Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin (21 page)

It was a pleasant day for riding, with the soothing fall breeze taking the edge off the heat. The Knights seemed in good spirits, chatting and laughing, their colored sashes, banners, and armor matching the fall leaves around them. They followed the trail to the base of the mountain and then took Boulder Road that led north through a wooded valley. The scent of pine filled the valley air. Lannon was certain the Knights' confidence stemmed from acquiring the White Flamestone. He knew his own confidence had increased since Dremlock's new weapon had been revealed. With the Divine Essence firmly on their side, surely they couldn't lose. How could their foes, (the Hand of Tharnin on their side or not) stand against the power of a god?

That evening, after leaving the wooded valley they camped in a large, grassy field by the road. Many watch fires were lit, over which fresh meat was roasted. These northern lands were sparsely inhabited by people, and wildlife was everywhere. With a dozen Rangers to hunt for them, fresh meat was easy to come by.

Lannon, Vannas, and the Divine Shield were gathered around one fire, along with Furlus (who seemed to consume more meat than the rest of the Divine Shield put together). The mood was festive--almost as if they were going to some grand celebration rather than war with an ancient enemy.

"We have a bard with us somewhere," said Furlus, wiping grease from his beard. "Bazil Bearpaw. Shall I summon him for some entertainment? Tonight, we will not speak of anything concerning our mission. Tonight we celebrate."

Trenton chewed at a small piece of meat and took a sip of water. "I don't like Bazil. I find him quite annoying."

"You would!" said Furlus, scowling at the Investigator. "No sense of humor. None at all. When is the last time you had a good laugh?"

Trenton glowered at the Grey Dwarf, but said nothing.

"He's a fine bard," said Shennen. "I'll go and find him." The Blue Knight rose, a lean shadow in the firelight. "I want to scout around a bit, anyway."

"Relax, Shennen," said Furlus. "Sit, and have some food and drink. No threat exists here, amongst all of these Knights."

Hesitantly, Shennen did as Furlus ordered, his face sullen. He grabbed an apple from a bowl and crunched into it, yet his eyes gazed restlessly beyond the firelight.

"What's bothering you, my friend?" Furlus asked.

"I don't know," said Shennen. "I feel like something is watching us--perhaps from the night sky."

Furlus waved his hand dismissively. "It could be a Blood Legion spy. What does it matter? We're going to war. Let them spy on us all they want and prepare a thousand ambushes. Our own spies will guide us through to victory. They want war, they expect war, and war is what they will get!"

Shennen nodded. "True enough. But whatever I am sensing still troubles me. I...I have been on edge since Willan's death."

Furlus bowed his head, a look of pity on his face. "You need to quit blaming yourself for that. Both you and Willan thought it was the right choice. I might have made the same choice. It's just the way of things."

"I care not to speak of this," said Shennen, his face reddening a bit. "Especially in front of the Squires. I shouldn't have brought up the subject."

"Then shut your mouth and eat," said Furlus.

"I need my mouth
open
to eat," said Shennen, managing a smile. He seized a flask of ale. "Let's celebrate then. Where's that bard?"

Furlus chuckled and patted Shennen on the back. "Hey Bard!" he bellowed. "Get over here!"

"Why don't we have a duel?" said Jerret, standing up. "We could fashion some wooden swords from sticks and have a contest."

"Predictable request," said Trenton, "from a Squire who doesn't seem to know how to take a break from training."

Jerret shrugged. "Aren't Squires supposed to train?"

"In a reasonable fashion, yes," said Trenton. "Not like some obsessed fool. I think you've let this Divine Shield business overcome your common sense. I should give you a duel and leave you with a healthy bruise for your troubles."

Jerret rolled his eyes. "Anyway, who wants to have a duel--other than a Green Knight who would obviously be too much for me to handle?"

Trenton sneered and mumbled "Coward."

Jerret winced at the insult, but said nothing. It was clear that in spite of his new confidence, Jerret feared the Investigator. Aside from being a Green Knight, Trenton also harbored the bizarre ability to transform into a raging wolf monster.

"Jerret isn't a coward, Trenton," said Furlus, slapping the ground. His grey eyes, set beneath his drooping brows, twinkled with amusement. "Look at him standing there fearlessly, ready for combat! Someone should give him his duel. What about you, Jace? I think you could use some practice."

"I would rather eat, smoke my pipe, and go to sleep," said Jace, yawning. "So count me out of any duels."

Vannas grinned. "I wouldn't mind a duel. What about you, Lannon?"

Lannon shrugged. "I'm not much for that sort of thing."

"I think it's a good idea," said Furlus, winking. He called some Rangers over and sent them to gather sticks from a nearby stretch of woods.

Jerret tied his long blond hair back in a ponytail and then stretched his muscles, grinning. "I'll take on anywhere here, including the Knights!" He glanced nervously at Trenton. "Except for the
Green
Knights, of course."

Shennen laughed. "So you would battle me as well, Jerret? I'm not yet a Green Knight. And how do you think you would fare?"

"Not very well," said Jerret, still grinning.

That brought out booming laughter from everyone.

"But I think I can handle any Squire with ease," said Jerret. "And some of the Knights too. I'm serious."

Vannas rose. The Birlote prince stood several inches taller than Jerret. "Is that so? I know a thing or two about swordplay, so perhaps it would not be as easy to defeat me as you think. I would be happy to partake in a duel with you."

"No, not you," Furlus muttered, motioning for Vannas to sit. "Can't risk you taking a blow to the head should Jerret get carried away. You either, Lannon. Anyone else is welcome to give it a try. The winner gets a flask of high quality Olrog ale. Of course, if the Squire wins, he has to wait until he is a Knight to drink it."

"Olrog ale?" said Jerret. "That's worth fighting for!"

The Rangers returned and tossed some sword-sticks on the ground. A large circle of onlookers soon formed around the fire.

Jerret lifted a heavy stick and looked around. "So who will it be?"

A young, arrogant Brown Knight named Melran Lighthammer stepped forward to cheers from the onlookers. He tossed his shield aside. He was a few years older than Jerret, but about the same size. "With all due respect, Jerret," Melran said, "no Squire can beat a fully trained Knight. Not in fair combat. But if you want to learn a lesson, I'm ready to teach it!"

The onlookers boomed laughter.

"An undersized Brownie and an oversized Squire," mused Thrake Wolfaxe, raising his ale flask. "I think it's a perfect match."

"You'll likely get your head smashed in, Jerret," said Furlus, chuckling. "I admire your spirit, but Melran is right. You're not experienced enough or strong enough to defeat a Divine Knight."

Jerret's lips tightened. "We'll see about that."

The sword-sticks clattered together several times, as Squire and Knight circled each other. Jerret took a blow to the leg that made him hop, but he stayed on his feet. Melran sighed and seemed to lower his guard, as if Jerret were not worth his time. Jerret lunged in and caught Melran with a solid blow to the shoulder that drove the arrogant look off his face.

Melran's eyes widened. "Oh, so you want to make this a little more serious, huh?" His face red with embarrassment and anger, he launched a flurry of blows at Jerret. Jerret blocked all but one that glanced off his arm.

Again they circled each other, sweat dripping from their brows, and now Melran was alert to Jerret's skill and in full defensive posture.

"You're looking a bit scared, Melran," Jerret mocked. "I can see it in your eyes."

The onlookers roared laughter.

Melran's face twisted into a sneer. "Keeping talking, Squire. When all is said and done, you're going to have some shiny new bruises."

They clashed again, trying to overpower each other with brute strength. Knights were typically much stronger than Squires, but Jerret managed to push Melran backwards a bit. For a moment, Melran looked horrified at the prospect that Jerret might defeat him--a shame that was certain to torment him for a long time.

Then a new light sprang into Melran's eyes--a light of power that further separated Knights from Squires. Now charged with sorcery, Melran drove Jerret back and knocked his legs out from under him. Jerret started to rise, and Melran raised the stick for a downward swing, his face contorted with rage.

"Enough!" Furlus muttered. "Jerret fought well."

Melran bowed to Furlus and helped Jerret to his feet. Even though he'd lost, Jerret had a broad grin on his face. "Get a bit more than you bargained for, Melran? I'm guessing you weren't expecting that, right?"

Melran nodded and managed a smile. "You've done well with your training, Jerret. You'll make a fine Knight."

They clasped hands.

"It was a good duel," said Furlus, "but that's enough for tonight. Melran gets the ale. But, Jerret, you should be proud of yourself."

Jerret nodded and wiped sweat from his face. "Thank you, Master Furlus. I just wanted to test myself. I knew I was going to lose."

Furlus' face darkened. He pointed at Jerret. "Don't ever assume you will lose, Squire, no matter what foe you face." He took a huge swig of ale and half of it ran down his beard. He cursed.

Jerret bowed. "I'll bear that in mind, Master Furlus."

"You fought well, Jerret," said Aldreya.

"Yes, nicely done," said Lannon.

"I'm impressed by your skill, Jerret," said Vannas. "However, I'm still convinced I would have defeated you."

Jerret nodded. "Maybe so, Prince Vannas. But you're not the one I want to defeat." His eyes seemed distant. "The one I
must
defeat..."

"What do you mean?" said Lannon, suddenly feeling chilled.

But Jerret didn't reply.

Loud snoring reached their ears from Jace. The giant, cloaked man had been sound asleep through the duel, and his ale flask had tipped over.

***

Later that evening, when the Knights seemed to be sleeping and only the Squires remained awake by the fire, Vannas took the White Flamestone from its black pouch and held it up. The radiant glow engulfed the campsite, causing people to stir, and he quickly cupped his hands around it to diminish the light. "The key to our victory," he said, his green eyes shining with their own fire.

"Be careful, Prince Vannas," said Lannon, glancing about nervously. "Perhaps you should keep it concealed."

Vannas glared at him, his devilish Birlote features making his handsome face look sinister. "Don't be jealous of this magnificent gift, my friend. And I assure you that no foe can remove this from my hand. It is almost...a part of me now. It's something you cannot understand."

"I'm not jealous," Lannon mumbled, his face growing red. "I'm just being cautious."

"I think my cousin knows his business," said Aldreya. "I'm guessing he has been trained extensively in the use of the Flamestone."

"I have," said Vannas, his voice full of pride. "I know this device like you know your sword, Lannon. And it knows
me
."

"Overconfidence is a wretched weakness," said Jerret, poking a stick at the fire and sending up sparks. "It can consume you."

Vannas' eyes widened. "I find that rather insulting, Jerret. I am a Prince of Borenthia, yet you dare accuse me of overconfidence?"

"You're just a Squire at Dremlock," said Jerret, "unless I'm mistaken. A very important one, yes, but still a Squire."

"Don't be a fool," said Vannas, rising to his feet with a menacing look on his face. He put the White Flamestone away and balled up his fist. "You are still required to respect me as royalty. You fought well earlier, but now you make a fool of yourself, Jerret Dragonsbane."

"Vannas is correct," said Aldreya. "You're being quite rude, Jerret. My cousin was called upon by the Divine Essence for a great purpose."

"Sure," said Jerret, sneering, "and Birlotes know all about rudeness. Every word that comes out of a Birlote's mouth is rude."

"Taris, who might die soon, is a Birlote," said Lannon, hoping to shame Jerret into silence. "And Taris has always been kind to you, Jerret."

"I feel bad about Taris," said Jerret, looking a bit sheepish. "I'm just saying that we shouldn't be overconfident. And I have a destiny too, by the way--one I take very seriously. I'm not a prince, and the Divine Essence didn't bless me with any great gift, but I have a purpose on this journey nonetheless."

They fell silent for a moment. Vannas' anger seemed to diminish at Jerret's words. He extended his hand. "I can respect your belief in your destiny, Jerret, whatever it may be. I offer you my hand and ask only for respect in return."

Aldreya nodded to Jerret, her face tense. "The prince offers his hand. I strongly suggest you accept it."

"Let's just try to get along," said Lannon, wishing they weren't acting like fools when so much was at stake. "We're all part of this Divine Shield or what have you. We need to be friends."

Sighing, Jerret rose and accepted the handshake. "Okay, I've got your back...
Prince
Vannas."

"And I have yours, Jerret Dragonsbane," Vannas said, smiling.

"Good," said Lannon. "Now maybe we can get some sleep."

But a lean shadow suddenly appeared next to Jerret. It was Shennen, and he squatted down, his hand on Jerret's shoulder. "I'm glad you accepted the prince's gesture of friendship," he said in a low voice. "Well done, Squire."

"Thank you, Master Shennen," said Jerret, looking nervous.

"But...I am concerned with you," said Shennen. "You seem to have a habit of insulting Birlotes because you cannot understand our ways. I realize you're just a young man and that young people act like fools. However, you go too far with it. Yes, I am greatly concerned with you..."