Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin (31 page)

Vorden laughed. "Look behind you, Lannon."

Even as Vorden spoke, Lannon became aware of a terrible stench--like a mixture of wet earth, decayed flesh, and pure evil. A blast of foul breath hit him from behind. Lannon whirled around--to see a nightmare.

 
The beast was a winged worm, a Great Dragon of Tharnin, hovering in the fog next to the platform. It was at least sixty-feet long from its horned head to its spiked tail--looking like a giant serpent with rows of small wings that beat so swiftly they were barely visible. It hovered like a dragonfly, and Lannon knew in an instant that it was capable of immense speed in spite of its bulk. Its scales seemed like living entities, shifting about as if each one were aware of its surroundings. Hanging from the scales were tube-shaped extensions that, with a black, curved spike on the end of each, resembled stinging weapons of some sort. The Dragon's head was the most hideous (yet captivating) thing Lannon had ever looked upon--two large, bulbous purple eyes with a hypnotic depth of color shades and textures and a long, wrinkled snout full of oversized teeth. Aside from all that, the creature seemed half-blended with shadows that squirmed over its body--shadows that, along with the moving scales--made the Dragon's entire bulk writhe in a repulsive fashion.

Lannon simply stood and gazed into the endless depths of those purple eyes, waiting to be destroyed. The Eye of Divinity retreated back inside him, his power useless against the colossal might of the beast before him.

But then the Eye suddenly exploded to life, and Lannon again felt sick to his stomach. Something as hideous as the Dragon seemed to be clawing its way to the surface within him--something utterly terrifying. Glancing down, Lannon saw that a shadow seemed to be covering his body--a shadow that had a crimson hue like blood. He thought the Eye was having some strange reaction to the overwhelming presence of the Deep Shadow, but he had no idea what it was. He remembered Jace's vision--of Lannon covered in blood--and wondered if this was what he'd seen.

Suddenly, Lannon was overcome by rage. He turned his back on the Dragon, not caring if it devoured him. He was flooded with a righteous anger that dissolved his terror. "You betrayed me, Vorden!

"Of course I did," said Vorden, laughing. "And it was
so
easy to do. Don't think ill of me, Lannon. I brought you here for your own good."

Lannon could only shake his head. "How is this for my own good? You're full of lies and you don't even know it!"

"I will be returning to my fortress," said Vorden. He pointed beyond Lannon at the Dragon. "And my little friend here will follow me. Soon it will emerge from the gates of Dorok's Hand and begin its assault on Dremlock and the Divine Essence. Nothing will stop it. There is no force in existence that can destroy a Great Dragon of Tharnin. They have existed since the dawn of time. To be honest, this gauntlet was not created to control all of the great beasts, for that would be impossible. It was created specifically to control
this
Dragon, after decades of careful research and sorcery experiments. It was created to destroy Dremlock Kingdom!"

"I believed in you, Vorden," said Lannon. "Even as you are now, I still believed there was some of your old self left in there." He clenched his hands into fists, overwhelmed with bitterness. "Well, I don't believe it now!"

"You were a fool to come here," said Vorden. "The Hand of Tharnin holds complete dominance over my soul--yet I willingly embrace it. This device was banished by the Tharnin Lords. They fear its power and consider it unstable. It was on its way to be destroyed when it fell into the hands of the farmer Vellera. My master--Tenneth Bard--then opted to violate Tharnin law and attempt to use Vellera to assassinate you, Lannon. When that failed, and the gauntlet fell into my possession, my master decided to go all the way and summon the Dragon to destroy Dremlock. And that's where things stand."

Lannon stood in silence, glowering at Vorden. Whatever dark force was writhing inside of him seemed about to break free.

Vorden sneered at him. "Goodbye, Lannon." With that, he started toward the stairway. "By the way, I betrayed you even worse than you thought. Soon you will find only love for the Deep Shadow in your heart."

As Lannon watched, a figure stepped out from behind one of the statues--a figure cloaked in black, with a face of violet eyes and shifting shadows.

"Tenneth Bard," Lannon groaned, his anger instantly replaced by sheer dread.

Before the gates of Dorok's Hand, with a few stars beginning to burn in the evening sky, Timlin and Furlus sat facing each other on horseback. Jerret and Aldreya sat beside Furlus on their horses, holding torches. The Tower Master had requested they ride with him to speak with Timlin in the hope that they could help persuade Timlin to surrender. The Squires gazed up fearfully at the catapults and archers on the torch-lit platforms by the gates, knowing that death could strike from above in an instant. They didn't want to be there--such easy targets out in the open--but Furlus Goblincrusher was not to be refused.

Jerret needed only a brief glance at Timlin's cold eyes and hard face to be convinced Timlin would never surrender. Timlin seemed to harbor a new confidence and maturity to go along with his fantastic-looking white and blue armor. He seemed like a leader, and even though Timlin had aligned himself with evil, Jerret couldn't help but feel impressed and a bit overshadowed. Aldreya, however, looked saddened and was clearly
not
impressed by Timlin's aura of importance.

 
Jerret wondered where Vorden and Lannon were--and if Lannon was dead or had been enslaved by the Deep Shadow. He knew Aldreya was wondering the same thing. He couldn't imagine what horrible fate Lannon had come to beyond those huge gates, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know.

 
Jerret made eye contact with Timlin, and Timlin's lips parted in a slight smile--as if he were amused Jerret had made the journey.

"So you're a pawn of Tharnin now," said Furlus. "Congratulations, Timlin. How does it feel to know you threw away an honorable career at Dremlock for a life of slavery and evil? Such a waste of a talented Squire."

"It feels rather good," said Timlin, smiling. "I never fit in at Dremlock and always had to pretend to be something I wasn't. Now I'm free to be who I truly am--with all of my faults. No one questions me here." He chuckled. "They wouldn't dare, or they might catch an arrow through the eye."

"We want you to surrender, Timlin," said Aldreya. "You don't have to do this. Dremlock doesn't want a war. If you surrender, you can begin to make a new life for yourself--away from all of this evil."

"That's right," Jerret mumbled. "We don't want a war." Actually, Jerret
did
want a war. He wanted to test out his sword skills on Goblins or Legion Soldiers--whoever got in his way. And above all he wanted to test his skills on Vorden. He was certain the Deep Shadow was in his heart--but only traces of it, filling him with a desire for combat and revenge. It had turned Jerret a bit savage. He knew it, yet he told no one and did nothing to change it. He liked who he'd become--with his newfound motivations, skill, and sense of destiny.

"Well, I
do
want a war," said Timlin. He grinned, his eyes showing an evil glitter in the torchlight. "And what I want, my men had better want. They're not allowed to think for themselves."

Furlus sneered. "So you're free to be a bully here--something you could never be at Dremlock. But you can't even begin to imagine what you've given up and the depths to which you've fallen. When you finally do realize it, it will come as a great shock to you. I pity you, Timlin."

Timlin shrugged. "Pity? Who cares? And you're wrong. I already suffered greatly thinking of what I lost by betraying Dremlock. It gnawed at me constantly. However, now I just don't care. I have power, and power cures every ill. Whenever something troubles me now, I just take it out on someone else."

Furlus nodded. "As I said, you're a bully."

"No," said Timlin, "what I am is the Blue Knight of the Blood Legion--second in command to the Black Knight. Are you second in command, Furlus? No, you're third on the list. A
distant
third, in fact, if you consider reputation. You'll never be second in command as long as Taris is alive."

"Enough of this silly talk," said Furlus. "You speak as if this is all some childish game. But the reality is that we are facing war, and many lives are at stake. Now are you going to surrender, or shall we get on with storming the gates? And you must know by now that those gates
will
come down, and when they do, and the Divine Knights flood Dorok's Hand, death will come quickly and decisively. Nothing will stop this army--not Vorden and his Hand of Tharnin, not even Lannon if you've done something to twist his mind."

Timlin hesitated, glancing back at his army, then said, "Vorden doesn't want bloodshed, for some reason that I can't fathom. He wants peace. The rest of the High Council agrees with him--probably because they're afraid not to. Personally, I would prefer we go to war, but my master's word is law. Therefore, I will agree to surrender Dorok's Hand--with some conditions, of course. Will you agree to hear my conditions? If not, then we might as well start the battle right now."

"I will hear the conditions," said Furlus.

"The Blood Legion is very proud," Timlin went on. "We do not take surrender lightly. The Soldiers would prefer not to have to throw down their arms in front of Dremlock's army. Rather, we wish to retreat into the keep, where we will remove our weapons and armor in private. Then we will emerge from the gates unarmed and surrender. You will have possession of Dorok's Hand."

"And you'll do it as soon as we're finished with this discussion?" said Furlus, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I'm tired of waiting. The gates will be opened and the Soldiers will retreat prior to surrendering? And what if it's a trick?"

"What sort of trick would it be?" said Timlin. "To retreat inside and leave the gates open and unguarded? That would be folly."

Furlus sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then he said, "What other conditions are there?"

"That the Legion Masters be granted their freedom," said Timlin.

"I refuse that condition," said Furlus, scowling. "The Legion Masters will return to Dremlock to face trial for their crimes."

"Then I simply ask for leniency on us," said Timlin, "due to the fact that we willingly agree to surrender with no bloodshed. Is that fair?"

Furlus considered it, then nodded. "I suppose that's a fair request. But once the gates are open, your Soldiers will have one hour to remove their weapons and armor and prepare for surrender. After that, my army will enter the fortress. If it turns out this is some form of deception, it will go very badly for you."

"You've made a wise choice, Timlin," said Aldreya, smiling. "This decision will preserve many lives."

Jerret said nothing, not liking this turn of events at all.

"Then go now!" Furlus ordered. "You have one hour."

With a nod--and a malicious grin directed at Jerret--Timlin wheeled his horse about and galloped back to his Soldiers. As Dremlock's army sat watching, the Legion Soldiers began to pull the gates open--a sea of torches parting as men tugged on the huge ropes.

"I can hardly believe it," said Furlus. "They actually plan to surrender. This is not typical of the Blood Legion at all."

"It must be a trap," said Jerret. "Maybe we should attack."

"It's not Dremlock's way, Squire," said Furlus, shrugging. "We are bound by the Sacred Laws to allow them a chance to surrender."

Yet when the gates were barely open, they suddenly shuddered and burst apart as a massive bulk slammed through them. The gates were struck with such force from within the keep that they sent men tumbling through the snow--some severely wounded--as they were shoved open. For a moment, revealed by torchlight, a huge, horned head and scaly body was visible, framed in the tunnel mouth.

Cries of shock and dismay arose from both Dremlock's army and the Blood Legion, as the Dragon soared out into open air. It rose up into the sky for a moment, its long, serpent-like body outlined against the stars, and then it descended on the men by the gates. The Dragon's stingers ripped into the Soldiers and several of them went limp--killed instantly by deadly poison. The beast hovered for a moment, the corpses still hanging from the stingers below its body.

Then the Legion Soldiers started to flee through the gates into the keep. Those on the platforms had to climb down rope ladders and risk the Dragon's wrath. Meanwhile, Goblins poured from the smaller cave mouths along the mountain wall, charging toward the Divine Knights.

Furlus was finally able to gather his wits, and he howled at the Red Knights, "Bring Vannas to me and surround us. Throw your lances at the Dragon!" His eyes blazing, he raised his huge battle axe.

Aldreya's stone dagger burst into flames, and Jerret drew his sword. The two Squires exchanged a horrified glance.

A war, unlike anything they'd imagined, had begun.

***

Tenneth Bard stood before Lannon in silence, as if waiting for the Squire to make the first move. The ancient sorcerer seemed unfathomable to Lannon, with his face and body that were half blended with shifting shadows. Somehow Lannon had known all along they would meet again. But Lannon was in no mood to deal with Tenneth Bard. Vorden's betrayal of his trust--as predictable as it should have been--still smoldered within Lannon, and when the shock of seeing Tenneth Bard wore off, his anger returned. The strange force within him was so insistent on breaking free that Lannon felt like he might explode.

"Glad you could make it," Tenneth Bard said, in a low, inhuman voice. "I wasn't sure I would ever get this amazing opportunity. You see, in this land, my power is much greater than it is in your realm. Here, I can force you to submit to the will of Tharnin quite easily."

"I'll never serve you!" Lannon said, his rage suddenly directed at Tenneth Bard. "And furthermore, something is wrong with me. You better stay away. I feel like I'm going to explode."

Tenneth Bard seemed to contemplate Lannon's words. Then he said, "You're terrified of this realm. I can see your body tremble. And a shadow like blood hangs over you--your fear revealed in physical form. Emotions can sometimes be seen here by the naked eye. You cannot hide your terror, young Squire of Dremlock. You could make it easy on yourself and just give in. You'll come to love this realm and feel restored by it. I'm giving you a chance to submit willingly, but if you refuse, I'll force you to surrender."

Lannon realized Tenneth Bard had no clue what Lannon was experiencing. The sorcerer seemed so certain of himself, his ego and arrogance having grown to monstrous proportions over the centuries he'd been alive. "It isn't fear. Something else is going on--something that could kill both of us!"

Tenneth Bard laughed. "You are no threat to me, Lannon Sunshield. You never were. You think I haven't dealt with your kind before? Some of the Dark Watchmen fell victim to me and became my servants--and they were older and more experienced than you. You're just a lad who can't even begin to understand his power. You arrived at Dremlock as its savior, but it was far too late in the game. You are witnessing the fall of the Divine Knights. And in spite of my hatred for Dremlock and their grotesque god, it is a sad passing for a kingdom that has endured so long. Having lived for well over a thousand years, I have a deep sense of history, Lannon. I hate to see ancient traditions come to an end. Yet Dremlock stands in the way of the expansion of Tharnin and simply must be destroyed."

"You only care about Tharnin's expansion," said Lannon, "because you're a puppet. Why else would you care?"

"Such a naive lad," mused Tenneth Bard. "You don't understand the ways of the Deep Shadow. My relationship with Tharnin is mutually beneficial. I serve it, and in return I receive power beyond your comprehension."

"Then why did you break Tharnin law?" said Lannon. "You weren't supposed to use the gauntlet or summon the Dragon."

"I didn't use the gauntlet," said Tenneth Bard, "
or
summon the Dragon. Vorden did those things by his own choice. It was a stroke of good fortune that the Hand of Tharnin ended up in possession of someone like Vorden. The gauntlet is perfectly suited to his personality and immense talent. You should be proud of what your friend has become and what he has achieved."

"I don't have time for pointless discussion," said Lannon, overwhelmed with disgust at Tenneth Bard's words. "I need to help the Knights deal with Vorden and his Dragon. I strongly suggest you don't try to stop me. Not this time." Lannon started toward the stairs

With a hiss, Tenneth Bard lunged forward and seized Lannon's shoulders. Lannon was instantly paralyzed as dark sorcery flooded into him. "It is time for you to serve me!" said the sorcerer. "The only puppet will be you!"

The dark force inside Lannon began to writhe about frantically, filling him with panic. The pressure inside him became unbearable. "Let go of me!" he yelled. "Or we're both going to die!"

But Tenneth Bard ignored Lannon and continued to flood him with dark sorcery. The pressure turned to pain inside Lannon, as if his insides were being torn apart, and at last the dark force congealed into something recognizable--a dense wave of energy fueled by the Eye of Divinity. The pain and pressure vanished and Lannon found himself in complete control of the wave.

With a cry of triumph, Lannon unleashed the energy into Tenneth Bard, ripping the sorcerer away from him. For a moment, Tenneth Bard was suspended in the air, his violet eyes wide with shock as the energy hammered into him. And then he was flung from the platform and off into the mist.

Lannon fell to his knees, the breath rushing out of him. The energy wave was gone, leaving him feeling empty and drained. He now had a pounding headache and was dizzy. But Tenneth Bard was gone--struck with a force so terrible it might have finally sent him to his doom.

Lannon rose and headed down the stairs that wound around the pillar. He wanted to hurry, but the perils of the stairway wouldn't allow it. Everything seemed to have a dream-like quality in his mind--Vorden tricking him, the sudden appearance of the Dragon, the encounter with Tenneth Bard--and most of all, that astonishing wave of energy that had burst forth from within him. Could that have been the mysterious power called Dark Wave that Taris had told Lannon about when the Squire was first on his way to Dremlock?
"What does the Eye of Divinity do?" Lannon had asked. And Taris had replied: "The answer to that question is shrouded in mystery. As far as I know, it works in three stages--Sight, Body, and something called Dark Wave. Sight allows you to gain knowledge of things--even secret or guarded knowledge. Body creates physical changes upon a person and their surroundings, which can vary greatly depending upon the user. Dark Wave, however, is a mysterious force that few have ever gained use of. Little is written about it in the records of Dremlock Kingdom."