Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin (29 page)

Lannon sighed. "I see you've accomplished your goal, Timlin."

"Yes," said Timlin, finally giving a hint of a smile. "I'm now a Legion Soldier. Actually, I'm a Legion
Knight,
and second in command. It wasn't easy getting here, though, but well worth the struggle."

Lannon wasn't sure what to say and stood in silence. At last he said, "So now that I'm here, what is to be done with me?"

"I was hoping you would join us, of course," said Vorden. "When I spared your life and warned you not to come north--I knew you would come anyway. You've got the blood of a hero in your veins, Lannon. I expected nothing less than for you to end up standing before me."

Lannon shook his head in disbelief. "But attempts were made on my life, Vorden. You must have wanted me dead."

"Nonsense," said Vorden, waving in a dismissive gesture. "I knew you would survive. My real goal all along was to take you prisoner, though I knew it would be difficult. Are you referring to the Pit Crawler? I did not plan that attack, first of all. I was busy searching for Timlin when that took place. And the goal was not to kill you but to paralyze you and bring you to us."

"A Knight was killed by that creature!" said Lannon, wondering if reasoning with Vorden was even a remote possibility.

Vorden shrugged. "What of it, Lannon? Knights are going to die...a lot of them. We're at war, in case you forgot. And I warned you that when you came north, you would find that the Squire you knew at Dremlock was no more. I don't mind killing, now. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It makes me feel powerful."

Lannon was overwhelmed by disgust, but he hid his feelings. "I'm here to try to stop the killing, Vorden, to put an end to this war."

"You can't stop it," said Vorden, smiling. "If that's why you came here, you would have done better just to flee back to Dremlock. The Knights are on the way, Lannon. But they'll never enter Dorok's hand."

"Never," Timlin echoed, his hand on his bow. He looked more mature somehow, hardened and ready to kill.

"This has worked out perfectly," said Vorden. "Soon you will join us--the three former Squires together again, minus the foul Birlote Aldreya and Jerret the loser. Together we will rule all of Silverland forever."

"Do you want to live forever?" Timlin asked Lannon. "Now you can, with the power of Tharnin."

I'd rather die young
, Lannon wanted to say.

"You set this all in motion, Lannon," said Vorden. "Without you, Timlin and I would be unknown Squires at Dremlock. Instead, we're practically gods. You want to blame the Hand of Tharnin when you should blame yourself. If you think we're monsters, then it was
you
who spawned us."

Lannon cringed inwardly at Vorden's words, for they stung him deeply. He did blame himself for making friends at Dremlock and getting others involved in his dangerous and bizarre existence. He'd reached out selfishly because he was lonely and afraid--and this was the terrible result.

"Your eyes are haunted, my friend," said Vorden. "But rather than blame yourself, you should give yourself credit. We're not the monsters you believe us to be. On the contrary, we will bring peace to this land."

Lannon was weary of hearing the Blood Legion talk of peace, and he still felt detached from reality--wondering if it all was a nightmare. "So what happens now, Vorden? If I don't agree to join your cause, will you kill me?"

"I won't kill you," said Vorden, "because you
will
join my cause. From the moment I chose to wear the Hand of Tharnin, I knew it was your destiny to fight by my side for a new purpose. Make no mistake, you will join Timlin at my side. Can't you see how fate is at work here? Look at us--together again!"

"You did not choose the gauntlet," said Lannon. "It chose you--against your will. Don't you remember, Vorden? Your memory is fading!"

For a moment, Vorden's eyes looked distant and confused. Then he shook his head. "You speak nonsense, Lannon. I remember seizing the Hand of Tharnin and...and placing it on my arm. It serves me."

Lannon sighed. "Try to remember who you were, Vorden."

Vorden's eyes narrowed. "I do recall exactly who I was--a foolish Squire who fought for the wrong reasons. But we've talked enough."

"Then what happens now?" said Lannon.

"Now you can watch while I deal with this prisoner," said Vorden, motioning to the bound man. "He was caught stealing from another Soldier, and I've decided to execute him right here and now. You can watch, Lannon."

"Vorden, don't do it!" Lannon pleaded, panic surging through him. "You're not going to kill a helpless prisoner!"

"You don't yet understand, Lannon," said Vorden, his eyes smoldering. "I am in command, and my word is law. I hold the power over life and death." He grinned slyly. "In my
hand.
" He raised the gauntlet. "You can forget about the Divine Essence. I will show you how a god is supposed to behave!"

Vorden strode over to the bound prisoner, with Lannon and Timlin following. Vorden seized the man by the throat with the Hand of Tharnin. "When Soldiers break the rules, death is the only fitting punishment." The Soldier trembled, but his eyes burned with defiance.

"Master Vorden," said the Soldier who stood watching, "again, I beg you to reconsider! Talgad is a good man who simply drank too much ale and made a foolish mistake. He has always been fiercely loyal to the Legion. He has been a brother to me since we were young. Please, my lord!"

"Kill the rule breaker," said Timlin, grinning.

Vorden turned. "You beg me to spare his life, Mohar? Yet someone must be punished as an example for others. Will you take his place? If you agree to it, I will spare his life. But
you
will die."

The Soldier named Mohar nodded, his pace pale. "For my brother, I will do it. Yes, I will trade places with him so he may live."

"No, my friend!" Talgad groaned. "I'm the one who broke the rules. You shouldn't have to die over my actions."

"Mohar has been granted the choice," said Vorden. "And he has chosen death." Vorden turned and seized Mohar's throat.

"Wait!" said Lannon, the Eye of Divinity springing to life. He seized Vorden with his sorcery and yanked him away from Mohar.

Vorden turned toward Lannon, rage in his yellow eyes. He raised the Hand of Tharnin and the blue stones began to glow. Lannon's hold on Vorden was shattered. "Do not interfere with what must be done!"

"This is not the way to sway me to your cause," said Lannon. "You...you brought me here to join your Legion. Yet I'm not ready to see such sights. Just give me some time to adjust to this way of life, Vorden."

Vorden hesitated, then nodded. "Out of respect for you, Lannon, I will allow this wretch to live. Mohar, take your friend to the dungeon and have him flogged for his crime. That is all."

Timlin sneered. "That was pathetic, Vorden."

"I don't have time for any of this anyway," said Vorden, shrugging. "I'm about to make an excursion into a very dark place, Lannon. I would be honored if you would join me--so that you can witness Dremlock's doom. The time is right, but the beast must be given its orders. Soon the entire Divine Army will be a sea of broken bodies. And guess what? It won't cost me a single Soldier!"

***

It was nearing evening when the Divine Army drew close to the Blood Legion fortress. The going had been very slow, with the steep, snow-drifted terrain making it very difficult to continue pulling the wagons that contained the bulk of their supplies. Jerret was growing ever more nervous and impatient, fidgeting restlessly in the saddle. He knew Vannas and Aldreya felt the same.

"We shall ride right to the gates of Dorok's Hand," said Furlus Goblincrusher, who rode alongside the three Squires. "There, we will wait for them to make a move--be it battle or surrender. If they choose to fight, we will unleash the White Flamestone upon the gates and burn them down."

Jerret knew the Blood Legion would never surrender--not with Vorden and the Hand of Tharnin on their side. But Jerret had a plan to deal with Vorden, if he could get close enough to speak to him. He felt he was skilled enough to defeat Vorden in combat, as long as the Hand of Tharnin was kept out of the fight. It was a plan that could easily lead Jerret to his death, but he was determined to make Vorden pay for enslaving Jerret's mind--whatever the cost. The obsession with killing Vorden had grown to consume Jerret's life, and he felt that surely destiny must somehow bring the two Squires together in a duel to the death.

Jerret suspected that somewhere beneath the power of the demon that infested the Hand of Tharnin--and the monstrous will of the Deep Shadow--some of the old Vorden Flameblade still remained. But was there enough of the old Vorden left to compel him to accept a challenge from Jerret? Jerret realized that dreaming of revenge (especially against one of his former friends and fellow Squires) was not the way a warrior of Dremlock was supposed to conduct himself. He suspected that somehow Vorden had corrupted his heart with the Deep Shadow, fueling his hatred. Jerret's conscience warned him that he was on a dark path, but his desire for vengeance was too strong to be ignored. Time and again he imagined Vorden's blood-soaked body on the ground at his feet.

"This is what I was trained for," said Vannas, interrupting Jerret's thoughts. "To turn the mighty gates of Dorok's Hand into ash!"

"So that's why Dremlock decided to wage this assault on the fortress," said Jace. "The gates are no longer a deterrent. I should have guessed that. This will be the third time Dremlock, in its long history, has attempted to claim Dorok's Hand. The other two assaults resulted in disaster for the Divine Knights--with many slain. They never even entered the fortress."

"The wooden gates cannot easily be burned," said Furlus. "They are coated with a substance that resists fire. But the White Flamestone will not be stopped. Rest assured the gates will fall--and many Soldiers with it."

"Are you prepared to kill many men, young prince?" Trenton Shadowbane asked Vannas. "Dozens...maybe even hundreds? It will not be pleasant to witness--the cries of the wounded and dying. Yet you must stay strong."

"I am ready," said Vannas, though his eyes looked uncertain. "This is my purpose. This is what the Divine Essence chose me for. All those days and nights in seclusion, the endless lessons. I never thought I would actually end up here, ready to do my god's bidding and see the fruits of my labor."

"We'll see," said Trenton. "Our success may depend almost entirely on you, Squire. Bear that in mind!" With his broken arm and broken ribs still on the mend, the Investigator was slouched in the saddle, grimacing in pain now and then. He'd taken brutal damage from the Bear--to the point where even with his healing technique and the help of the White Knights he was still barely mobile. The constant riding and intense cold had also conspired to slow his recovery.

As they approached the gates--and the army of Legion Soldiers that was gathered in front of them--the Red Knights took the lead, their lances held ready. Next came Furlus and the Squires, surrounded by more Red and Brown Knights and wolves. The sorcerers and archers brought up the rear. Dremlock's army was larger than the one that awaited it, but the Legion Soldiers held a great advantage in positioning, having the higher ground--including the archers and catapults that lined the wooden platforms high above the snows.

 
Dorok's Hand was a shimmering wall of weapons and Soldiers ready to cast destruction down upon the Divine Army. Jerret gazed upward in awe, thinking that he would never get close to Vorden to take his revenge. In fact, he could only imagine dozens of arrows and boulders raining down until only dead bodies remained. For a moment, he thought they'd made a terrible mistake in ever coming here. The fortress just seemed too well defended.

Then Jerret glanced at Vannas, who held the pouch containing the White Flamestone, and hope returned. As long as the prince held that great gift of the Divine Essence, Jerret's dream of killing Vorden remained a possibility.

"Keep a firm grip on it, Prince Vannas," said Jerret. "They'll try to take it from you." He glanced up and saw Elder Hawks circling above--along with what looked like a Goblin Vulture. "And watch the skies!"

Vannas nodded. "It shall never leave my hand."

When the two armies were only a stone's throw away from each other, Furlus ordered a halt. He sent word through the ranks to beware of the terror-inspiring runes on the statue of Dorok. "Remember your training," he said, "and focus only on serving the Divine Essence."

 
Then the Grey Dwarf rode to the front of the ranks and waited, sitting fearlessly in the saddle with his arms at his sides. The archers on the platforms could have shot Furlus off his horse, but they made no move.

At last, a Legion Knight--a man as large as Jace--in dark armor and a horned helm rode forth to meet Furlus. His bushy black-and-grey streaked beard protruded from beneath his helm. He carried a huge battle axe in one hand while guiding the reins with the other. His horse was black and larger even than the Greywinds--some type of yellow-eyed Goblin Steed. He looked like death itself.

When the giant reached Furlus, he towered over the Grey Dwarf. Yet Furlus was imposing in his own right--a wall of muscle and stout armor that seemed as if it could never be breached. They conversed for a moment, gesturing occasionally toward both armies, and then the Knight rode back to the gates.

Word quickly spread through Dremlock's army that the Blood Legion was weary of fighting and was considering surrendering--but was still waiting for word from the Legion Masters. They'd asked to be granted until morning to make their decision. Furlus returned to the Divine Shield with a scowl on his face.

"I don't believe it," the Tower Master said. "I'm certain this is some kind of ploy to buy time while they prepare a defense or an attack. I almost think we should just launch our attack and end this quickly!"

"But what if they are sincere?" said Shennen. "Think of all the lives that would be spared. They know they cannot stop us--that we will tear down the gates and overrun Dorok's Hand. Maybe they truly are weary of fighting. Maybe the Hand of Tharnin is no longer a threat--for some reason we do not know."