Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows (11 page)

"Now
what?" Jerret muttered.

They
could hear the Knights banging on the slab from the other side, but moments
later, cries and other sounds of battle arose. The sounds moved away from them
and then faded out, muffled by a maze of stone.

"They
left us!" said Aldreya.

"Sounds
like they're busy right now," said Lothrin, shrugging. "Looks like
we'll have to fend for ourselves."

"Stand
aside," said Vannas, holding out the White Flamestone.

"That
barrier is made of Glaetherin," Lannon warned.

"I
don't care what it's made of," Vannas snarled, the Flamestone becoming
radiant in his hands. "I'm blasting through it!"

The
Squires hurried away from the prince. Vannas hurled pale fire into the slab,
and a blinding flash erupted. The prince cried out and whirled around, his eyes
tightly closed. He shoved the Flamestone back into its pouch. "That didn't
work very well," he said, groaning. "Nearly blinded me."

The
Glaetherin slab was unharmed.

"Yes,
enough of that," said Saranna. She sat down on the edge of the pit.
"Well, it looks like the Dwarves wanted intruders to be forced into the
pit. There must have been some unpleasant surprise waiting down there--though
if it was anything alive I'd guess it no longer exists, considering how old
these ruins are."

Saranna
sighed. "What am I even doing here? Working for Dremlock is a fine way to
get killed. Or lose an arm." She laughed. "Of course, the pay is
good, so I suppose I have no right to complain."

Aldreya
glanced toward the severed arm, looking dismayed. "Poor Uncle Jace. I hope
that wasn't his
good
arm."

"Maybe
Jace can grow a new one," said Jerret, his expression serious. "I
wouldn't be surprised if he did, considering how he survived that fall through
the ice. Who knows what a sorcerer like that is capable of?"

 
Aldreya nodded. "Still, we better return
the arm to him." She carefully wrapped it in cloth and put it in her pack.
She sighed. "Uncle Jace uses his hands like weapons, so losing an arm
could be especially devastating for him. Hopefully, we won't be trapped here so
long that the arm will be rendered useless and the Healers can't reattach
it."

"They
reattached Vald Sparklesword's leg," said Jerret, "after the leg had
been carried off by Goblin Wolves and was missing for almost a day. The Wolves
had already feasted well and were saving it for later, so it only had a few
teeth marks in it. Vald doesn't even have a limp to show for it."

Saranna
shook her head in amazement. "Being a servant of Dremlock certainly has
its privileges. When a Ranger loses a limb, it's replaced by a wooden one or,
more often, not replaced at all. Many Rangers have been forced into early
retirement after losing limbs to Goblins or infection while keeping the roads
open for the Divine Knights to use."

The
Squires looked uncomfortable but didn't reply.

"I
could try blasting through the stone walls," said Vannas.

"Not
a good idea," said Saranna. "You could bring a bunch of rubble down
on top of us. Just hold off on the blasting, okay?"

Vannas
nodded, but looked displeased.

"Maybe
we should enter the pit," said Jerret. "Might be a way out."

"No,
we should wait for a bit," said Lannon. "The Knights will return for
us in time and find a way to remove the slab or tunnel around it--or something.
Since the pit is an obvious trap, we should avoid it."

"I
agree," said Vannas. "We will wait."

Jerret
groaned. "We're stuck here while a battle is going on? I don't like
it!"

"Take
a rest, Jerret," said Lannon. "And be patient."

Jerret
ignored him and paced about.

Saranna
sighed and slapped her thigh. "So what shall we talk about?"

No
one answered.

"Not
a talkative bunch, I see," the Ranger mused. "So how do you like
being Squires at Dremlock? Is it everything you'd hoped it would be? Come on
now, we might as well get to know each other a bit. Aldreya?"

"Much
more exciting," said Aldreya. "And dangerous. I had anticipated
spending most of my time training and studying, instead of being thrown right
into the action. But this is why I went to Dremlock--to battle Tharnin."

Saranna
seemed to sense something that Aldreya had kept to herself. "But you don't
seem overly happy with it. I see doubt in your eyes."

Aldreya
shrugged and looked away. "As I said, it's not what I expected. And I miss
Borenthia all the time."

"I
can understand that," said Saranna. "I had a home once too, before I
decided to make my living wandering Silverland."

"I
love being a Squire," said Jerret. "It's far better than I had
imagined. Of course, being part of the Divine Shield has added to the
excitement. I get more battle opportunities protecting Lannon and the
prince."

Saranna
gazed at him with curiosity. "What is it about combat that you love,
Jerret? I try to avoid it myself lately."

"As
do I," said Lannon, admiring Saranna's way of thinking (and her beauty). He
seldom took his eyes off the Ranger when she was around. Her clothes were
dirty, her auburn hair pulled back in a simple ponytail, but her green eyes
were captivating. A hard life had not diminished her natural beauty.

"Battle
fires up my blood," said Jerret, as he paced about. "It makes me
feel..." He shrugged. "I don't know. I just enjoy it."

"I
enjoy advancing in my skills," said Lothrin, "but battle brings me no
pleasure. I really don't think it's the way of a Divine Knight to relish
bloodshed. A Divine Knight is one who fights for peace--and fights only when
necessary. The Sacred Laws teach us that violence is a tool best used carefully
and selectively, as a last resort. Love of bloodshed can lead to a dark
path."

"I
wholeheartedly agree," said Lannon. "Well said."

"I
know all that," said Jerret, with a dismissive wave, "but I can't
help myself. All I ever think about is proving myself in battle. It's just the
way I am."

"You're
like a Grey Dwarf, Jerret," said Lothrin, as he sat next to Saranna and chewed
some jerky. "You're all about combat and glory. You're definitely more Red
Squire than Blue, and I sense that will never change."

Jerret
nodded, smiling. "I suppose I am like an Olrog. Kind of like Furlus
Goblincrusher, maybe. I'll take that as a compliment."

"If
you must," said Lothrin. "But I'm glad your way of life is not
mine."

"Why?"
said Jerret, a look of contempt and amusement on his face. "Am I missing
out on the beauty of life and such?"

"Something
like that," said Lothrin.

Saranna
smiled at Lothrin and held his gaze for a moment. Lothrin was the oldest of the
Squires, but still a few years younger than Saranna. "I like your
attitude," she said. "But there is something else about you that
interests me, though I'm not sure what it is. You seem familiar somehow."

"I
too am a Ranger," he said. "Or I
was
, prior to coming to
Dremlock. I haven't lived as you've lived, though. I was a Ranger mainly for
the enjoyment of it, as I certainly didn't need the money."

"Of
course not," said Saranna. "You're a member of the Birlote Royal
Family. You must have lived a life of wealth and power."

Lothrin
nodded. "I had access to such a lifestyle--though I spent most of my time
away from others, wandering the forest and the lands beyond. I'm somewhat of a
loner, I suppose. So a Ranger's way of life was easy for me to adopt. I even
spent time killing Goblins for pay, protecting some of the farms in Silverland.
Finally I decided to try my luck at Dremlock, and being a Birlote from the
Elder Family, the Knights were happy to recruit me. So that's my story."

"A
Goblin hunter, huh?" said Jerret. "No wonder you're so good with that
bow, with all the trouble with Vultures. How many Goblins did you slay?"

Lothrin
shrugged. "A few dozen."

Jerret's
eyes widened. "That many? Quite impressive."

"It's
a busy job protecting farms," said Lothrin.

"I
must admit," said Saranna, "that I hate Goblins with all my
heart." Her eyes were distant, full of painful memories. "I started
my war with them in the stinking Bloodlands at the age of fifteen, and killing
them was all I knew for years. In fact, I used to measure a day's worth by how
many I'd slain. I lost quite a few good friends in battle with them, which is
why I despise them so much."

"Understandable,"
said Aldreya. "They are spiteful creatures born of evil. The more that
perish, the better. I was taught from birth to hate Goblins, and I was sent to
Dremlock to make war on them."

"I'm
not fond of killing anything," said Lannon. "Even Goblins, as evil as
they are."

Jerret
chuckled. "You speared that Wolf quick enough, my friend. That was an
incredible move, by the way."

"I
never said I
wouldn't
kill them," Lannon pointed out. "As a
Knight in training, it's my duty to kill Goblins. I simply said I don't enjoy
it."

"You're
all talk, Lannon," said Jerret. "You don't fool me. You say you don't
enjoy combat, but you sure do it well enough. That spear move was something
only a real warrior would do, with a love for battle."

"You're
wrong about me, Jerret," said Lannon. He'd felt no satisfaction in
skewering the Wolf. It had simply been a duty to him. The Eye of Divinity, and
his training as a Blue Squire, made him deadly in combat, but he cared nothing
for glory or praise. The things Jerret held in such high regard seemed empty to
Lannon. Lannon was more concerned with the fate of Dremlock and Silverland. On
the other hand, Jerret lacked the unique gifts of Lannon and Vannas and
probably felt pressured to measure up to his friends.

But
Jerret wasn't listening to Lannon. His gaze was focused on the pit. "I'm
going to see what's down there. Who's with me?"

"It
would be foolish to enter that pit," said Aldreya. "We should just
wait for the Knights to return and free us."

Jerret
shone a torch into the hole. "Nope, I'm going in. There might be prisoners
down there. We came here to rescue them, right?"

Lannon
sighed in frustration. "You're just hoping to encounter Goblins."

"Either
way," said Jerret, "I intend to carry out my duties. And did you even
search the pit to see if the villagers went that way?"

"I
tried," said Lannon, "but I encountered too much evil sorcery. It
makes it hard for me to see other details."

Jerret
nodded. "Then you can't rule out the possibility that some of the
villagers are down there--perhaps injured or starving."

"I
guess we'll go scout around down there," said Lannon. He didn't want
Jerret going into the pit alone, and there was a chance it could lead to a way
out.

"I
don't like the aura of that pit," said Aldreya.

"Nor
do I," said Lothrin.

"I'm
ready for whatever is down there," said Prince Vannas.

"An
obvious trap," Saranna reminded them.

"Why
should we worry?" said Jerret. "We have the Eye of Divinity and the
White Flamestone." With that, he started down the iron ladder.

Lannon
climbed down after him, scanning the pit. The others followed, except for
Darius, who remained in the tunnel above. Lannon could sense no traps in the
pit or any sorcery that might be concealing traps, but the dark magic below was
immensely powerful. The sorcery was ancient and dormant, not likely to be a
threat unless provoked. As Lannon climbed down, he could also now sense traces
of humans and Goblins having passed that way.

At
the bottom was a square chamber with a murky pool at the center. The pool was
encircled by a long serpent statue, greenish with mold and with fins like a
fish. The dark sorcery was radiating from the water--from the corpse of some
great beast that lay below the surface. The beast was long dead, but the magic
that infested it was still potent. The beast had suffered an endless hunger, an
illusion that both sustained and tormented it. It had needed constant
motivation to justify its bleak existence and keep it from wandering into the
eternal fog of Tharnin. Each devouring of a victim had been unique--something
to relish and fuel the burning desire for the next feast. But when its Olrog
masters had left the underground city, and the centuries had passed with no new
victims, the beast had slowly starved to death--chained by its illusion until
the bitter end. But the presence of its hunger remained, a yawning mouth
beneath the pool still festering with dark sorcery and still waiting to be fed,
an abomination leftover from an age when the Grey Dwarves were slaves of the
Deep Shadow.

As
they gathered at the pool's edge, Jerret reached out with his sword to poke the
murky water, but Lannon seized his wrist.

"Don't
disturb it."