. I prefer to view it as hard work. And I wish only to be known as a great Knight and a great Investigator." "Only that?" mused Shennen, and the others laughed. After that, Shennen vanished silently into the shadows again. To the surprise of the Divine Knights, they encountered no ambush on the journey up the mountain. In fact, they saw no sign of Bells' warriors. The woods seemed eerily empty as they climbed. "This is quite perplexing," said Jace. "Perhaps the ambush awaits us in the mines," said Taris, "or in the kingdom itself. Or perhaps they simply lost sight of us. We did manage to elude their winged spies, and the wooded slopes are quite dense and hard to climb."

"I find that difficult to believe," said Trenton. "King Verlamer has enough warriors that they should be wandering all over the mountainside searching for us. Yet we see none of them. No, there is something else going on here." "I agree," said Jace. "Something is odd." "Not much we can do about it," said Daledus, "other than to keep moving. We'll find out soon enough." "I don't see any danger," said Lannon. "Just a few harmless forest animals prowling about. Of course, my range is limited." "Keep searching, Lannon," said Taris. "If there is a trap, you will be the one to discover it. You must try to look deeper with the Eye than ever before, to glimpse anything that will give us an advantage." "I'll do my best," said Lannon. He intensified his gaze, but there was still only the rocks, trees, and animals to greet him. *** At last they came to the cavern entrance in the mountain wall. Not far along the tunnel were bars of Glaetherin protected by a Wheel Lock. The shadowy mouth of the cavern seemed gloomy in the lantern light, promising a path to the dreary mines and the curse of the Deep Shadow. Overhead, an ocean of stars burned in the night sky, with a few of the great pines outlined darkly against it. A strong breeze reached them here, and the pines swayed and creaked. This was their last taste of fresh air for a while, and they paused for a moment to savor it. "I can't believe this," said Valedos. "We made it here unscathed. I had expected a bitter battle on the mountainside, to say the least." Prince Vannas nodded. "During the entire journey up the slopes, I was ready for war to break out." He wiggled his fingers and grimaced. "My hand hurts from clutching the Flamestone so tightly." "Relax, cousin," said Lothrin. "You will wear yourself out before the battle even begins." "I'm fine," said Vannas, glaring at him. "I know my limits."

"Are you sure?" said Lothrin, giving him a piercing gaze. "As sure as can be," said Vannas. "So stop worrying about me constantly and pretending to be so wise. You're just a Ranger, and you don't know everything. It gets overbearing at times. You're like an annoying older brother." "Yet you are a Prince of Borenthia," said Lothrin, "and a friend and relative. Of course I'm going to worry about you. One of my duties is to look after you. And I never said I was wise." "I don't need it!" Vannas snarled, his frustration boiling over. "I only ask for your protection in battle. Otherwise, I can look after myself." Vorden stepped between them, pushing them apart. "Enough of this nonsense. This isn't the time for bickering." Lothrin shoved Vorden's arm away. "This is between me and the prince, so I must ask that you not interfere." His eyes narrowing, Vorden pushed close to Lothrin and the two stared each other down, their hands knotted into fists. The Dwarves watched them intently, anticipating a fight. "That's enough!" said Lannon. Seeing his friends quarrel left him feeling weary. There was too much at stake for such petty disputes. Taris gazed purposefully at Aldreya, and she quickly seized Lothrin's shoulder. "All of you--stop talking to each other. Act like Knights!" They bowed and moved away from each other--though Vorden and Lothrin exchanged another angry glance. "The mountainside lies barren," said Shennen, who'd ignored the dispute and stood in thoughtful silence. "As if King Verlamer doesn't care that the White Flamestone is approaching. That is very strange." "Yes," said Jace, peering into the tunnel. "It is quite troubling." "Or it could simply be good fortune," said Trenton.

"I highly doubt it," said Jace. "Either we were very lucky," said Shennen, "or the ambush will occur in the mines. Bellis has had plenty of time to prepare for our arrival. Regardless, we're just a Wheel Lock away from home." That was Lannon's cue to act. He walked into the cavern, a silent shadow beneath his hooded cloak. A thrill surged through him. The last of the Dark Watchman had come home to Dremlock, his sword at his side. This was the gateway to war and bloodshed--something his predecessors in their corruption might have relished. To Lannon, it was a path into a darkness that he wanted no part of. But duty demanded he push on. He hesitated and then spun the wheel until it clicked. Then, knowing there was no turning back, he pulled open the gate. "So it begins," Shennen whispered, his deadly Flayer in one hand and his short sword in the other. The look in his eyes was frightening--like that of a predator stalking its prey. The elite assassin was on the hunt. The others were glad they were not foes of the Blue Knight. "Now our enemies will know fear!" growled Daledus. "They dared to invade our kingdom and plant their banner upon our soil. And for that crime they will feel the bitter sting of our blades, delivered without mercy!" Valedos and the Nine Axes mumbled their approval. Lannon had nothing to say. The Dwarves were who they were, and he wasn't going to change their thinking. They had come for bloodshed and nothing would satisfy them except brutal warfare. Jace gazed up at the stars and took a deep breath of the fresh, crisp mountain air. Then he strode into the cave. The others followed. Lannon hesitated beyond the gate. "Close it," Taris commanded, once everyone had ed through. "If Bellis' warriors pick up our trail, they will come in after us. We could end up being

squeezed from two directions." "Yet if Lannon dies or is captured," said Trenton, "we'll have no easy way out. Are you sure this is a wise decision?" Taris said nothing, his gaze fixed on Lannon. Lannon bowed and then sealed the gate. They left their lanterns behind and instead produced brighter Birlote torches. The time for stealth was ended. They had come to cleanse Dremlock of Bellis' warriors and had no need to hide themselves. They followed the tunnel until they reached the Temple of Oracles. The tunnel ended at an iron door, which was engraved with an image of a wolf's head with moonlight shining upon it. The wolf's tongue hung out, displaying three Dwarven runes that signified prophecy. The door was unlocked. Before they entered, Lannon scanned the interior with the Eye. He glimpsed six of Bellis' Golden Knights standing within by the altar, their swords drawn. These warriors were engulfed in mighty armor from head to toe, their helms secured by latches. "Six Guardians!" Lannon whispered. "Waiting to ambush us!" "Only six?" said Daledus. "Why do we hesitate?" "Guardians are deadly foes," said Taris. "They must be waiting to attack Prince Vannas. It seems King Verlamer knows of these ageways through the mines. He must have studied the books in the Deep Forge. The king has wasted no time in unlocking our secrets." "We should leave the prince out here," said Jace, "guarded by the Knights. The rest of the Divine Shield can take care of these foes." "Let the Nine Axes deal with them," said Valedos. But Taris shook his head. "Your time will come, Valedos. But these armored warriors will not easily yield even to your weapons. This is a task for sorcerers and agile Blue Knights." "To leave me out of the fight is folly!" said Vannas. "Their armor cannot

withstand the White Flamestone." "Don't be a fool," Taris muttered. "The trap waits for you, young prince. Will you then blunder into it?" "Stay behind, my friend," said Lannon, seizing his shoulder. "We need to keep you alive and unharmed for when the greater battle begins." Vannas nodded, but still looked unhappy. The Divine Shield and three Blue Knights gathered by the door. They were tightly packed into the tunnel, the sounds of their breathing loud in the still air as they waited for Taris to make his move. Lannon felt closed in, wishing there was more space around him. Jace stood next to him and all Lannon could see was a wall of purple cloak that seemed to smother him. Taris yanked the door open and stepped inside, his stone dagger burning white hot and blinding to look upon. The others followed, including Galvia and Jerret. Aldreya turned to the two Red Knights and motioned them back. "You heard Taris. Only Blue Knights--" She was interrupted by the sounds of battle, and she whirled around to find the others engaged in combat with the Golden Knights. Jerret and Galvia shoved past her and charged into the room. Daledus entered next, barreling into her and knocking her further into the room. He yanked the door shut. A Guardian charged at Lannon, but the Dark Watchman kept his sword sheathed. Lannon knew how to deal with these foes from past experience. Lannon stepped back and dodged a sword stroke aimed at his neck. He then seized the sword hilt and ripped the weapon from the Guardian's hand. Lannon hurled the blade aside, then grabbed the Golden Knight's neck and yanked him to his knees. Meanwhile, Shennen got behind the Guardian and swiftly unlatched the helm. The Guardian punched Lannon in the abdomen--hard enough that the breath was driven from him. It had been a short, awkward punch, but the impact from the armored fist was still enough to make him feel like his midsection had just been caved in. Nevertheless, Lannon refused to let go.

As Shennen worked at the helm, chills crept over Lannon. He didn't want to see the face that lay under there. Nevertheless, as the helm came off he gazed at the reptilian horror beneath. Its snake-like eyes--which were only inches away from Lannon's eyes--sought to hypnotize Lannon into submission, but he resisted. Then Shennen beheaded the creature from behind, the tip of his Flayer coming uncomfortably close to Lannon's chin. Lannon rose and stood clutching his abdomen, trying to get his breath back before he was forced to fight again. Meanwhile, Taris slew one foe with a massive fireball that struck a Guardian in the chest and exploded into buzzing sparks that clung to the golden armor. The sparks generated so much heat the others shrank back. The Guardian burned to ash inside his armor, and the empty, smoking armor toppled to the floor. As the sparks buzzed around, fizzling out, Lannon was forced to roll out of the way of one that flew at his chest. Still winded, he lay gasping for breath on the floor. One of the dying sparks landed in Daledus' beard and lit it on fire. With a howl, the dwarf smothered the flames with his arms as he ran in a random direction and ended up tripping over Lannon and falling into an iron bench, knocking it crooked. Jace bashed one of the Guardians on the helm with his fist, and the warrior seemed to go mad, staggering about and lashing out wildly with his sword. Jerret ducked a crazed swing and hacked at the wounded Guardian with his broadsword, but the weapon only glanced off. Another wild stroke split Jerret's armor and ripped a deep gash in his shoulder, causing him to bellow in pain. Galvia charged in to help, driving her blazing hammer down on the Guardian's helm. That vicious blow, along with the one Jace had inflicted, dropped the Golden Knight to the floor. Lothrin knelt and swiftly unlatched the helm, and then Aldreya hurled a fireball into the creature's face. To make sure it was dead, Jerret beheaded it. Vorden was left facing a Guardian on his own. The Squire had donned his helm, and like the warrior he faced, he was engulfed in nearly impenetrable armor. The two fighters' swords clashed together several times, and then Vorden shoved the warrior against the wall hard enough to crack a stone block. Vorden's sword blazed crimson with sorcery, and little shadows moved back and forth along it like spiders creeping across the strands of webs. As the swords clashed again, Vorden's blade cut through the Golden Knight's blade. The Guardian dropped the

severed sword and attacked with his armored fist, but Vorden again shoved him back--and this time Vorden's glowing blade lashed out and cut through the armor and deep into the Guardian's neck. The Guardian dropped to the floor and lay still. For a moment, Vorden stood as still as a statue--as if stunned at the way he'd dispatched his foe. He gazed at his glowing sword. Another Guardian lunged at Vorden from behind, knocking off his helm with an uppercut. Vorden whirled around--but he was a bit too slow in blocking a sword stroke. Vorden managed to partially block the blade with his forearm, but it tore a gash in his neck. As blood poured from the wound, the fire died in Vorden's blade. Nevertheless, he pushed forward and drove the Guardian back. Shennen and another Blue Knight (named Bekka Nightspear) moved to assist Vorden and tried to remove the Guardian's helm. Shennen distracted the foe while Bekka leapt on the Guardian's back and pulled at the latches. As Vorden retreated, clutching his bleeding neck, the other Blue Knight--Zander Hawkborn-rushed over to help but failed to watch his flank. Despite a cry of warning from Bekka, a golden sword pierced his heart and he was killed instantly. With a cry of frustration, Bekka continued pulling at the latches. Meanwhile, another Guardian broke free of Jace's grasp and charged her--his sword poised to stab her in the back. Lannon seized the Guardian with the Eye and froze him for a moment, while Lothrin raced over and kicked the Guardian in the head with a spectacular, flying leap that knocked the warrior to the floor. Lothrin tried to plunge his dagger into the golden helm's eye holes, but something unseen deflected it. He then tried to stab through the creases in the armor--again to no avail. He leapt away, shaking his head in amazement, as the Guardian rose again. But Taris Warhawk was ready. He hurtled forward and shoved his hand against the Guardian's helm, and the warrior shuddered beneath his grasp. A greenish glow engulfed Taris' body--a glow that typically was only seen radiating from a Birlote Wizard--and smoke poured out of the helm. When the glow faded, Taris shoved the dead Guardian to the floor. Yet the sorcerer suddenly looked weary, his energy momentarily depleted. The fire in his blade went from white to a weaker green. Daledus and a Guardian charged each other. Daledus was in a fit of berserk rage,

his beard partially burned away and still releasing thin wisps of smoke. He delivered a chilling battle cry as he charged. The Dwarf's oversized axe smashed into the Guardian's sword and dislodged it from the warrior's hand with a clanging of metal. The Guardian responded by ripping Daledus' axe away and tossing it behind the Altar. The Guardian struck with his gauntlet-covered fist--a glancing blow to Daledus jaw that staggered the Dwarf. With a roar, Daledus struck back--punching the warrior in his golden helm and knocking him flat onto his back. Daledus rubbed his knuckles, as the Guardian rose. They then grappled for a moment--the mighty Dwarf against the large, muscular warrior who possessed inhuman strength. They squeezed each other viciously, and neither gave way. Finally they broke apart, panting--though Daledus looked to be in pain. "This one is mine!" Daledus shouted to the others. Dwarf and Guardian grappled again, and both went down to the floor. The Guardian sought to get hold of Daledus' exposed neck, while Daledus looked for any weakness in that Golden armor. Neither succeeded. Trenton ignored Daledus' statement and rushed over to unlatch the Guardian's helm, yanking it away to expose the hissing reptile beneath. He raised his slender sword for the kill, but Daledus got in the way. Daledus' meaty fist crashed down onto the reptilian face. The snake eyes' hypnotic power had no effect on the enraged Dwarf, and with two vicious blows that hit like battering rams, the Daledus knocked the creature unconscious. Meanwhile, Trenton retrieved Daledus' axe and tossed it to him. Daledus rose, then drove the axe down for the kill. The battle was over, but a Blue Knight was dead and Vorden and Jerret had significant injuries. Lannon's abdomen hurt when he breathed. Shennen and Bekka laid Zander Hawkborn's body on the altar and stood with heads bowed for a moment. Then they left him there. *** Vorden managed to get the bleeding stopped in his neck, and he sat down on a

bench, keeping cloth pressed to the wound as he worked on it with his healing energy. They didn't have a White Knight with them, but Aldreya possessed some minor healing skills and offered to help. "I'm fine," Vorden said in a sullen voice. "I will heal on my own. It's my fault anyway for not keeping track of my foes, and the wound really isn't that bad. It's just bleeding a lot." He gazed at his sword, which lay across his knees, and his face bore a haunted expression. "Are you sure?" asked Aldreya, concerned that Vorden was downplaying the extent of the injury. A neck wound was nothing to be ignored. But Vorden only glared at her. "Yes, very sure. I don't want to talk. Just let me focus on healing before the next battle begins." "I wouldn't mind some help," Jerret said. The wound in his shoulder was ugly, the bleeding difficult to contain. Aldreya moved to assist him. Taris seemed to be fighting against pain and exhaustion, but as usual, he voiced no complaint and showed no emotion over it. "Are you okay, Master Taris?" Aldreya asked him. "I will endure," said Taris. "I still have some fight left in me." "So that was King Verlamer's big ambush?" said Daledus, kicking at the creature he'd slain. "To send a few of these monsters after us?" "Hardly," said Jace, sitting down on an iron bench to catch his breath. "The king has more Guardians he could have sent after us. Why use only six?" "Indeed," said Taris. "Don't forget that Verlamer also commands the Thallites. He could have prepared a much greater ambush for us." The remaining Knights and Prince Vannas entered the temple. They were dismayed to see that Zander Hawkborn was dead. Vannas muttered under his breath, still angry he'd been left out of the fight. "Zander was trying to assist me," Bekka explained, deep sorrow in her voice. "He fought by my side many times. He will be greatly missed."

"He was a fine Blue Knight," said Shennen. After Aldreya was done bandaging Jerret's wound, she took Jerret and Galvia aside and chastised them for ignoring Taris and ing in the battle. The two Red Knights protested, pointing out that they had fought well, but Aldreya would hear none of it. "Show some respect for Taris," she said angrily. They nodded, but Jerret had a sneer on his lips. "Bekka Nightspear," said Shennen, "I want you to fight alongside me on this mission. You have shown great skill and courage in battle." She bowed. "Thank you, Master Shennen. It is a great honor to be chosen for this task." She was a tall, dark-skinned Norack woman in her early twenties, with long black hair pulled back in a ponytail. Her bare arms that protruded from her blue, leather armor rippled with muscle. Daledus nodded to Lannon. "Lad, you're becoming a great warrior. The way you wrestled down that Guardian was very impressive." "I've fought them before," Lannon explained, "so I knew what to do. Swords don't work on them. Except for Vorden's sword, apparently." "Lannon," said Taris, "you did excellent work in alerting us to the ambush. That sort of thing is exactly why you were recruited by Dremlock. And we're going to need more of it, so keep reaching forth with the Eye." "Thank you," said Lannon. "But the Guardians were just sort of standing around in here, as if they expected to be discovered." Jace rose and stretched his arms, a frown on his face. "Yes, but why? The puzzle deepens, and still we press on--waiting for the trap to be sprung." "Yes," said Taris. "But I'm convinced that Lannon can guide us through safely. Here in the mines, Lannon is our greatest weapon. King Verlamer cannot possibly have an answer for the Eye of Divinity." "One would think," said Jace, but he didn't appear convinced. He muttered something to himself and shook his head.

Taris' praise left Lannon feeling pleased. A compliment from Taris was quite significant. He felt valuable to the mission. Maybe he was even as important to the quest to free Dremlock as Prince Vannas was. A dead Knight, and the injuries to his friends, dampened his mood some--yet he was eager to press onward and use his skills. He wanted to earn more compliments. "Lannon, lead the way," said Taris, patting him on the back. Lannon tried to move--but found he was frozen. Stunned, he realized everyone in the Temple was suddenly rendered motionless. Powerful dark sorcery was everywhere, flooding the chamber. Nine Goblin Lords had been hiding atop broad wooden beams in the Temple's ceiling, and now they released their foul, paralyzing sorcery throughout the room. Lannon glimpsed them with the Eye, their evil faces twisted with focus as they clung to the beams. Lannon realized the dastardly mistake he'd made. He'd spotted the Guardians easily in the chamber and had assumed that was the extent of the ambush. In his surprise over finding them there, he'd forgotten to check the ceiling. This was King Verlamer's trap revealed at last, and it had fooled Lannon far too easily. He was ashamed and disgusted with himself. This wasn't the first time Lannon had been snared by the sorcery of Goblin Lords. It had happened once before, but the Lords had failed to contain the famous Knight known as Caldrek Redblade, who was able to buy them enough time to break free. Yet Lannon sensed these Priests were much more powerful and focused, and their sorcery was able to contain everyone in the room--even Taris Warhawk. One thing was obvious--Bellis had formed a deep union with Tharnin, which made the kingdom all the more dangerous. This group of nine elite Goblin Lords was a mighty weapon used flawlessly to trap the White Flamestone. It had been Lannon's duty to see through this trap, and he'd failed miserably. For a moment, Lannon simply stood there in despair, the Eye of Divinity diminishing. Then he pulled himself together and fought to break free. He realized two of the Priests were holding him in check, and their power was forcing the Eye back inside him. Had he not been caught off guard, he would have stood a much better chance of escaping, but now he couldn't shore up the Eye enough to overpower them. His hope now rested with Taris Warhawk. The

Birlote Sorcerer knew many tricks, but could he do what the Eye of Divinity could not? Lannon watched in despair as more of Bellis' warriors poured into the Temple and quickly began disarming the group. They took the White Flamestone along with all the other weapons, and then locked everyone in stout irons. They used special irons for the sorcerers (including Lannon) that were resistant to heat. They also forced the sorcerers to drink some foul liquid that burned the throat. Then the Goblin Lords dropped from the ceiling and stood grinning at them. Now able to move again, Lannon bowed his head in anguish. He was already feeling very groggy from the liquid, slipping away into darkness. His final thought before he ed out was that perhaps the war for Dremlock was truly over.

Chapter 20: Dremlock Dungeons

When Lannon Sunshield awoke, his wrists and ankles were still in irons and he was in a shadowy prison cell, lying on a bed of dirty straw. He sat up and checked himself for injuries. Finding none, he rose and studied the irons that held him. They were designed to resist Knightly sorcery--but not the rare type of power Lannon wielded. He sensed he might be able to escape, but he wanted a chance to speak to his captors before he attempted it. He desperately wanted to help his companions, but breaking out of his cell might get them killed. It was his fault that the mission had failed. He cursed himself for falling for a trap that now seemed wretchedly simple as he pondered it. They had been counting on him to behave like a fully trained Knight, and instead he'd acted like an impatient Squire to the ruin of all. He'd done exactly what King Verlamer had expected him to do, and that fact was deeply humiliating. So much for the Dark Watchman returning to save his kingdom. Frustration tormented him, and he paced about restlessly. Were his companions being tortured, or were they already dead? He couldn't bear the thought that he'd failed them so completely. His abdomen still ached from being punched by a metal-clad fist, and the anxiety that churned in his stomach didn't help matters. He felt nauseas and weak. Lannon peered through the cell bars but could only see a stone hallway lit by a pair of torches that hung from the wall. A few rats scurried here and there, and a musty stench hung in the air. He knew he was in Dremlock, but where were his companions? He scanned the hallway with the Eye but found he was alone except for an approaching guard. The guard was stocky, with a long black mustache that hung down well past his chin. He wore black clothing and carried a hammer in one hand and a large turkey leg in the other. He had an arrogant, spiteful look on his broad face as he studied Lannon in the torchlight. "Greetings!" the guard bellowed. "I see you're still alive in there."

"I'm fine," said Lannon. "How are my companions doing?" "Dead," the guard grunted. He tore into the drumstick, and pieces dropped from his teeth to the floor. He sneered as he chewed. The Eye revealed that the guard was probably lying, but Lannon could not tell for sure. "What's to be done with me?" he asked. "Execution," said the guard, drawing the drumstick across his throat in a hostile gesture. "A beheading awaits you." That statement seemed to be a lie. "Will I get a last meal?" Lannon asked, realizing how hungry he was as the smell of roast turkey filled his nostrils. "I don't waste food on Dremlock scum," the guard growled. "You can die on an empty stomach for all I care." "Wonderful," Lannon mumbled. Of all the possible guards that Bellis could have assigned to him, why did they choose this one? "Is there any chance I could speak to King Verlamer?" The guard bellowed laughter. "Keep dreaming, lad. You'll have the rats down here for company, though--until we free your head from its neck." He left the drumstick lodged in his teeth and folded his muscular arms across his chest, as if daring Lannon to dispute him. Lannon sat down, knowing further conversation was pointless. But the guard kept standing there staring at him. "Are you going to eat that?" Lannon asked. The guard yanked the drumstick from his mouth. "Huh? Are you a hungry little man? Well, too bad." He chewed some more of it. The moments ed by.

Lannon lost himself to frustration. "So how is the weather outside?" It was a sarcastic question, but the guard seemed oblivious. The guard's mouth hung open for a moment, full of turkey. "It's fine. Nice and sunny. Perfect for an execution. Are you ready to die?" If it will get me out of this conversation, Lannon thought sarcastically. "Of course not. I would prefer to live. Can you tell your king that I would like to speak to him? My name is Lannon Sunshield. I'm the Bearer of the Eye of Divinity. He might find it useful to speak to me." Lannon's statement didn't seem to with the guard, who simply stared at him and continued eating. Lannon tried again to communicate. "You see, I'm a sorcerer...sort of. I'm someone important to this kingdom. Listen, can you just tell your king to..." He let his words trail off in frustration. Clearly, he was getting nowhere. Was he a fool for not simply trying to escape? "So you're important," the guard mumbled. "I already knew that." "Great!" said Lannon, hope rising within him. "Since you know the truth, would it trouble you too much to take my message to the king?" The guard stood in silence for a while, then said, "It won't save you from a beheading." Lannon sighed. "I understand that I must lose my head. You're made it very clear. But I would like to chat with King Verlamer before I do." "He'll see you when, and if, he decides to," the guard grunted. "Until then, you can rot in your cell." "What about food and drink?" asked Lannon. "I'm sure Bellis doesn't starve its prisoners." "I won't feed you," the guard growled. "Why not?" asked Lannon.

"Because I'm just ing through," he replied. "I came down here to grab a crate of supplies. I actually tend to the horses. I shoe them." "You shoe horses?" said Lannon. The man held forth the hammer. "I shoe horses. And I do other things too." "Great," said Lannon, feeling the urge to rip out his own hair. "It seems I've wasted my time." The man shrugged his broad shoulders and walked away. Not yet convinced that escape was the best option when Dremlock was occupied by thousands of hostile warriors, Lannon went back to sleep. *** When Lannon awoke, King Verlamer was standing outside his cell. Lannon knew instantly who it was, having seen him in a vision during an encounter with the Eye of Dreams. Regardless, there was no mistaking the King of Bellis. His huge stature and royal garb told the tale--along with the immense power and commanding aura that seemed to engulf him. Verlamer had cleaned up a bit since Lannon had last seen him--his hair and beard neatly combed and his robe and cape free of stains. Lannon hadn't expected to meet him so soon, and his heart sped up with anticipation. This was the opportunity he'd been hoping for. "Ah, Lannon Sunshield," the king said. "Did you sleep well?" For a moment, the two gazed at each other through the bars, and then Lannon broke free of his surprise and probed Verlamer with the Eye. But only a wall of fog was revealed that Lannon had encountered before--which meant some type of sorcery was blocking his efforts. "I feel okay," said Lannon. "Just a bit hungry." He was impressed with Verlamer's size. The king's huge form, pale skin, and bony hands reminded him of Jace--only he was a bit taller, with a thick beard, and more insane looking. His eyes shone with a madness Lannon couldn't begin to comprehend. But was it actually madness Lannon saw there, or something related to sorcery? He wished the Eye could answer that question.

"You will be fed soon enough," said Verlamer. "We don't starve our captives. In fact, we treat our prisoners with great kindness...usually." "What of my companions?" asked Lannon. "Alive and unharmed," said Verlamer, "for the time being. However, I must warn you that if you attempt to escape, they will be put to death immediately." He leaned toward Lannon, one eyebrow raised. "Yet you could escape. Am I right? Surely a simple dungeon cannot contain the Eye of Divinity." Lannon shrugged. "Possibly, but I don't intend to try." That wasn't entirely true. If at any point he suspected his friends were facing an execution, he would certainly attempt freeing himself in order to go to their aid. Verlamer smiled. "Of course not, considering what I just told you. You're no fool, Lannon Sunshield. You are a lover of peace--and more importantly, a thinker like me. At least I know that much about you. You will not seek violence until you have exhausted more intelligent options." "I never wanted this war," said Lannon, opting to it the truth. "I came here seeking a peaceful solution." "I never wanted it either," said Verlamer. "Dremlock could have chosen the way of peace and remained in control of its destiny. Instead, it chose to fight. Surely, being a man of peace, you disagree with that decision." "The way of peace," said Lannon, "would have meant being enslaved to your kingdom. That is not acceptable for Divine Knights." "But brutal warfare is?" said Verlamer, with a sly expression. Lannon hated war, but being enslaved by a mad king was not a worthy alternative. "The choice was yours to invade Silverland. We did what was necessary--what the Divine Essence wanted." "Ah, yes," said Verlamer. "Your ancient god. Or rather, a fragment of an ancient god that uses mortals to achieve its goals." "I am delighted to serve my god," said Lannon. He wondered how the Divine Essence was reacting to the loss of Dremlock and if it was in danger. He wished

he could communicate with it somehow. The king stroked his beard thoughtfully, then said, "You interest me, Lannon Sunshield. Such a noble, peaceful spirit--yet so deadly with your blade. You defeated Tenneth Bard and the Hand of Tharnin. That makes you the greatest warrior in all the land, to my way of thinking. You are truly the essence of the Dark Watchmen reborn. I shall enjoy getting to know you." "Can I see my companions?" asked Lannon. "Not now," said the king, with a dismissive wave. "Perhaps later. We have plenty of time for things like that. I intend to remain at Dremlock for a while. Yes, I will rule Gallamerth from here. I feel right at home in this marvelous kingdom, and I have much to learn about the ways of the Divine Knights. You can help me learn, Lannon. In fact, you can help me in many ways. And you will." "What are you planning?" asked Lannon. "I don't want to execute anyone," said Verlamer. "I don't even want to hold anyone captive. I merely seek cooperation. This is all a game to me, Lannon. A game to conquer the world, starting with our continent of Gallamerth. I relish the challenge. I'm not some blockheaded oaf who loves to kill or is evil simply because I'm too stupid not to be. In fact, I'm not evil at all--though others try to make me out to be a vicious tyrant. I simply appreciate the strategy of expansion and, if necessary, war as well. The glorious challenge is all that compels me." "Yet you're in league with Tharnin," said Lannon. He didn't want to enrage the king, but he felt that Verlamer was living under an illusion and needed to be shown a bit of truth. "The Goblin Lords proved that." "In league with Tharnin?" said Verlamer. "Indeed. But Tharnin does not control me. It cannot control me. My bloodline prevents it. Tharnin is simply another tool that I am using to achieve my goals." "If the Deep Shadow can't control you," said Lannon, "then it will seek to influence you in ways you might not be aware of." "Let it try," said Verlamer, with a yawn. "I make my own decisions. I bow to no one--not even my own god. Our deity is there to wield influence over the people, but he holds no sway over me. He gives me no orders. In fact, I don't even

believe in him. I know he is an imposter posing as our god. It doesn't matter. I use him just as I use everyone--to further my cause." "What if you're wrong?" said Lannon. "What if your god is influencing you in such a clever way you don't realize it?" Lannon had encountered enough of Tharnin's mischief to know just how cunning it was. It had infiltrated Bellis for a reason, but King Verlamer seemed completely oblivious to the forces he was dealing with. The Deep Shadow had a way of blinding even the wisest people, and Lannon suspected that Tharnin was entirely responsible for Verlamer's assault on Gallamerth. Clearly, this all had to be the work of Tharnin. "Impossible," said Verlamer. "The sorcerer who poses as my god doesn't even know that I know he is a fake. He thinks I believe in him as everyone else does, the fool. But he is only my puppet, giving my rule even greater credibility. The real god of Bellis has been asleep for ages. Now, I will never it we had this conversation, and we will not speak of it again. Is that clear?" Lannon nodded. "This is fascinating," said Verlamer. "I've just met you, and here I am spilling my secrets. You truly are extraordinary." He reached into the pocket of his green robe. "But I am extraordinary as well. In fact, I hold the fate of Dremlock Kingdom in my hand. And I very much mean that--right in my hand." Lannon probed the king's pocket with the Eye, but the wall of fog shut him out. It was extremely frustrating, a barrier that seemed impenetrable. "You wish to see what's in my pocket?" asked the king. "Just this little stone that shines so beautifully." He removed a black pouch from his pocket. Smiling, he then slid the White Flamestone from the pouch. The pale, shimmering glow flooded the dungeon. Verlamer's eyes behind that glow looked black. Lannon groaned at the sight of it. "A magnificent weapon," said Verlamer, "but quite useless in my hands. And really, it is too dangerous for anyone besides myself to possess. Thus, I shall keep it with me, safe at all times. I enjoy looking at it." Lannon didn't respond, the will drained from him. King Verlamer seemed to have all the answers. Maybe he wasn't under the influence of Tharnin after all.

Maybe no one could outwit him. "I will summon a guard," said Verlamer, "to provide food and drink. Don't bother trying to escape. Even if you leave your cell, you would never get out of this building alive. And your friends would pay dearly for such a decision. After you have eaten and rested for a time, we will talk again." Once again, Lannon's frustration boiled over. "You want me to be another puppet of yours, just like everyone else." "No," said Verlamer, shaking his head. His eyes were wide with wonder. "Not just another puppet. Your sight is worth more than ten of these Flamestones! But one has to understand how best to use it. That is where Dremlock failed you miserably. Your gifts were not dealt with properly, Lannon. I won't make that mistake." "I won't be your slave," said Lannon. "You already are," said Verlamer, tapping the cell bars. "You can either be treated with dignity and respect--or you can suffer horribly. The choice is yours. But if you think you're going to match wits with me, then you have already chosen the bitter path of suffering." With that, King Verlamer walked away. Then I guess I'm going to suffer, Lannon thought.

Chapter 21: The Mad King of Bellis

As promised, Lannon was brought a platter of eggs, bread, and water. The food was bland, with no butter, but he gobbled it up. After that, Lannon sat and waited for King Verlamer to return. The guard wasn't much for company, speaking only when necessary, and Lannon spent his time listening to scurrying, squeaking rats. He wondered why a dungeon in Dremlock had so many rats. Why hadn't the Orange Squires dealt with them? There was something sinister and unnatural about their presence, and he wondered if they had been brought there deliberately by Verlamer. Perhaps he liked the atmosphere of his dungeons to be foul. Lannon glanced at his irons again, longing to break free. The irons were very stout, as were the cell bars. Lannon doubted he could summon the strength to free himself by brute force. He was capable of great feats of strength, but ripping apart thick irons or steel bars was beyond him. However, he sensed it would have been quite easy to unlock the irons and his cell door. The locks weren't designed to resist the Eye of Divinity. He could have freed himself in moments. But what would he do and where would he go? He could certainly put up a fight. It was even possible he could escape the kingdom if he moved quickly enough and got lucky. But escape wouldn't help his friends, and there was no way he could liberate the kingdom on his own. Lannon was confident in his growing abilities, but attempting to take back Dremlock on his own seemed like a path to certain death. And it would likely get his friends killed (if they weren't dead already). So Lannon was forced to sit and wait, his mind filled with gloomy thoughts. He sipped at his water awkwardly, his shackles getting in the way. At last King Verlamer returned--flanked by two Guardians. "I must apologize for the delay, Lannon, but I'm very busy lately. My duties are very demanding. You will accompany me up to the Great Hall." With that, the king unlocked Lannon's cell and stepped back. Lannon hesitated, wondering if it was a trick of some sort. But sensing no

obvious danger, he stepped into the hallway. Having no idea what the king wanted from him, he simply followed along. He caught site of something moving toward him from the shadows, and he froze. The king's golden Dragon crept forth, gazing at Lannon with curiosity. For a moment, Lannon forgot to breathe. He was captivated by the Dragon, who seemed to be taking as great an interest in him. Lannon studied it with the Eye and saw that it was hundreds of years old and immensely powerful. It was a creature of Tharnin, but it did not radiate the gloom of Tharnin. Its power was its own and served its will. It was a vain beast that believed itself superior to those around it, but it was fiercely loyal to the King of Bellis. The Dragon was a beautiful creature, with its shimmering golden scales that seemed to hold a touch of crimson. Its yellow eyes were both cunning and hypnotic, seeming to gaze deep into Lannon. "Say hello to Goratho," said Verlamer. Lannon didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the beast before him. He sensed that the Dragon could move with blinding speed when it chose to--speed that even Lannon might fail to match. This was not the Great Dragon that had done so much damage at Dorok's Hand, yet in spite of its relatively small size, this was a beast that could cause much carnage if it wanted to. Dragons were rarely encountered by humans, as they preferred to dwell in remote, dangerous regions of the Bloodlands, so their capabilities were not well known. Lannon was shocked to discover just how powerful these Goblins were--which explained why his Dragon-bone sword was so stout. The King of Bellis was very well defended. "As we through the halls," said the king, "do not look at or talk to anyone. Follow the Guardians." They ed rows of cells that contained familiar faces--Knights of Dremlock. Vesselin Hopebringer stood in one of the cells, and his eyes briefly met those of Lannon. Lannon was surprised to see a look of determination on the acting Lord Knight's face, but he could sense nothing beyond the fact that Vesselin was a changed man somehow. King Verlamer took out his ring of keys and let Vesselin out of his cell. "Come along, old man. There is a place for you at table as well."

Vesselin followed obediently. Lannon wanted to ask him many questions, but he kept quiet. However, Vesselin turned to him at one point and said, "Krissana Windsword and Talfos Wolfheart are dead, as well as many other Knights. Furlus was captured on route to Dremlock by of the Blood Legion and is now here. Cordus is in the care of the Divine Essence, safe for the time being. Some of the Dark Knights are still--" King Verlamer struck Vesselin in the face to silence him--a vicious blow that nearly took the old man off his feet. "That's enough of that talk!" Anger surged through Lannon, and the Eye sprang to life. For a moment he struggled to contain himself, wanting to break free and deal with Verlamer. But with the Dragon and two Guardians present--as well as the powerful king himself--it wouldn't have been a wise move. Once again, Lannon was forced to be patient and wait for an opportunity. Verlamer smiled at Lannon. "You don't like it that I hit the old man. You want to punish me for it. Yet you should know that it was this old fool--the acting Lord Knight--who gave the order of surrender. Thus, I have no respect for him. He is a spineless weakling with no faith in his warriors." Vesselin shrugged off the blow and kept his head held high, gazing with disgust at the king. "Darkender Tunnel had been breached, Lannon. Knights and Squires were dying. I did what was necessary." "I understand," said Lannon. King Verlamer's face darkened, and he raised his hand again to strike Vesselin. But Lannon froze his arm with the Eye. Verlamer fixed in his icy gaze on Lannon. "You dare interfere, Sunshield?" He broke free of Lannon's hold and seized him by the cloak. "If you turn your sorcery against me again, lad, I will have the old man executed. You may be the Bearer of the Eye and a Dark Watchman, but I am the King of Gallamerth and I do not tolerate such disrespect from anyone!" "I'm sorry," Lannon mumbled.

The king glowered at him for a moment longer and then released him. "Enough of this folly. We have a meeting to attend." They went up a flight of stone stairs and emerged into Dremlock Hall of the North Tower. Sunlight steamed in through round windows, reflecting off the armor of more Golden Knights who stood guard. A Lord and Lady of Bellis were seated at a long table, along with a Wizard. Also present, and in heavy irons, were the of the Divine Shield, including Furlus Goblincrusher and Fadar Stonebow. Valedos was also present, along with Bekka Nightspear. They stood off to one side, chained together in a row. Guardians stood by them with drawn blades, ready to strike instantly if the need should arise. Verlamer's Dragon climbed atop the large stone fireplace--which currently held only grey ash--and curled up to sleep, one wing and his tail draped over the edge. He almost looked like a golden statue. "The prisoners will remain quiet," said Verlamer, "or face the wrath of my Guardians. This meeting will be conducted in an orderly fashion." Taris looked calm, but Furlus was clearly enraged. Prince Vannas seemed weary and defeated. Jace looked almost bored, standing like a hulking shadow with his head bowed and giving an occasional yawn. The others showed mixed emotions. Lannon and Vesselin were added to the chain. Lannon felt humiliated to be strung together with the others like fish. It was horrifying to see what had become of Dremlock--such powerful and honorable Knights enslaved to a mad king. Verlamer was unpredictable and might order all of them executed on the spot. If so, Lannon vowed there would be a fight. "Excellent," said King Verlamer, sitting down at the table. "Everyone is present. I would like to call this meeting to order. We are here to decide the fate of Dremlock. From what I can gather, these are the most important Knights of this kingdom, aside from Cordus Landsaver of course." "Some of them are mere lads," said the Bellis Lord, a heavyset, bald Norack with a braided beard. He shook his head. "Why would such young, inexperienced warriors hold such power within a kingdom?" "Typically they wouldn't, Hargud," said Verlamer. "Here we have five of the High Council, and Fadar Stonebow is ranked just below that and is not an

official member as far as I can gather. Then we have several Knights who are ranked just below Fadar who I decided not to invite to the meeting. However, the Divine Shield changes the order of command, and these young Knights are at least as highly ranked as Fadar Stonebow--if not slightly higher." Hargud grunted something and then sipped at a goblet of wine. "Their order of command is strange. The exact ranking of each warrior is difficult to tell. I'm assuming that Taris Warhawk is now the acting Lord Knight?" "Yes," said Verlamer, "and Furlus Goblincrusher is ranked just below him. Vesselin is now actually third in command. Beyond that, the order is unimportant. Let us just proceed with our business." The Bellis Lady, a large woman with curly blond hair adorned with a flower from the Temple grounds, was picking at various cheeses from a platter and popping them in her mouth. Her name was Seleia. "The men are so handsome, even the Birlote sorcerer in spite of his scars." She smiled at Vannas. "And it delights me to lay eyes on a Prince of Borenthia--so bold and strong-looking. The Dwarves, however, have fat bellies and are quite repulsive for warriors." Furlus sneered at her. Suddenly, his muscles bulged beneath his short-sleeved tunic and it seemed like his thick irons might snap apart. The Lady dropped her piece of cheese and shrank back. But the irons held. The Wizard, whose name was Aljohn, fixed his gaze on Lannon. He was a Norack Alchemist with red hair and a beard and kindly looking eyes. In spite of his pleasant appearance and demeanor, he was a brutal strategist who had been trained by Omharal in the ways of killing and intimidation. "So this is the boy who can see all. He is probably searching our thoughts right now." Aljohn was correct in that Lannon was scanning them with the Eye, but Lannon was not able to discover anything useful. He gave up on that and simply waited to hear what they had to say. "He can see much," said Verlamer, "but not all." He winked at Lannon. "If he could see all, he wouldn't be standing here in irons." "Ah, yes," said Hargud. "My king, I am very impressed with how swiftly and easily you defeated this legendary kingdom. And the trap which snared Prince Vannas was extraordinary and, well, just purely brilliant!"

"Beyond brilliant!" said Seleia. "They never stood a chance." The king smiled. "The trap was entirely mine. In fact, Malijor thought it was pure folly. He thought Lannon Sunshield would see right through it. But I insisted he was wrong." "He is a fool," said Aljohn, "who thinks he knows best." Verlamer shook his head. "Not a fool. He does many great deeds for our kingdom, but he lacks...an instinct that I was born with. I could sense that young Lannon would fail to avoid the trap. My heart was filled with certainty--and when I feel so strongly about something, I am rarely wrong." "You are the wisest of the wise, my king," said Seleia. She gulped down her cheese and leaned toward him. "May I kiss your ring?" King Verlamer glanced at the large, gleaming, golden ring he wore, sculpted in the shape of a Dragon's head. He frowned. "I shall take a on that." She bowed. "Of course, my lord." "This is our status," said King Verlamer. "Pay attention." Lord, Lady, and Wizard leaned toward him as if he'd just yanked on their ears. "Feldo is having trouble with the Greywinds. They won't cooperate very easily. Yet these magnificent horses simply must learn to serve us. I sent for a Ranger who is an expert in dealing with them. He once tended the stables here. Also, the Olrogs still refuse to work with our blacksmiths in the Forge, but I'm not sure we will need them. Resources are running a bit low, as we discussed before, so a rather large shipment of supplies is on the way from Gravendar. I also would like to send a shipment to Braxalt from Kalamede to help with the troubles there." Hargud sighed. "Braxalt continues to plague us. That festering mud pit has cost us more time and resources than anything else. It remains my opinion that we should burn it and leave it in ruins." "Braxalt has great historical value," said Verlamer. "Something you should learn to appreciate, Hargud. That festering mud pit, as you call it, is one of our proudest achievements." Hargud yawned. "If you say so, my lord."

Lannon shifted about impatiently, wondering if King Verlamer was going to get to matters of more significance. The king gazed at Lannon for a moment, then said, "This kingdom is still very much in disarray. There is a bitter lack of cooperation here--especially concerning the Grey Dwarves. Even the lowly Orange Squires resist us. Therefore, I believe we need to show these Divine Knights that we mean business." "Perhaps a bit of torture would do the trick," said Seleia, carefully selecting a piece of cheese and setting it atop some bread. She studied it for a moment and then went on, "Some of the food here is wonderful, by the way. Simple, yet refreshingly delicious." "I agree about the food," said Verlamer, "but not the torture. The Divine Knights can resist pain and have little fear of injury or death. We need something more shocking. , we're not dealing with ordinary warriors." "Executions?" asked Aljohn. "I think he's referring to the duels again," said Hargud, frowning. "Yes, the duels," said Verlamer, drumming his long fingers on the tabletop. "We need to give the Knights a fighting chance. Not only will it show that we are fair and noble, but it will provide us with considerable entertainment. This strategy has worked well for us in the past." "My lord," said Hargud, "I know that you have a deep fondness for duels. But are you sure it won't create sympathy for our prisoners?" Verlamer sighed. "You always suggest that, Hargud, yet it never happens. The people of this land have great respect for honorable combat." "Yet Prince Vannas should already have been executed," said Aljohn. "He is too dangerous to be kept alive. We should do it right now." The prince raised his head, but said nothing. Lannon tensed up, ready to fight to the death.

"I disagree," said the king. "If we execute him, the Birlotes may grow enraged and opt to go to war. We are not quite ready to deal with Borenthia yet. Therefore, it would be best if he died in honorable combat--in a duel. If he loses, the Birlotes may feel he got what he deserved." "Not likely!" Vannas muttered. One of the Guardians seized the prince and put a blade to his throat. Lannon reached into his irons with the Eye, preparing to unlock them. He would not stand idle and allow Vannas to be executed. "Prince Vannas, be quiet," Taris commanded. "We will obey the king's order and not interfere with the discussion. We are simply here to listen." "Very wise of you, Taris," said Verlamer. "At least you understand what will happen if I am not obeyed." He signaled the Guardian to release Vannas, and the Golden Knight stepped back. "Well, which ones will fight?" asked Seleia. "The prince, of course," said Verlamer, "and his two cousins--against a Thallite giant. That should make for an entertaining battle. If they win, they get to remain alive and imprisoned. That's fair enough." "A Thallite?" Seleia laughed. "They will be squashed, the poor souls!" Aljohn grinned. "It will be quite brutal." "Yet what if they somehow did win?" said Hargud. "Again, the prince is too dangerous to have lurking in our dungeon." "Nonsense," said Verlamer. "I have the White Flamestone now, and he will never lay hands on it again. He is no danger to us." "May I...see the Flamestone?" said Aljohn, his eyes shining. Looking annoyed, Verlamer reached into his cloak. Then he withdrew his hand. "No, it isn't necessary. It is now mine alone to gaze upon."

The Wizard bowed, but looked unhappy. "And the others?" asked Seleia. "We need the two Tower Masters," said Verlamer, "for their knowledge of this kingdom. Therefore, they cannot fight. The Dwarves are boring. We all know how much they love combat, and their battle methods are quite predictable. The two older Dwarves will sit out, along with Fadar Stonebow and, of course, the useless old fool Vesselin Hopebringer. I will, however, allow the young female Dwarf to participate along with her friends. The two Birlote Blue Knights can fight together. I will plan something special for them." "What about Lannon Sunshield?" asked Hargud. "He is also quite dangerous. We are playing with fire, my king, by allowing some of these Knights to remain alive. If they're dead, they can no longer threaten us." Verlamer waved dismissively. "Save your warnings. You forget who you're dealing with." Hargud bowed. "I trust your judgment, my king. Obviously, your wisdom has guided this kingdom to unsured glory. However, every bit of instinct within me screams for these Knights to be eliminated quickly. Also, we shouldn't be discussing this in front of the prisoners." "Yet I want them to hear it," said Verlamer. "Especially Lannon. I have specific plans for the young Bearer of the Eye. He will help me deal with this kingdom and its rebellious spirit." He smiled at Lannon. Don't be so sure of that, Lannon thought stubbornly. The king rose and approached Taris Warhawk. He leaned down, until his face was inches from Taris' face. "I've heard much about you, sorcerer. They say you're quite talented, perhaps on the level of the Birlote Wizards. I would love to test your strength myself in a duel." "My lord!" said Hargud, looking greatly concerned. Verlamer sneered. "But I need you alive. Just one thing--I am the Lord Knight here now. Ultimately, you will recognize that."

Taris didn't reply. His face was stony. Anger flooded through Lannon at the sight of this disrespect for the great Taris Warhawk. He wondered how Taris could remain so composed. Verlamer paused to glare at Furlus, who glared back. "Dwarves," the king muttered, rolling his eyes. "Boring and predictable. Then he moved on to Prince Vannas. "I hope you die with honor, young prince." "I will," said Vannas, "if I must die." Verlamer took out the black pouch containing the White Flamestone and shoved it close to Vannas' face. He slid forth the Flamestone. "Look upon it one last time. It belongs to me forever now." Vannas gazed at the Flamestone, a wounded expression on his face. King Verlamer returned the stone to his robe. He paused before Shennen, whose cold eyes glittered. "I see death in your gaze, Birlote. I hope the arena takes care of you." He started moving down the line. "If it doesn't," said Shennen, "then watch the shadows." Verlamer hesitated, then glanced back. He seemed to consider giving a reply, then simply moved on to Trenton. "Here we have the Investigator of Dremlock. What shall I do with you? I'll have to think about it." "Vile scum!" Trenton shouted. "If it wasn't for my companions, I would break free and tear you to pieces!" "Yes," said Verlamer. "I hear you are a rather dangerous sorcerer. But you should know that I don't take kindly to insults. I'll deal with you later." Next, the king confronted Jace. The two gazed at each other in silence. Verlamer was slightly taller, but otherwise they were roughly the same in stature. Verlamer raised his eyebrows. "There is something familiar about you." Jace nodded. "I probably resemble your...brother." "I have no brother," said Verlamer. "I have a sister--and a son who despises me, a

weakling who does not share in the Blood of Kings. But no brother. I have heard of you, Jace the Wanderer. I have...dreamt of you. I dreamt that you were plotting the downfall of my kingdom. I am glad that you are now a prisoner of mine, and I hope you eventually perish in the arena so you trouble my dreams no more. I will plan something for you at a later date." Verlamer at last paused before Lannon. "The last of the Dark Watchmen and the most dangerous of all. A boy who doesn't yet realize the extent of his own power. You will sit by my side and watch the duels." "This isn't necessary," said Lannon. "And why not?" asked the king. "Dremlock resists me, disrespects me. It is time I showed the strength of my kingdom in the arena. It is very necessary. Tomorrow will be a day of bloodshed and cleansing, Sunshield. I give everyone here a fair chance at survival. If your friends are worthy, they will live." Lannon glanced at Taris. "What should I do, Master Taris?" He wanted to know if he should try to escape and lead a rebellion. Taris replied, "Be patient. Let Verlamer choose his fate." Verlamer's eyes widened. "Let me choose my fate? And what does that mean, oh wise sorcerer? I have chosen my fate already. It has led me here, and it will eventually lead me to your homeland of Borenthia." Taris didn't reply.

Chapter 22: The Fishing Trip

Later, King Verlamer came to Lannon's cell. Once again he was flanked by two Guardians and accompanied by his golden Dragon. He carried two fishing poles and a tackle box. "Greetings, Lannon. I discovered a nice little river not far from here, overflowing with fish. I just happen to be a skilled fisherman, and I wish to have a bit of relaxation before the duels tomorrow. I thought you could me and have a chance at some fresh air." It was an odd invitation. Why would Verlamer want to invite one of his greatest enemies on a fishing trip? Was it simply more the king's alleged madness, or some brilliant scheme Lannon couldn't fathom? "Do you enjoy fishing, Lannon?" "I do," said Lannon, speaking the truth. He'd fished in that river many times before. Verlamer smiled. "Excellent. I consider this a serious competition, however. You have the advantage of knowing the terrain, but I catch on rather quickly. You will have your hands full trying to defeat me. And no cheating with the Eye of Divinity. I expect this to be a fair contest. Agreed?" "Agreed," said Lannon. Verlamer unlocked the cell. Taris had told Lannon to let Verlamer choose his fate, and Lannon was beginning to understand why. Clearly, this king was on some insane path that could lead him to a bad end. But how many good people would he take down with him? Lannon stepped into the hall, and Verlamer patted him on the shoulder and handed him a fishing pole. "Elgessia. That means fish in the old Dragon tongue. At least I think that's the shortened version of the word. It originally was specific to a type of serpent fish related to the Dragons, that can be found even in rivers outside the Bloodlands. The word later came to represent all fish."

Lannon nodded. He had no idea what the king meant by old Dragon tongue and was too distracted by other thoughts to bother asking. "Let us be off, then," said Verlamer. "It might be hard for me to fish," said Lannon, "with these shackles on." They were rubbing his wrists raw and he wanted to be rid of them. Since the king already knew he could free himself if he chose, wearing them seemed pointless. The king shrugged. "We'll deal with that later." *** The river was in Knightwood. It was a small stream yet deep enough to harbor lots of colorful fish. On the opposite bank stood a mossy stone statue of an armored Knight. This was where Lannon and his friends had come to fish or swim when they weren't training. It was also where Jerret had his infamous encounter with Vorden and the Hand of Tharnin, after Vorden had seized control of his mind. The two Guardians held back, standing side by side with their swords drawn. Lannon glanced at them and shuddered, imagining the hideous reptiles that lurked beneath that gleaming armor. As the king baited his hook, Lannon watched in fascination as Goratho the Dragon crept down to the edge of the stream and sniffed at the water. He tucked his wings at his sides, then dove in and went under, looking like a streak of gold shimmering beneath the surface. A moment later, his head popped up and he was holding a fish in his mouth. He tilted his head back and swallowed it. He devoured another fish, and then climbed out by the Knightly statue on the opposite bank and curled up at its feet to sleep. "Such a lovely spot," said Verlamer, gazing at the sparkling river that ran between the craggy pine trunks. "Don't you think?" "It's peaceful," said Lannon, trying to prove a point. "This was a peaceful kingdom." "And it still is," said Verlamer. "There is no war here now--not even with Tharnin. In fact, I would say it is even more peaceful than before."

Lannon sighed, not knowing how to reason with the king. "Dremlock would never have bothered you. It is not our way to go seeking war." "That's not the point," said Verlamer. "And it's not true. Dremlock didn't bother me because Cordus Landsaver is endlessly reluctant to get involved in affairs outside of Silverland. Another Lord Knight might have decided that Bellis was getting to big and opted to put an end to my expansion. Don't tell me you believe Dremlock has never interfered with the affairs of Bellis in the past?" "I didn't say that," said Lannon. "I just said that Dremlock wasn't planning on going to war unless Bellis attacked first." Verlamer chuckled. "It's all old news to me, Lannon. Cordus was more concerned with the Blood Legion. He wanted to eliminate the Legion completely before focusing on my kingdom. However, he failed miserably. It was a poor strategy from the start. You see--it was Dremlock that I truly feared. I knew the Divine Knights could come and end my expansion, but as my reach grew, and no Knights came, I began to grow more confident." "I guess we should have gotten involved," said Lannon, in frustration. Verlamer nodded. "Obviously. But that seems to go against all that Dremlock stands for. This kingdom is about defending the weak and helpless. Or is it? It has made war on Tharnin and the Blood Legion for centuries." "I don't know about all that," said Lannon. "I just know my kingdom was invaded and a lot of Knights are dead or enslaved. And I don't believe it was necessary. It may be all a game to you, but at what cost?" "The cost of lives," said Verlamer, "and freedom. But lives and freedom are always being lost--if not from war, then from hunger or disease or crime. This is the way of the world, Lannon. You can't change it." Lannon groaned inwardly. The king was too set in his ways to be reasoned with, and Lannon should have known that. "Here," said Verlamer, "put some bait on that hook." Lannon raised his shackled wrists.

Verlamer scratched his head. "Ah, yes, your irons. They are meaningless, of course. But I want to state clearly that if you make any attempt at escape, your friends will all be executed immediately. And their deaths will be your fault. This is no idle threat, Lannon. I will have them executed." "I'm not planning to escape," said Lannon. "Then you may remove them," said Verlamer. Using the Eye, Lannon unlocked the irons and tossed them aside. He rubbed his aching wrists, then put some bait on his hook. They fished for nearly two hours, as the sun moved across the afternoon sky. Lannon kept trying to start conversations, but Verlamer would hear none of it. He was too caught up in the competition. He would roar with laughter and clap Lannon on the back whenever the lad pulled in a worthy fish. He was so animated as he fought with the fish that he nearly toppled into the river at one point. Eventually the king was satisfied that he'd beaten Lannon, and he laid his pole on the bank and turned to gaze at the lad. "I defeated you at fishing, but I haven't defeated you in the way I would most enjoy--in honorable combat. I've always wanted to test my skills against a Dark Watchman, but I thought they were extinct and that I would never get the chance. Yet here you stand, right next to me, and you are more valuable to me alive than dead." The Dragon raised its head, as if suddenly listening. "I would love to test my strength against you," said Verlamer. "I believe I can defeat you, blade to blade or hand to hand--it matters not. The Eye of Divinity is an extraordinary gift, but I was born to conquer my foes. What do you think, Lannon? Do you think I could defeat you?" "I don't know," Lannon itted. He believed the battle would never take place, regardless, for Verlamer had too much to lose. Even someone as crazy as he seemed to be wouldn't likely go that far. "To kill a Dark Watchman," said the king, "would confirm that I am the greatest warrior in all the land." His eyes blazed with ion. "No one would dare challenge me again in the arena." He paused, the fire dying in his eyes. "But it's

just a dream of mine. I don't actually want to kill you, Lannon. I want you to swear to serve me, to make me your new Lord Knight. I want to use your sight to achieve my goals. How would you like to help me rule all of Gallamerth?" Lannon considered it. If he played along he might end up in a position of great power--and then he could betray the king and tear down his empire. But even though he was a Blue Knight, such sneaky tactics taken to that extreme were not his way. He didn't want to live as a traitor--even if he was only pretending. He couldn't do it. "I can never take that oath," said Lannon. For a moment, Verlamer's face darkened. Then he shrugged. "I don't expect you to do so--yet. But in time I believe you will come to love and respect me. Perhaps after you witness the Dragon Duels tomorrow." He placed his hand on Lannon's shoulder. "My own son is useless, Lannon. You hold virtues he could never imagine. His mind is dull and petty. I've longed for someone like you who bears a great gift like I do--someone I can relate to. We met as bitter enemies, but we can become excellent friends." "I hope so," said Lannon, and he meant it. But that would only work if Verlamer would release those he'd taken prisoner and turn the kingdom back over to the Divine Knights. Yet there was no point in pressing the issue now. "This doesn't mean you are not a prisoner," said Verlamer. "All it means is that I see great potential in you and I am offering you a chance at a life filled with glory. You can do great things for your kingdom and the lands beyond. You can help your friends. Spend some time thinking about it." "I will," said Lannon, tossing a fish back into the river. But he'd already decided that King Verlamer would never accept Lannon's demands that Bellis withdraw its forces from Dremlock. Lannon was stubborn, and the king would eventually come to understand it. Things surely would not end peacefully.

Chapter 23: The Dragon Duels

The North Tower Courtyard was a festive scene. Bellis hadn't just brought an army with them to Dremlock--but also a large host of servants and entertainers. They had come expecting to win the war. It was another bright, sunny day with a warm breeze blowing across the neatly trimmed grass. The drums were out in full force, Dragon banners waved all over the courtyard, and long Dragon kites flapped in the wind. Bards walked amongst the tables, playing and singing, as beautiful dancers adorned with silk leapt and twirled gracefully nearby. Other servants wandered around carrying platters of bread, cheese, pickles, cookies, and drinks. There were fire eaters and sword swallowers, archers and blade throwers displaying their skills, and magicians performing tricks. But beneath all the colors and cheerful noise lay a shadow of death and madness. At the center of the courtyard a circular pit had been dug, surrounded by red stakes that had been pounded into the earth. The bottom of the pit was lined with metal spikes. Standing at the pit's edge was Shennen, Bekka, Vorden, Jerret, Aldreya, Galvia, Lothrin, and Prince Vannas. Each of those prisoners had a rope around his or her neck, and the ropes were held by nine muscular men with black hoods concealing their faces. Off to one side, on his bony knees and in shackles, was Vesselin Hopebringer, who was being forced to watch the duels up close. Surrounding the pit of death were a number of Bellis' warriors--elite Knights with crossbows as well as Guardians with drawn swords. They were ready to strike if things should get out of hand. Also present were a large number of Divine Knights (including the most rebellious ones) all in shackles--including Furlus, Trenton, and Fadar. Jace was also present, but Taris was missing. Lannon wasn't sure what Verlamer hoped to accomplish by bringing them to watch, but little the king did made sense to Lannon. Verlamer was called The Mad King of Bellis for a good reason. Verlamer and Lannon sat side by side at a table not far from the pit, where the king could get a good view of the action. As usual, his golden Dragon was curled up nearby, and two Guardians stood close to him.

"What do you think?" said Verlamer. "When we hold the Dragon Duels, it is always quite festive. Typically locals are invited to watch--although this mountain is quite barren as of late. Perhaps we will hold them in Kalamede or Gravendar next time, where there are sure to be large crowds." But Lannon couldn't see the merrymaking going on around him. His gaze was fixed on the Divine Knights standing at the edge of the pit--in a position that seemed to indicate they would be executed. He gripped the table's edge, his knuckles white, and wondered if he would be forced to fight. He was still free of his shackles, which had served no purpose anyway, but he lacked his sword or throwing star. However, there were stout weapons all around him--the swords the Guardians held--and with a swift move it wouldn't hard to secure one. "Relax, Lannon," said the king. "No one is going to die--at least not yet. It's all for show, lad, until the duel begins. Not only may it sway a few hearts amongst your Knights, but it helps my own warriors to know their place. Try to enjoy this day." Lannon could enjoy nothing. Verlamer poured a bit of crimson liquid from a silver flask into his goblet. Then he added some wine. "Dragon blood, Lannon--very old. It is from the days of Althustus the Dragonforged. It is very invigorating and makes one appreciate the pleasures of life. I always drink a bit before the duels. I would let you try a sip, but it is forbidden to anyone but the King of Bellis." Verlamer gazed into the goblet, then drank deeply from it. When he was finished, his eyes seemed to brighten. He grinned. "I usually give a long-winded speech before these duels," he said, "but I'm not in the mood today. I think we'll just get on with it." He rose and raised his hand, and everyone fell silent. "My good people," he bellowed, "I hope you enjoy these contests that are sure to be extraordinary. To Dremlock's fighters--bear in mind that if you move beyond a range of twenty feet, or past the red stakes, you will be shot with arrows until you are dead." The Lords, Ladies, warriors, and servants cheered. Some the Lords and Ladies raised goblets of expensive wine, their grinning faces showing their eagerness for bloodshed. Meanwhile, servants fanned them and refilled their goblets and attended to their every need.

Lannon looked upon them in disgust. How could such a large, extravagant kingdom be so barbaric? It seemed human life meant nothing to King Verlamer and the Lords and Ladies of Bellis, yet they were in charge of so many people. He couldn't comprehend such selfishness. "The first contest," said the king, "will involve Shennen Silverarrow and Bekka Nightspear--elite Blue Knights of Dremlock. They will be battling five Goblin Wolves. Although this contest may seem unfair, bear in mind that Dremlock's fighters have the advantage of quality weapons and sorcery--whereas the Wolves must rely on their natural attributes. Now let the first duel begin!" Shennen and Bekka were set free of their shackles and given their armor and weapons. Then everyone else moved away from them. A Goblin Tamer with a whip in hand--a member of the Blood Legion--emerged from the crowd, surrounded by the five Wolves. The large, bearded Tamer bellowed at the Wolves and threatened them with his whip, pointing at Shennen and Bekka. "Do not interfere in these duels, Lannon," said Verlamer, giving the lad a warning stare. "If you do, you will bring great suffering to your friends. I can sense if you use your power. You are here only to watch, no matter what happens." "I won't use it," Lannon promised. Of course, he wasn't sure he could keep that promise, but considering Verlamer's warning, he would try. The Wolves crept toward Shennen and Bekka, drool dripping from their huge teeth. They were vaguely humanoid in shape--a mix between wolf and man-with broad, muscular bodies. The gloom of the Deep Shadow surrounded them, an evil that seemed to radiate from their yellow eyes. Their fur was grey and long, hanging off them and blowing in the breeze. These powerful beasts had been made even mightier by the Thallites--given spiked collars and thick leather armor strapped to their bodies by harnesses. They had been fed special foods from places desolated by Tharnin to nurture their bodies with dark sorcery and give them enhanced strength and resilience. They moved forward like war machines, their armor shifting as they walked--heavy yet graceful creatures. Then they charged. They moved swiftly in spite of their weight and armor. One of them bounded through the air at Shennen, its demonic eyes gleaming with hatred as the great

teeth sought the Blue Knight's throat. It appeared Shennen was going to be hammered by the heavy beast. For an instant, the Blue Knight simply stood with his burning Flayer in hand, as if too stunned to move, as the Wolf hurtled toward him. Then Shennen dropped down and slashed upward with the smoldering blade, cutting through the leather armor and slicing the beast's stomach wide open. The Wolf continued through the air over Shennen and struck the ground with a loud thump. The Wolf tumbled through the grass, its life quickly bleeding away. It rose up for a moment on its hind legs and turned, a chilling howl that sounded almost human escaping its throat. It staggered forward and then collapsed. It shuddered and continued trying to rise for a moment before death took it. Bekka dodged a snapping Wolf and slashed at its side, but it was an awkward strike that deflected off a plate of studded leather armor, doing no damage. The Wolf ran on past, then skidded to a halt. It whirled around with shocking speed and charged again. She drew her dagger and flung it at the Wolf's head. The dagger struck the Wolf between the eyes but deflected off its thick skull. As the Wolf hurtled toward her, another one moved to her flank, its long teeth seeking her thigh. With a brilliant spin move, Bekka dodged around the Wolf at her flank and drove her burning Flayer deep into its back--a deadly wound that caused the creature to lay shuddering in the grass. The other Wolf rose up on two legs and walked toward her, growling viciously, drool flying from its muzzle. Shennen leapt to his feet as another Wolf clamped its powerful jaws down onto his side. But the teeth caught only leather armor. Shennen tore away from the beast and backed toward the pit. The Wolf hesitated, then rose up on two legs and charged him, its claws raised to slash at his throat. It ran swiftly on two legs-almost as fast as a human. As Lannon watched in tense silence, Shennen waited until the Wolf was close enough to strike and then he did a cartwheel to one side. The Wolf skidded to a stop at the pit's edge, but Shennen kicked it in the back from behind. The Wolf teetered on the edge for a moment and then tumbled into the pit. A hideous bellow arose from the pit, as the Wolf landed on the spikes and met its doom. The leather armor failed to protect the beast from its own weight, as the spikes drove through the plates and deep into its body.

Bekka hurled her burning Flayer at the Wolf that was approaching on two legs--a perfect strike that found its heart. The Wolf stumbled and went down. It tore the weapon free, but smoke poured from its chest wound. It tried to claw its way to her in a lurching, hideous fashion, dark blood oozing from its mouth. As Bekka moved to finish it, the remaining Goblin Wolf buried its teeth deep into the Blue Knight's thigh. She cried out in agony as the beast dragged her toward the pit, seemingly intent on pulling her down in a suicidal attack. Her weapons were gone, but she hammered at its skull with her fists--yet the creature shook off the blows easily and continued on. The muscular beast dragged her along with no difficulty, as if she were weightless. Lannon partially rose from his seat, the Eye of Divinity desperate to break free. But he held back, placing his trust in the elite Blue Knights. A single act of interference could cost them their lives and enrage the crowd. Its eyes crazed with hatred, the Wolf backed to the pit with Bekka's thigh still in its jaws. It was moving so swiftly that Shennen barely had time to react. He leapt over to her, diving to the ground and wrapping his arm around her free leg. The Wolf was at the very edge of the pit, its teeth still lodged in Bekka's thigh as she cried out in pain. Shennen and the Wolf engaged briefly in a tug of war, as Bekka continued beating on the creature with her fists, her face contorted from agony. She struck the creature so hard in desperation that she momentarily stunned it before it could go over the edge, and that bought her a few seconds. The Wolf was too strong for Shennen, and he lacked a means to brace himself and keep from sliding through the grass. His only hope lay in a quick strike--and he delivered it flawlessly. Still clinging to Bekka with one arm, Shennen drove his Flayer into the Wolf's skull. Had the blow been less than perfect, both of the Blue Knights might have been yanked into the deadly pit. But the blade hit firmly and with mighty force, the fires of Knightly sorcery helping it pierce the stout bone. Shennen yanked the blade free an instant before the Wolf released Bekka and reared up on two legs. It stood there swaying for a moment, then tumbled backwards into the hole. It was already dead before it landed on the spikes. Shennen lay panting for a moment. Then he rose and pulled Bekka away from the edge. He checked her thigh wound, then cut strips of cloth from her tunic and quickly bandaged it. She seemed to be in excruciating pain.

Suddenly, Shennen turned and hurled the Flayer at King Verlamer, who was well within range. It was an incredibly swift throw backed by Knightly sorcery. The master assassin's smoldering Flayer moved as fast as an arrow and with deadly precision, straight toward the king's unprotected chest. Yet Verlamer reached up and plucked the weapon from the air only inches away from his heart. It was as if he'd casually plucked a falling leaf from the air in front of him. He studied the Flayer for a moment, his dark eyes shining. The green flames died out in his hand, doing no damage to his pale flesh. Lannon looked on in shock--stunned that Shennen had launched the attack and even more surprised that Verlamer had so easily caught the weapon. Surely Verlamer would have Shennen executed immediately for the attack. But the king only smiled. "Ah, the elegant Flayer," he said, twirling the long dagger in his fingers. "The prized weapon of a Blue Knight. It is such a flawless and deadly blade." He rose and held it up for the crowd. "Shennen Silverarrow fought well, and he made a beautiful throw in an effort to take my life. I commend him, even if it has earned him an execution." The crowd had been shocked into silence, but now some of them applauded. The king tossed the Flayer to one of his Guardians. Verlamer frowned. "That was far too quick and easy, Lannon. It appears I underestimated their skills. But what's done is done, and that duel is ended." He declared Shennen and Bekka to be the honorable victors and then ordered them escorted back to their cells. As they walked from the courtyard, Bekka was limping badly, blood soaking her bandage. But Shennen wasn't allowed to assist her. Shennen walked with his head bowed, clearly miserable over his failed assassination attempt. Verlamer sat back down. "That Shennen is quite a dangerous fellow, but I'll hold off on his execution for a while, while we discuss some issues. Perhaps there is a chance you can be a hero and save his life." Insane or not, Verlamer was amazingly cunning and manipulative. He would stop at nothing to sway Lannon to his cause. He seemed to have great ion for everything he did, even taking extraordinary risks just to make a simple point. A powerful aura of energy and vigor engulfed him--a deep embrace of life--that in

other circumstances might have been very inspiring. During the their time spent at the river, Verlamer had more fun than Lannon would have believed possible from a simple fishing trip. Yet Verlamer didn't seem to possess a shred of real conscience. He didn't understand pity or mercy. Everything was a game, and his triumphs were all that mattered in the universe. Lannon was beginning to realize that the suffering of others was meaningless to the king and that Verlamer lacked the capacity to be reasoned with. That was difficult for Lannon to accept, as it diminished his faith in humanity to know that someone like Verlamer could exist. Lannon could understand a monster like Tenneth Bard or the Great Wolf that had sought to torment him. They were hopelessly fused with the corrupting power of Tharnin. But Verlamer's soul was free of that darkness. He was evil in a different way--a way that could not be blamed on the Deep Shadow. His evil was simply the way his mind worked. "Were you surprised by Shennen's attack?" asked Verlamer, grinning. "I have survived many assassination attempts, Lannon. So many, in fact, that I've lost count. I actually expected Shennen to do what he did. He knows that I am Bellis Kingdom--that without my rule Bellis would be weak and lacking direction. He believed that by killing me, he might ultimately save Dremlock. He was willing to sacrifice his life to do it, and I respect that. But I also knew he would be too slow. And thus my legend grows. To earn great respect and be feared, a king--or any warrior, really-- must take a few risks now and then. This is a valuable lesson for you." The lesson meant nothing to Lannon because it involved things he cared nothing for. He didn't need to be feared or respected. His only goal was to use his talents to battle against evil and follow the Sacred Laws. In a way, he was just as stubborn and unchangeable as Verlamer. The king sighed. "I certainly hope the next duel is more entertaining. I don't like them when they finish too quickly." *** Lannon's friends were given their weapons and armor, and they watched with wide eyes as a Thallite giant stepped from the crowd and advanced on them. Standing just over twelve feet tall, and protected by thick oaken armor, he cast an intimidating shadow over the young warriors. He carried an oak hammer in

one hand, and a large, round, black shield was slung across his forearm. With each slow step, the great drum boomed in response--making it seem as if the giant's footsteps caused a thunderous noise. He wore no helm, and his broad face and icy blue, inhuman eyes were visible. A crimson sun was tattooed on his bald head. His face held a confident, amused expression as he studied his youthful opponents. "I order you to stay back," Aldreya said to Vannas. "Let us protect you." Without the White Flamestone, the prince seemed defeated and did not argue with her. He let the others gather in front of him. The Thallite leaned on his oak hammer, threw back his head, and roared laughter. The crowd laughed with him, anticipating a slaughter. Then he raised the hammer and charged, his gaze fixed on Prince Vannas. The sight of this immense man charging across the grass was terrifying, and for an instant Vannas froze as the others scattered away from him. The great hammer rose high into the air and then came crashing down at the prince. Vannas came to his senses just in time and shrank back, falling, as the hammer struck the ground where he'd been. The hammer rose again, and Vannas rolled sideways. With a Dwarven battle cry, Galvia leapt at the giant, swinging her blazing hammer at his legs. It was a stout swing that might have crushed the wooden armor plating that protected his thigh, but the Thallite leaned down and blocked the blow with his shield, and crimson sparks erupted. He shoved her back, and she tumbled through the grass--yet her hammer remained stuck to his shield. The giant dropped his own hammer, then ripped hers loose and hurled it into the pit of spikes, as King Verlamer rose and applauded vigorously. Before the Thallite could pick up his weapon, Jerret's broadsword struck his thigh--hacking a chunk out of the wooden armor and tearing into flesh underneath. Enraged, the giant backhanded Jerret and sent him flying with a look of agony on his face. Jerret landed in the grass, and lay clutching his chest. Again, the Thallite tried to retrieve his hammer. This time Lothrin struck with his short sword, aiming at a small, unprotected spot on the giant's neck. As Lothrin leapt into the air and thrust his sword, the giant again managed to get his shield up to block the blade. As Lothrin landed, he found his sword stuck fast to

the shield. Before he could try to wrench it loose, the Thallite twisted the shield sideways and tore the sword hilt out of Lothrin's hand. The giant kicked at the Birlote Ranger with a huge boot, but Lothrin dodged, moving back out of range. Grinning, the Thallite tore the short sword from the shield and flung it into the pit. As the Thallite was disposing of the sword, Aldreya hurled a green fireball at his head. Somehow, the giant managed to sense the attack, and he ducked. The fireball flew over his head--inches away from his scalp--and fizzled out a few feet from the crowd. The Thallite turned and pointed at Aldreya. Then he started toward her, the shield raised. He took two steps and then Vorden struck him in the thigh with his glowing blade. Unfortunately, Vorden's powerful spider sword had not been returned to him, and he was left with a common broadsword. However, the blade burned crimson with the strange fires of his sorcery and cleaved through the oaken armor. However, he failed to make with the flesh underneath, and the Thallite seized his throat and lifted him. Vorden flailed about in that choking grasp in an effort to break free. His armor was pulled against the Thallite's shield with a clank of metal. His sword, however, fell from his hand and landed in the grass. Vorden hammered at the giant with his fist, even as his face turned crimson from strain and lack of air. Aldreya launched another fireball at the giant's head, but he raised the shield with Vorden still stuck to it. The fireball exploded against Vorden's armor, doing no damage. With a growl, the Thallite turned and shoved Vorden viciously, tearing him loose from the shield and sending him tumbling toward the pit of spikes. Vorden stopped just before the pit, one arm draped over the edge. Aldreya hurled another fireball--her best yet--at the back of the giant's head. The blazing orb streaked out from the dagger, the green flames writhing about like serpents. It exploded against his skull in a shower of hissing sparks. The giant fell to one knee next to Vorden and clutched the back of his head, which was charred and bleeding. However, his immensely strong skull, and his natural resistance to sorcery, had allowed him to withstand the fireball. He was alive, though momentarily stunned. He groaned and shook his head. Galvia seized a rock and hurled it at the giant's head, but he turned and batted it

aside with his hand. He rose to his feet, rubbing the back of his head. He glared at Aldreya. "That hurt, little girl. I'm going to smash you into pudding!" Lothrin circled the giant, his dagger in hand, looking for an opening. The giant winked at him to show he was watching him. Keeping one eye on Lothrin, he swiped up his oak hammer. "Okay, now I'm ready. Let's finish this." Vorden rose, his gaze fixed on his fallen broadsword which lay at the Thallite's feet. He seemed groggy from being choked, his legs threatening to buckle beneath him. The Thallite glanced at him, grinning. "You want your sword, huh? Come and get it, Knight." He placed a huge boot on the sword. Jerret rose again and attacked, his smoldering broadsword hacking through wooden armor and tearing into the Thallite's side. With a roar, the giant retaliated with his hammer, missing Jerret by inches as the Red Knight leapt out of the way. The giant's amused attitude had disintegrated, replaced by rage from the pain of his wounds. Now he intended to kill them quickly. Jerret drove at him again, but this time the Thallite got his shield in the way. With a clank, the heavy broadsword stuck to the shield, and the giant wrenched the weapon from Jerret's hands. He turned just in time to block yet another fireball from Aldreya, who seemed to be growing a bit weary, a look of strain on her face as she fought to summon more energy. Jerret backed off, bearing a sullen expression. The giant hurled the broadsword into the pit. Then he swiped up his hammer again. He glowered at them, his muscles bulging as he held the hammer high in the air. "Come to me!" he bellowed. Seeing a chance, Lothrin hurled the dagger at the Thallite's neck. It was a swift throw, but somehow the giant blocked with his shield. The dagger stuck to the shield, and the giant left it there. "Anyone else have a dagger?" asked Lothrin. No one did. "Your sword, then," Lothrin called out to Vannas.

"I will fight him myself," said Vannas, starting forward. "Stay back, Prince Vannas," Aldreya insisted. "Give Lothrin your sword." With a sigh, Vannas tossed the weapon near Lothrin. "Don't get yourself killed, my cousin. And don't lose that blade. It's the last one." Lothrin swiped up the short sword and twirled it in his hand. "I will deal with him myself. Everyone else, keep your distance." The giant stood waiting, as blood dripped from his wounds. He shifted position to face Lothrin, and his foot momentarily left Vorden's sword. Instantly, Vorden dove for the blade, but the Thallite was ready. In a shockingly swift move, he turned and smashed Vorden in the back with his hammer. The vicious blow from the huge weapon drove Vorden flat onto his stomach, the air in his lungs rushing out in a whoosh. His armor held, but he lay motionless, his eyes closed. If he was still alive, there was no fight left in him. "Squashed like a bug!" the Thallite roared. Once again he placed his boot over Vorden's fallen sword. "Who's next?" He seemed a bit groggy from Aldreya's fireball, however. He winced and shook his head, as if to shake off dizziness. Lothrin darted in and drove the blade through a thin slot between the armor plates--deep into the giant's thigh, just above the knee. Before the Ranger could withdraw the sword, the Thallite dropped his hammer and seized it. He yanked it from his thigh, and from Lothrin's clutches, and hurled it into the pit with a cry of pain and rage. As the Thallite flung the sword, Lothrin ripped the dagger loose from the shield and, leaping high into the air, plunged it into the Thallite's eye. Lothrin struck with such force that the blade snapped from the hilt. Lothrin dropped back to the ground, still holding the useless dagger hilt. The Thallite swung his fist at Lothrin's head, and the Ranger just managed to duck a blow that might have killed him. Meanwhile, the giant's boot had left Vorden's sword again, and Jerret dove in and seized it. He rose, then thrust the burning weapon straight through the wooden armor and into the giant's stomach. The giant dropped his shield and clutched at the broadsword with both hands. He staggered back, a stunned look on his face. He ripped the sword loose and hurled it away. He then clawed at the blade lodged in his eye, but was unable to free it. Aldreya managed another fireball--and this one struck the Thallite's face,

blinding him. He staggered about, groaning, and then sank to his knees. He knelt there for a moment, and it seemed he might rise again. But the dagger to the eye had been a deadly blow, and his strength was failing quickly. He lurched forward onto the ground, his clenching hand tearing up a patch of grass as he fought on for a moment. Then he lay still. The battle was over. "This is a sorry turn of events," King Verlamer muttered. He slammed his fist down on the table. "One of my precious Thallites beaten by a group of young Knights? Your friends have ruined my afternoon, Lannon." As Vorden rolled over and tried to get up, Lannon breathed a sigh of relief. His friends had survived--for now. "I guess that ends the duels." "Yes, for now," said the king, frowning. But the glint in his eye showed that he wasn't happy with losing and would make amends.

Chapter 24: The Challenge

Later that night, after a funeral was held for the fallen Thallite, King Verlamer came to Lannon and released him from his cell. "I thought we could take a walk," said the king. "It is a beautiful night, with a bright moon." They left the North Tower and wandered through Knightwood along the trails. As usual, the King was accompanied by his two Guardians and his Dragon. The Dragon plodded along at the rear on silent feet, a serpent-like shadow winding its way down the path. Bright moonlight shone between the branches, lighting the trail. The feasting and other festivities were finished for the evening, and an eerie silence hung about Dremlock, aside from occasional wolf howls. Lannon wondered what had become of his friends--if they had been punished for winning their duels. It disturbed him to no end that Verlamer might order them tormented or executed at any time. Verlamer paused and sat down on a wide stump by the trail. "The earlier duels were amazing, now that I look back on them. The of the Divine Shield were chosen well. You must be very proud of your friends." "They fought well," said Lannon. "They deserve their freedom." His Grey Keepers had defeated a Thallite giant, and that was no petty task. That was a duel worthy of legend, and Lannon was indeed fiercely proud of them. "Yes, they deserve their freedom," Verlamer agreed, sighing. "And you could give it to them, Lannon." He'd cast the baited hook, and he sat waiting in silence for Lannon to take it. He folded his arms across his broad chest and bowed his head, his bearded face ghostly pale in the moonlight. "How?" Lannon finally asked. He was guessing it had something to do with serving the king--as everything did. His guess was correct. "Swear allegiance to me," said Verlamer, "as countless others have done. I can be a wonderful friend to have. I see in you and your bold deeds what my son might

have been--had he not been born a worthless wretch. With you at my side, guiding my decisions with your sight, the Birlotes of Borenthia would stand no chance of resisting me. And I will teach you how to best use your gifts. I will keep you from the clutches of Tharnin that doomed your predecessors." Lannon sensed this was an important moment in his relationship with the king. If he said the wrong thing, Verlamer might lose patience and turn against him. The king had decided Lannon was just as important of a conquest as Dremlock itself, but what would happen if Verlamer failed? Would he resort to attempting to have Lannon executed? Surely that would be a petty response for a king who hated to lose. There was no doubt Verlamer would bargain with Lannon in order to get his servitude. He might even be willing to let some of Lannon's friends leave the kingdom and go free. Yet Lannon knew he could never serve this man. "This is an important decision," said Lannon, in an effort to buy some time. He was alone in the woods with the king, two heavily armored Guardians, and a Dragon. He contemplated his odds of winning a fight and decided they were slim. He lacked his weapons, and these were mighty foes. The king's dark eyes gleamed, catching the moonlight. "Yes, it is of the utmost importance. I'm giving you the chance of a lifetime, Lannon. I would be willing to free everyone except the High Council --even the prince. The Birlotes could return to Borenthia." Of course, Lannon thought. Vannas had survived the duel, and the king had reconsidered his decision to have him killed. Without the White Flamestone, Vannas had no power to threaten Verlamer. If the prince was allowed to return to Borenthia unharmed, the Birlotes would be less likely to go to war. For whatever reason, Verlamer wasn't yet ready to deal with the Tree Dwellers. "You could help me maintain order in Dremlock," said Verlamer. "The kingdom could go on just as before--except your banner would fall under that of Bellis. There would be peace and justice here. Dremlock would have virtually unlimited resources. Think of all the good that could come of it." The king tried to make it all sound so appealing, but what would happen later when Verlamer went to war with Borenthia? Dremlock would be expected to fight against the Birlotes simply so he could expand his empire. It went against everything the Divine Knights stood for. And since Bellis was now in league

with Tharnin, Dremlock's war against the Deep Shadow would cease forever (unless Verlamer decided Tharnin itself was a threat that needed to be dealt with). And what would become of the Divine Essence? Dremlock's god would never submit to such tyranny and would view anyone who did as a traitor. Lannon could never agree to betray his god and his kingdom. So was there any point to buying time? Time was going to run out regardless, sooner or later. Lannon steadied himself, his gaze drifting to one of the Guardian's swords. Should he go on the attack, while the king had few defenders with him? Or should he it the truth first and observe the king's reaction? He decided on the latter strategy, not yet wanting to risk everything. "I can never serve you," said Lannon. "It is not my way. I serve only the Divine Essence, my Lord Knight, and the Sacred Laws." For a moment, Verlamer sat as still as a statute. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking. Then he rose, towering over Lannon. "Are you sure of that? If you refuse me, I will execute all of your friends. In fact, I may execute every Divine Knight and Squire who now sits in my dungeons. And then I will destroy your god. So I ask you again, are you sure you want to refuse me?" Anger surged through Lannon, and he stood a bit taller. "I will never serve you, because your soul is frozen. You are a monster." Verlamer gazed down at him, frowning. "I've been called worse, actually. It doesn't harm my feelings, Lannon. What does bother me, though--immensely--is that I wasted time trying to sway you to my cause. I offered you everything I had, and you have spit in my face." "You won the battle for Dremlock," said Lannon, "but you lost the battle for my soul. The Eye of Divinity will never be yours. Accept it." "I do not accept defeat," said the king, "because I haven't yet lost to you. If you won't serve me, then you will die by my hand in honorable combat. I hereby challenge you to a duel, Lannon Sunshield!" "I reject your challenge," said Lannon, gazing back defiantly. "Kill me if you must, but I won't fight you for the amusement of the crowd." Verlamer's hands knotted into fists. "You will fight me. Or I will carry out the

executions at once and force you to witness them." "I won't do it," said Lannon. The king's face turned crimson. "I'm offering you a chance to kill me in battle, and you refuse it? Are you that much of a fool?" "Such a duel would be evil," said Lannon, "and I am a Divine Knight. I won't fight just so you can try to enhance your reputation and prove your might. I only fight for a greater cause." Lannon could see he was provoking the king, but where would it lead? How could Verlamer possibly get him to fight if he refused? "Fight for your survival, then," snarled Verlamer, "as your friends did. Surely that is a worthy cause." "I'd rather not," said Lannon, pressing on. "I prefer to die." This wasn't true, but the king had no way of knowing that. "Very well," said Verlamer. "I know for a fact you cannot defeat me. Therefore, if you win, I will withdraw my army from Dremlock and never trouble this kingdom again--provided it does not trouble me. What say you?" Lannon hesitated, not wanting to appear too eager. "You would offer that reward for a chance to fight me in honorable combat?" "I will put it in writing!" the king growled. Lannon didn't reply, and the king grew more anxious. "Well?" said Verlamer. "What say you? Surely you can't be that stupid! Or are you simply afraid of me? Have I underestimated your courage?" "I'm not afraid," said Lannon. "Freeing my kingdom is a noble cause. If my friends are not harmed, I will agree to this duel. But if I win, I want all of our items--including the White Flamestone--returned to us." "It is done," said Verlamer. "We have agreed to honorable combat. My dream of slaying a Dark Watchman shall at last be realized!"

As if in response, a wolf howled in the woods. Now all Lannon had to do to save Dremlock was defeat a man who some considered to be as powerful as a god and who could pluck burning daggers out of the air. Yet Lannon had defeated Tenneth Bard and the Hand of Tharnin, and those victories gave him confidence. "There is just one issue," said Verlamer. "The Lords and Ladies will be adamantly opposed to a duel of blades, considering your reputation. And even though I have the final say, they find ways to make me miserable if I refuse them. So in order to make this work, we shall have to battle with fists. Do you agree?" Lannon didn't like the sound of that. It would put him at quite a disadvantage to the huge king. But considering what was at stake, he couldn't refuse. "I accept." "Good," said Verlamer. "We can begin with swords--just for show. No fatal blow will be struck. Then we will toss aside our blades and the real duel will begin. The battle will end when one of us is unable to fight on." Lannon nodded. "And now I will it the truth," said Verlamer. "I've been keeping you in the dark about something, Lannon. The battle for Dremlock is not over. We have not entirely secured the kingdom, and Vesselin's order of surrender has been ignored by some. There has been quite of bit of fighting in the tunnels below the kingdom, and after our meeting in Dremlock Hall, Taris Warhawk escaped from his cell in the dead of night. I'm still trying to determine how he succeeded. I do know that he has gone below--probably to with the Dark Knights. This troubles me greatly." Lannon wasn't surprised that Taris had managed it. He seemed to have reached a skill level similar to that of the Birlote Wizards, and any dungeon cell would be hard pressed to contain him. Had Lannon known this, he would have opted to escape and go below to with Taris. Obviously, the sorcerer felt there was still a chance of liberating the kingdom. Lannon groaned. Now, instead of escaping into the mines to help with the war effort, he was bound by honor to fight a duel he could easily lose.

"Taris must believe he can drive me out," said Verlamer, "and then fortify the wall. All without the help of the White Flamestone. That sorcerer knows something that he would share with no one. I could see it in his eyes. There is something greater lurking below Dremlock than the Dark Knights. Taris Warhawk is far too confident. I noticed it from the moment I took him prisoner, yet tormenting the truth out of him would have been impossible. Birlote sorcerers do not yield to pain. Yes, this war is not over. Dremlock still has a plan to prevail, and I will discover it." Lannon had no idea what that plan might be. All he knew was that Vesselin had surrendered and everyone had been taken captive. If there was a plan, as Verlamer believed, it was likely known only to Cordus Landsaver and his Tower Masters. They were the ones ultimately charged with protecting Dremlock, and they seldom shared their secrets. Yet Dremlock had centuries to prepare for invasion, and Lannon couldn't begin to guess at what was taking shape in the tunnels below. "What a waste," said Verlamer, shaking his head. "I was going to place you at the top, Lannon--with only myself ranked above you. You could have done so much for this land. Now you will die, bruised and bloodied. No mortal can defeat me in a duel of fists." He shrugged. "At least you will die with honor, and when you do--for all to see--maybe it will drain the will from those who still fight on in the name of the Divine Essence. Regardless, I will take great pleasure in defeating you." King Verlamer's insanity and ego had once again led him to risk everything to prove a point. This was the opportunity Taris had spoken of while standing shackled in Dremlock Hall. Taris had guessed what was coming. All across Gallamerth, Verlamer had conquered kingdoms and won duels. There was no one more feared than this mighty tyrant. Now he'd come to Dremlock to test his power against the Eye of Divinity. If he defeated Lannon, his reputation would grow. Somehow, Lannon had to put a stop to this madness--for the sake of Gallamerth and even the lands beyond the sea. Lannon now bore the ultimate, crushing burden, and if he failed to win the duel, countless people might suffer as a result.

Chapter 25: The Grand Duel

It was another perfect day for a duel, warm and sunny, with a pleasant breeze blowing across the North Tower Courtyard. As before, there was much merrymaking prior to the duel--though the Lords and Ladies seemed sullen and troubled as they sat at their tables, no doubt hating the thought of what was to come. Once again King Verlamer sat by Lannon, though his demeanor had changed. His mood seemed grim and focused. A platter of meat sat before him, which he ripped into with his pointed teeth and washed down with water. It had been six days since Lannon had agreed to battle the king. Lannon had spent each day in his cell, wondering what was occurring with Taris and the Dark Knights. He'd received adequate food and drink, but he'd been eaten alive by restlessness, pacing about in his cell. Lannon nibbled at a piece of fish and waited for Verlamer to speak. But the king just went on feasting, bearing his sullen expression. "How are things going?" Lannon finally asked. Verlamer looked up. "Well, I convinced them to allow the duel, but they are very displeased. We had to make certain preparations in the event of my demise. It was a very ugly and time-consuming affair. I've gotten little sleep since our discussion in the forest. Some have lost faith in me and would rather see my pathetic excuse for a son take over the throne." He tugged at his beard anxiously, his eyes distant with thought. "I think what is needed is an execution or two to remind them of who is in charge of Bellis. Such a strategy has worked well in the past." Lannon looked away, overcome with disgust. Aside from his love of fishing and history, all the king ever seemed to think about were duels, executions, and invasions. He plotted against those who undoubtedly plotted against him. It was a wretched way of life that turned humans into nothing more than pawns. "How is the war below Dremlock progressing?" asked Lannon, unable to contain himself any longer.

The king glared at him. "You tell me, oh Bearer of the Eye." "I can't see that far," Lannon itted. "It doesn't matter," said Verlamer, waving dismissively. "All you should be focused on is the forthcoming duel." Then he added, "Bellis is always fighting wars. And we always will be fighting wars, until no one is left to conquer." "What will you do then?" asked Lannon, genuinely curious. The king looked uncomfortable. He cleared his throat and adjusted his robe and cape. "I'm not sure. Perhaps what will matter then are the duels. Really, they are all that matter anyway. Two blades clashing in combat is the same as twothousand. I am in a duel of wits with Taris Warhawk, who has surprised me with his resilience. Soon I will be in a duel with you, Lannon. It makes no difference who I fight. All that matters is that I win and live to fight again." "What about your family?" asked Lannon. "Wouldn't you prefer a more peaceful life? How do your wife and children feel about what you do?" Verlamer frowned. "As I said, my son is worthless and wishes me dead. And I had my wife imprisoned shortly after he was born. Why? Because she tried to undermine my power and showed me unforgivable disrespect. She had sympathy for my enemies. She died in that cold prison, and good riddance to her. No woman will get that close to me again." Strangely enough, Lannon pitied the king. In spite of being surrounded people all of the time, his world was as cold and barren as his heart. He was so vile and manipulative he couldn't help but be alone. Anyone who got close to him was a threat to his power and had to be dealt with--even his own wife. Lannon realized that if he would have ed Verlamer's cause, sooner or later the king would have viewed him too as a threat and tried to eliminate him. Verlamer produced a document and handed it to Lannon. "This is the written agreement concerning the duel. Read it carefully and, if you are so inclined, add your signature. I know you are honor-bound to partake in the duel regardless, but I said I would put it in writing and I have honored my word." Verlamer slid a pen and ink bottle over to Lannon. Lannon studied the agreement and found it brief but suitable. It read:

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...

Since honorable duels were typically a spoken agreement rather than a written one, Lannon wasn't sure why the king had even bothered. If Verlamer chose to

break his word, the document would be meaningless. Nevertheless, Lannon signed. "Excellent," said Verlamer, seizing the document. He handed another copy to Lannon. "This is for you to keep, so we each have one." Lannon signed again below the king's signature. He now had proof of his forthcoming duel, for whatever that was worth. As Verlamer studied Lannon's signature and smiled, Lannon realized the truth, and a cold shiver ran down his spine. Verlamer had written out the agreement because he wanted a trophy to add to his collection, a trophy that would be displayed alongside Lannon's sword--and maybe even Lannon's skull. *** The preparations for this duel were different. The pit of spikes was filled with dirt, and a square wooden platform was built to define the arena where the contest would take place. Banners displaying the Crest of Bellis and the Crest of Dremlock stood at the arena corners. Verlamer had sent messages throughout Silverland stating that this duel was a fight for the freedom of Dremlock Kingdom, and many people had arrived to watch--most of them hoping Lannon would be victorious. Wooden seats for the onlookers had been erected, going up several rows. The usual shackled prisoners were also present, including the winners of the previous duels. Verlamer's Dragon lay atop a vine-covered balcony of the North Tower, high above everyone else, his yellow eyes fixed on the scene below in anticipation of the duel. The great drum sounded as Verlamer and Lannon stepped up onto the oaken boards. The crowd was much larger this time, and many of them had consumed wine and ale in abundance (which was free for those who had come to watch). They were loud and aggressive, stomping their feet and shouting for whichever warrior they hoped would win. They were hungry for bloodshed. The reality of the situation struck Lannon hard--as it always did just before a duel--that this might be the day of his death. But he calmed himself and embraced the fact that he was a Divine Knight and a Dark Watchman. He raised

the hood of his Birlote cloak, retreating into himself--into the shadows, in an effort to embrace who and what he was. His Dragon sword was handed to him, and it felt good to grasp it again. Verlamer was given a jeweled sword with a long, golden blade, which he wielded with two hands--the Royal Sword of Bellis. A Bard dressed in white and crimson played a brief tune on a flute and then cried out "The Royal Sword of Bellis versus the Kingdom Sword of Dremlock!" The crowd roared with approval, and flasks were raised. It was not true, however, since Lannon's sword was not the Kingdom Sword (which was made of Troll bones rather than Dragon bones). It was designed to look like the Kingdom Sword, however, and that was good enough for the Bard. The Bard went on: "The Blood of Kings versus the Eye of Divinity! The greatest king to ever live versus the greatest warrior on Gallamerth! The last True King versus the last true Dark Watchman!" The crowd went into a drunken frenzy. The great drum sounded several times like thunder. "Let the best warrior feast in victory tonight!" the Bard screamed with such energy that his voice cracked. He waved his feathered hat at the crowd and then dove headfirst from the platform. He did a somersault and then leapt to his feet, pointing his flute at the crowd, to deafening cheers. A host of beautiful dancers adorned in colorful silk moved around the outside of arena, twirling for the crowd. Then they moved away--replaced by four Guardians who were on hand to make sure things were fair. The Guardians flanked a Thallite giant, who blew a huge ivory horn. Then the Thallite sat down so he wouldn't block the view of some of the onlookers. And then the battle was underway. "Let's trade a few blows," Verlamer mumbled. "Make it look good." Lannon drove in and their blades clashed together. Then they stepped apart, with the king striking a battle pose for the crowd.

"This is magnificent!" he said. He winked at Lannon. "It is worth dying for." "No, it isn't," said Lannon. Verlamer laughed. "Yet you chose death in this arena over a wonderful life at my side, ruling all the land." In response, Lannon did a swift spin move--advancing on Verlamer like a whirlwind. But he only attacked the king's blade. Verlamer swung at Lannon's neck in response--a relatively slow move that Lannon easily ducked. They stepped apart again, circling each other. "Just to remind you," said Verlamer, "that when we cast away our swords, the battle becomes real. I do intend to kill you." "Understood," said Lannon. Verlamer would have to strike the fatal blow when Lannon was standing, however, since the duel allowed for defeat by simply being unable to rise. But from the look on the king's face, Verlamer believed he was easily capable of doing just that. They traded more blows, and Lannon sighed. He wondered how long this play fighting would continue. He was anxious to get to the real thing and find out whether or not he was a match for Verlamer. "One more brilliant move, Lannon," said the king, "and then we shall discard our swords. Try to flip over my head." His Birlote cloak billowing in the breeze, Lannon charged the king. He knocked Verlamer's long blade aside and, using the Eye, leapt up and flipped over Verlamer. It was a spectacular leap over the towering king, though it took a great deal of energy. When Lannon landed on his feet behind Verlamer and spun around, the crowd went berserk. The move was pointless other than for show, but it accomplished what Verlamer wanted and hopefully they could now get on with the duel. Verlamer whirled around, grinning with delight. He held up his sword for the crowd, then tossed it out of the arena. The onlookers booed in uncertainty, perhaps thinking Verlamer was calling off the duel.

Lannon raised his own blade, then discarded it. The crowd jeered and yelled insults. One drunken fool even dared throw a wine flask at the arena--and he was quickly sought out by guards and given a swift beating for his efforts that left him bruised and dazed. Then Verlamer raised his fists, and the boos turned back into cheers. Lannon raised his own, flooding himself with the Eye. "Now it begins," said Verlamer. "Defend yourself!" The two fighters moved in and traded blows, and in a matter of seconds Lannon realized the grim truth--that Verlamer was possibly too fast, too skilled, and too strong for him. Lannon failed to land a single blow, but the king struck Lannon three times. The blows were vicious from Verlamer's huge, bony fists, leaving Lannon dazed and battered as he backed away. "How does that feel?" said Verlamer, cracking his knuckles as he circled Lannon. "Did you like that, boy? I've got some more for you." Lannon gazed at the king in shock. In an instant, the playful duel had turned sinister, and now Lannon was struggling to figure out how he would survive. He had pain in his shoulder and his ribs from the king's punches. Verlamer kissed his knuckles and then motioned to him. "Come and get it, Dark Watchman. Whenever you're ready." Lannon needed time to think, but there was no time. If he didn't charge Verlamer, then Verlamer would charge him--and Lannon wasn't sure he could stay on his feet through another flurry of blows. Again he drove the Eye into his fists and flung himself at Verlamer. He launched a mighty uppercut at the king's chin, but connected only with air. Verlamer was like a fleeting shadow moving away from the light. Lannon couldn't manage to touch him. Lannon blocked a brutal swing, and then two more. He couldn't find an opening to strike back, as he was too busy trying to keep his head from being battered into pudding. All he could do was block and duck, as a grinning Verlamer drove Lannon to the edge of the platform.

In desperation, Lannon froze the king--with Verlamer's fist inches from Lannon's nose. Lannon shoved the grimacing king backwards with a burst of energy, but it was no easy task. Verlamer's resistance to the Eye was mighty, but it gave Lannon a few seconds to move around him to the center of the platform. Verlamer whirled around, his face crimson with rage. "Cheater!" he cried. "This was supposed to be a duel of hands, not outright sorcery! I should declare myself the winner and be done with this!" "I didn't know it wasn't allowed," said Lannon, as he stood panting from exertion. "I'll just use my hands, then. Give me another chance." "One more chance," Verlamer muttered. "I want the satisfaction of crushing you in a fair fight. Now come at me like a man!" Lannon moved forward, wondering what to try now. Before he got a chance to make a move, Verlamer drove in on him and landed a massive blow to Lannon's jaw. Lannon tried to shield himself with the Eye on instinct, but the blow still knocked him off his feet. He landed on his back with a thud, nearly unconscious. Lannon gazed up in disbelief at the blue sky, his vision darkening as dizziness pounded through him in waves. Then he realized Verlamer was standing over him gloating. The king pointed down at Lannon. "I own you, Dark Watchman!" He knelt and put his bearded face inches from Lannon's bruised face. "How do you like it, boy? Get on your feet and have some more. Don't you dare fall asleep!" Lannon fought to stay conscious. The king was right--he did own Lannon. Lannon had made a dire mistake in thinking he could best Verlamer in a duel of fists. In fact, Lannon hadn't yet been able to land a blow. The Thallite giant began counting down outside the arena, pointing his finger at Lannon as he bellowed out each number. Before he got down to zero, Lannon made a frantic effort to rise. The Eye helped him struggle to his feet, and he stood facing the king, still battling to stay conscious. "Not done yet!" Verlamer shouted to the crowd. He raised his fist that was nearly the size of Lannon's head and pointed it at the lad. "I promise you the next blow will snap your neck!"

Having no choice, Lannon shielded himself completely with the Eye. He needed a moment to come up with a strategy, and this was the only way he could hope to claim that moment. Verlamer's fist slammed into Lannon's face with the force of a door-breaking battering ram. The energy from the Eye absorbed most of the impact, but Lannon was thrown onto his back again. Verlamer raised his hands in victory, thinking Lannon was finished. The Thallite giant began the count again. Lannon searched his mind for answers. Verlamer was far stronger and faster than Lannon had ever imagined. In a duel of sword skills, the fight would have been different, and the cunning king had known that. The Eye of Divinity was simply not nearly as effective when used in hand-to-hand combat as it was when channeled into a blade like Lannon's Dragon sword. This was a wretched way for the duel to end, but Lannon knew if he stayed down his life would be spared. Yet a loss to Verlamer would do tremendous damage to the morale of the Divine Knights. Their struggle was too important for him to quit. He owed it to his friends, his kingdom, and his god to rise again. His mind drifted back to Ollanhar--the Watchman's Keep. He ed watching the battle from ancient times between Londa Spiritwind and the mighty Troll. And then he suddenly knew what the lesson meant. The fighting style and the warrior were one and the same. Londa hadn't adopted a different style to defeat the Troll. Instead, she'd become a different person and the style had shifted accordingly. And then Lannon knew what he had to do. He was fighting the way the king wanted him to--copying Verlamer's style--and that would lead to certain defeat. He needed to become a new warrior with a style the king did not understand. Lannon flooded his muscles with the Eye, as the Thallite's count reached three. He climbed to his feet and once again stood facing the king, his chest heaving. He relaxed his mind and body, letting himself become like the great bears that wandered the forests and wrestled with each other in the sunlit clearings. He focused on weight and strength, and quick, explosive movements that could conserve energy. And he waited patiently for the king to strike. Sensing that Lannon was doing something new, Verlamer moved forward cautiously. When Lannon still didn't move, the king swung at his face again. But

Lannon had anticipated the strike, and he knocked Verlamer's arm aside and moved in on him, wrapping him in a bear hug. In spite of the king immense strength, the Eye was very focused and Lannon's hold did not yield. He squeezed Verlamer like an enraged bear, as the king fought to break free. It must have appeared odd to the crowd--this much smaller man grappling with the giant king. Slowly, Lannon dragged Verlamer to the floor. The king fought viciously to break free, but the Eye would not permit it. Inch by inch, Lannon worked the King of Bellis into a firm choke hold. "It's over!" Lannon grunted. "Submit before I kill you!" "I'll...die...first..." Verlamer croaked. In truth, Lannon wasn't sure he could actually kill Verlamer this way. He was applying all the pressure he could to the king's throat, and the king was still conscious. But Verlamer didn't know that. "As you wish," said Lannon. "Now I'm going to finish you!" "Wait!" Verlamer croaked. The king's strength suddenly seemed to be failing, as Lannon's forearm squeezed tighter into his neck. "I...submit. Don't...kill..." "Signal the crowd!" Lannon demanded. Verlamer raised his hand, palm toward the crowd. He held it there for five seconds, indicating his submission, as many of the onlookers cheered and some-his own people--booed or cried out in dismay. Lannon released Verlamer and stood up, relief flooding through him. He was trembling, wondering what would happen next. Verlamer rose, anguish and hate in his eyes. "You didn't defeat me with your fists, Lannon. It wasn't fair." But his tone lacked conviction. "It was a duel of bare hands," said Lannon, "and I used my bare hands. It was fair and you know it." Verlamer glanced toward his Guardians. He seemed to be considering whether or not he would honor the results of the duel. The Dragon flew from the tower

balcony and circled overhead, eyes on Lannon. "Don't be a fool," said Lannon, thinking Verlamer was going to declare himself the winner in spite of his submission. "You gave the signal. No true king would ever betray an honorable duel. People everywhere would consider you a sorry wretch. You would lose all respect." When Verlamer didn't answer, Lannon walked to the edge of the arena. His Dragon sword was being held by one of the Guardians. Using the Eye, he ripped it from the warrior's hand and brought it to his own. The Guardians ran to the platform's edge, but stood waiting for commands. Verlamer turned toward him, looking miserable. "Not a fair duel. I had you beaten, Sunshield. You had no answer for my fists." "The battle for Dremlock isn't over," said Lannon. "You said it yourself. The fight continues below. Honor the duel, or not only will you be scorned throughout Gallamerth, but I will escape this arena. Your warriors can't stop me. I will go to Taris, and we will eventually free this kingdom." "Your threats cause me no concern," said Verlamer. "This is the end," said Lannon. "Leave Dremlock alone. You don't need it anyway. If you choose to continue this fight, I make you a promise that I will deal with you personally." Lannon was surprised by the sinister tone in which he spoke, as a strange sense of power and invincibility flooded through him. Something was awakening inside him--something dark and ancient. As Verlamer gazed into Lannon's eyes, the king glimpsed something that made him look away with a shudder. "Give me the White Flamestone!" Lannon demanded, extending his hand. "I know you carry it in your robe. I will return it to Prince Vannas." Lannon wasn't sure if Verlamer actually had it in his robe at the moment, but Verlamer didn't know that. Lannon wanted to make sure the king didn't try to slip away with it. It was, after all, the most important of Dremlock's treasures. Verlamer hesitated, then withdrew it from his robe. He tossed it to Lannon. "I have no use for it. There are other pretty stones..."

The king turned away. But then he turned toward Lannon again, a look of pleading on his face. "One more duel, Lannon. Fists only, to the death. Name your reward!" "No more duels," said Lannon. "The deed is done, and you are bound by honor to withdraw from my kingdom at once!" Verlamer's gaze lingered on him for a moment. Then the King of Bellis turned and walked away.

Chapter 26: The Council of Ollanhar

King Verlamer was true to his word. He dared not defy the results of honorable combat, for it might have turned his own people against him, enraged the Birlotes and Olrogs, and perhaps even earned him the wrath of Tharnin (which was a lawful realm in spite of its evil). Embarrassed over his defeat and wanting to move on, he spent a night in seclusion and then departed from Dremlock the next morning. Crowds of riders and wagons began to depart down the mountainside. The departure was peaceful, as Dremlock's Knights and Squires worked with Bellis' servants to get things done in a swift, smooth fashion. And so Verlamer left in silence, his conflict with Dremlock ended (unless the Divine Knights chose to seek a war), but his goal of conquering the rest of the land was still intact. The Mad King of Bellis would march on, his desire for the game of strategy and combat never satisfied. He left Dremlock, and Bellis' strange god went with him--the unknown man who wore a helm that resembled the head of a golden bull and who carried a great horn, a god who had been in hiding for several days. It was a strange departure of strange characters. But as the last rider departed and the gates of Darkender Tunnel were sealed, the Divine Knights were left with a lot of work to be done. The kingdom had sustained a lot of damage, and many Knights were injured. For three weeks afterward the Knights and Squires worked hard at restoring the kingdom to its former glory. Meanwhile, messages were sent to the people who had dwelt on the mountainside, informing them it was safe to return to their homes and businesses. Dremlock had endured once again, but the rest of Silverland remained under the Banner of Bellis. Trade with the cities would be difficult, and tension would be high. Everyone was left wondering if peace could actually be sustained. *** When the restoration of Dremlock was complete, a gathering was called in the Great Hall in the evening. Aside from dozens of Divine Knights, the High Council--which now included Fadar Stonebow--was present, along with the

Divine Shield. Valedos and the Nine Axes were also there, and Bekka Nightspear. An extravagant feast took place, while they waited for a special guest to appear. There was much talking and laughing in the hall by the glow of the fireplace and torches. The suits of armor and paintings on the walls of famous Knights were cast in the flickering, crimson light. It was a warm, relaxed atmosphere. Everyone was tired for all the hard work and ready to indulge in some merrymaking. After a bit, the special guest emerged from a back room, limping as he walked with a cane. It was Cordus Landsaver. The crowd cheered. Lannon and his friends were delighted to see the Lord Knight up and about--although the assassination attempt had clearly taken quite a toll on Cordus. He looked older, with his hair a bit more grey, and he wore a green robe instead of his usual shining breastplate. His steps were slow, and he paused briefly to rest, leaning on the cane. He smiled down at Lannon and patted him on the shoulder as he walked past. As Cordus stood before the tables, his eyes showed tears of with emotion even before he began to speak. He'd always been an emotional man, ruling Dremlock with intensity and ion, but seldom did a Divine Knight show tears. Cordus wiped his eyes on his sleeve and composed himself. "My friends," the Lord Knight said at last. "We have suffered so much to save this kingdom, yet we have endured. Krissana and Barlow are gone, along with many of our greatest Knights, and their sacrifice will not be forgotten. We will hold a funeral for Krissana tomorrow evening, and I promise you she will be honored properly as one of our greatest leaders. After that, we will hold a funeral each night until all have been laid to rest--including those who remain missing in the tunnels beneath Kalamede. No one will be forgotten." Cordus bowed his head for a moment and then continued, "I am proud to say that Dremlock never wavered in its battle with Bellis. I can now reveal that Vesselin Hopebringer's order of surrender--which was a decision that I approve of and which the Divine Essence itself showed for--was made without knowledge of the full situation. Vesselin did not know what forces lurk below this kingdom--forces which I am not at liberty to reveal, even though rumors have spread throughout Dremlock and some of the truth is now known. All I can

say is that the war was not over, even after the towers fell." Cordus sipped some water, then went on, "However, it was Lannon Sunshield who prevented a great deal of bloodshed. Had Lannon not defeated Verlamer in the duel, many warriors would have perished." Cordus' face was grim. "The bloodiest battle was yet to come, and Lannon removed the need for it and drove the mad king permanently out of Dremlock. His deed is legendary!" The crowd roared. Lannon's face reddened a bit. It felt good to be praised, but he wasn't sure he deserved it. He'd made many mistakes since coming to Dremlock, some that were very costly. While others viewed him as a great hero, he wondered if he could have done more and what the future would hold. Could he escape the dreadful fate of his processors? Somehow, he knew he must do so. Cordus' expression darkened again. "Nevertheless, the threat of Bellis remains in Silverland--for now. Yet we must focus on strengthening Dremlock and expanding, so that we can compete with King Verlamer. I'm not talking about conquering. Rather, I speak of recruiting. We need to increase our efforts in finding new Squires. We also need to establish new fortresses and spread out a bit." Cordus seemed to lose focus for a moment, his mind perhaps foggy from the pain of his wounds. Then he smiled. "We will grow stronger than ever, my friends. Now...my body hurts and I must soon rest. First, I would like to honor those who deserve it the most. These promotions will be verbal for now, as we don't yet have the proper sashes made up--but they will be official. "First, I want to honor Lannon Sunshield for his courage and heroism. He has done deeds that have far sured my expectations. I am promoting Lannon to the highest rank a Watchman can obtain. He is now granted the freedom to come and go from Dremlock as he chooses--within reason--and decide his own missions. He will answer only to the Lord Knight and his Tower Masters. Lannon Sunshield--you are now the High Watchman of Dremlock!" Lannon bowed, in awe that Cordus and the rest of the High Council felt he was so important to the fate of the land. Yet once again he was left wondering what this would mean for him in the future. His joy was tainted by uncertainty. He was the High Watchman. He was the only Watchman. There were no others for him to share his burdens with, and for a moment he was overcome by a lonely

feeling. Then he ed that he still had his friends--his Grey Keepers-who would be by his side in the future to help him with his struggles. "Next," Cordus went on, "I would like to honor Vorden Flameblade, who fought with great courage against the Thallite. I hereby promote him to the rank of Divine Knight. And his Color Class will be Red." Jerret clapped him on the back. "We will be great together on the battlefield, my friend." Vorden bowed to Cordus, but his face was somber. Like Lannon, he was uncertain about the future. Each of Lannon's other Grey Keepers was promoted to a higher rank called a True Sword, except for Dallsa, who remained a Squire. "Now I have a bit more to mention," said Cordus. He hesitated, his gaze slowly sweeping the crowd. He sighed. "I...am not myself lately. I probably should have died... I probably would have, if the Divine Essence hadn't protected me. But it did not heal me, and I take that as a sign that my reign as Lord Knight...must come to an end. I am hereby announcing my forthcoming--and soon to be-official retirement from the affairs of Knighthood." The crowd erupted into boos and exchanged unhappy looks. Lannon's heart sank, but he knew it was a good decision for Cordus. The Lord Knight was clearly diminished from the assassination attempt, and he needed rest and relaxation away from all the troubles that Dremlock faced. "My time is ended," said Cordus, "and Dremlock is still free. I feel my task is done. I intend to spend a lot of time chatting in a building that I purchased sometime ago further down the mountain. I have given up drinking wine--and my resolve is firm--so do not fret over my next statement. Yes, I am the proud owner of the Divine Inn of Unending Merrymaking! And I hear it's still fully intact and ready to receive its new master. I will be headed there for a life of peace and quiet, but I won't be far from the kingdom if my advice is still sought." "You won't miss me," said Cordus, and the crowd booed. He chuckled. "Taris Warhawk has also spoken of retirement and returning to Borenthia, but he has

decided--thankfully--to stay with us for a while. As you all might have guessed, he will be promoted to Lord Knight when I step down. Trenton Shadowbane will take over as the East Tower Master, and Fadar Stonebow has expressed an interest in replacing him as the Investigator, so that will be put to a vote. Now I believe Vesselin Hopebringer has something he would like to say." Vesselin rose, brushing his long white beard from the tabletop. "I want to announce my retirement as well. In fact, it is probably long overdue. Good people of Dremlock, I've had enough! I want to fish." Due to Vesselin's age, this was a more lighthearted and expected announcement, and the crowd cheered for him. Cordus smiled. "Perhaps I will go fishing with you on occasion, old friend. We will have much to talk about." Vesselin nodded. "And I will visit your inn, though I do not drink wine anymore either--or any other spirits for that matter." Cordus grinned. "We can sip milk and chat about old times!" The crowd laughed--yet some of the more sentimental Knights had tears in their eyes and quickly wiped them away. "I have...new knowledge," said Vesselin, "that I would like to share before I go. Knowledge given to me by the Divine Essence. I hope it will serve this kingdom well." With that, the old man sat down again. "Now that everyone has feasted," said Cordus, "I would like to close this Hall to all but Taris Warhawk, Bekka Nightspear, and the Divine Shield. Everyone else can return to their business, whatever it might be." *** When the others had left and the Great Hall was quiet, Taris poured a cup of tea. He sipped at it thoughtfully and frowned. "Bellis used up all the good tea and left us...this. A cheap Norack blend. Very unfortunate." "The same is true of the wine and ale," said Daledus. "Only the best for Verlamer and his rats." He winked at Lannon. "I hope you squeezed his neck a little harder

for replacing our Olrog ale with his Norack swill." "Actually, I had no idea," said Lannon. "I don't drink ale." Daledus shook his head in bafflement. "I like Norack ale," said Jace. Unlike the others, he was still eating--after clearing two platters of food. Before him was a heap of sliced bread and cheese. "It's a bit mild compared to the Dwarven stuff, but otherwise it's fine." "Norack ale is vile," said Trenton, a disdainful look on his face. "I hate to say it, but our wine, ale, and tobacco is vastly inferior to that of the Olrogs and Birlotes. Jace, you seem so enlightened about history and culture, and yet you indulge in any cheap Norack products you can get your hands on." Jace shrugged. "My snobbery is not reserved for food, drink, or pipe leaf. If it has a hint of flavor, it over to me." "I'm fine with Norack products," said Lothrin, rising to add a log to the fireplace. He stirred the fire with a poker and added, "Of course, I've spent most of my life living as a lowly Ranger. You learn to appreciate simple pleasures." "Exactly," said Jace. "I too have wandered the land--sometimes with barely enough to eat. They don't call me The Wanderer for nothing." Trenton smiled. "You wandered right into a trap." "It's not the first time I've been snared," said Jace. "And you were right there with me, as helpless as a newborn baby. But why didn't you escape, Trenton? Surely that cell couldn't hold you." Trenton shrugged. "The same could be asked of Lannon, who can open locks without touching them. I defer the question to him." "I considered escaping," Lannon itted, "but I was afraid of what might happen to the rest of you. I guess Verlamer had me convinced not to try it." "That was my reasoning as well," said Trenton. "Oh, I wanted to break free. It took great patience to wallow in that dungeon cell."

"What about you, Jace?" asked Daledus, who was seated next to the giant. "Surely a sorcerer of your skill should have been able to get through those bars somehow. Couldn't you teleport to freedom or something?" Jace smiled. "Sadly, my teleportation skills are somewhat lacking." "But couldn't you have found a way out?" asked Daledus, nudging Jace with his elbow. "Taris managed it. Is he that much better than you?" Jace shrugged. "I was too busy sleeping." "Sleeping?" The Dwarf shook his head. "I'll never understand you spell casters. By the way, how did you escape, Taris?" "I walked between the bars," said Taris. Daledus laughed heartily, then stopped when he saw that Taris' face bore a serious expression. The Dwarf took a huge drink of ale, then said, "Anyway, glad we all survived. I'll drink to that." "Or anything else," said Furlus, tipping up his own oversized mug. Some of the ale ran down his great beard, and he slammed the empty mug down on the table. " me some more of that Norack swill!" "What shall I drink to?" said Galvia, gazing at her mug. Her smooth, round face was aglow in the firelight with happiness. "There are so many possibilities." "I'll drink in honor of the future Lord Knight," said Jerret, "and the future East Tower Master." He raised his wooden mug, which was carved with an image of a winding Dragon. "Dremlock will be stronger than ever." "East Tower Master," said Trenton, nodding. "I like the sound of that. I had grown a bit weary of my role as the Investigator." "I thought you wanted to retire, Trenton," said Shennen. "Weren't you recently whining about how old you were getting? What happened?" "And I thought the same of you, Shennen," said Trenton. "It appears we've both decided there is more work to be done."

"Yes, we are fools," said Shennen. "Yet if my dagger had pierced King Verlamer's heart, I would have retired--in life or in death. But that miss continues to haunt me and motivate me. So...let us drink to being fools. To the bitter end!" They raised their mugs and drank. "Indeed," said Taris, "it is difficult to retire when so much is at stake. Many changes must occur if Dremlock is to survive--and that is the purpose of this meeting. We have a serious topic to discuss." Daledus' eyes widened. "What is this serious talk, sorcerer? I just want to relax. You mean we're not here merely to feast and drink?" "Hardly," said Taris, setting his teacup aside. "We are here to ensure that what happened to Dremlock never happens again. We were pushed right to the edge of destruction--closer, perhaps, than ever before." "But thanks to Lannon we won," said Dallsa, her eyes shining as she gazed at the Dark Watchman. "You're the absolute best, Lannon." "Thank you," said Lannon, feeling a bit uncomfortable from the attention. "I just did what I thought was necessary." "It wasn't just Lannon," said Taris. "King Verlamer had another problem on his hands, which I shall refer to as the Lower Army." "The Dark Knights," said Daledus, proudly. "Yes--and something more," said Taris, "which Cordus spoke of earlier. I will only say that the Divine Essence sometimes recruits its own fighters, and they are mighty. Nevertheless, we could have lost this conflict. And we could still lose. Tenneth Bard may still be alive and plotting against us. The Blood Legion will try to rebuild, as it always does. The war against Tharnin continues. And King Verlamer may break his agreement. Or a future king may do so. Cordus was right. We need to get active, and that begins with expanding and finding new resources." "Lannon will lead the first expansion," said Furlus. "He will establish a fortress at Ollanhar, like we had in ancient times. This fortress is sure to be challenged by Bellis, but we will not back down."

"The Watchman's Keep?" said Lannon, surprised at the suggestion. "But it's corrupted by the Deep Shadow." "Yes," said Taris. "It will need to be cleansed. The task won't be easy and will require the help of the White Knights." "I can help you, Lannon," said Dallsa. "Well, if I get some training." "You'll get plenty of training," said Aldreya, smiling. "There are areas of Silverland," said Taris, "that are still free of Bellis. We must act quickly to occupy those areas and begin pushing back. This is a direct order from the Divine Essence." "Our god has decided on a new strategy," said Furlus. His eyes smoldered fiercely with pride. "One that I fully embrace. For the sake of Gallamerth, we must begin expanding, until Bellis has reason to fear us." "We are the Council of Ollanhar," said Taris. "Everyone in this room is now charged with restoring and maintaining that tower fortress. Lannon and his Grey Keepers are now the Knights of Ollanhar. Much is demanded of you, and you must strive to take your skills to a higher level. You will also have a host of Blue and Grey Knights at the tower and some Orange Squires under your command." Lannon bowed. "I am ready to serve."

End.

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