Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows (29 page)

Jace seemed to ponder her statement for a moment. His
black, curly hair was sticking up, as if he'd just awakened, and he looked
tired. He yawned.

"What do you mean?" she asked again.

He lit his pipe. "Never smoke a pipe, Squires,"
he said, licking his lips. "It's nasty and unpleasant and will contaminate
you."

"Then why do you do it?" said Jerret.

Jace shrugged. "Never follow my example, if you have
any sense."

"Well?" said Aldreya.

Jace gazed down at her. "As I said, never do what I
do. I'm a poor role model--too self centered and such. Be like Taris or Shennen.
Rigid fellows, true, but very wise and precise. As for myself, I'm sloppy and
given to strange fits." He blew a wobbly smoke ring. With a disgusted
bellow, he batted it into ruin. "See what I mean?"

"I don't care about that stuff," said Aldreya.
"Tell me about the Trial of Shades!"

"Taris will tell you all about it," said Jace.

"I would rather know about it now," said Aldreya.

"It's a dangerous business," said Jace, in a low,
ominous voice. He pressed his face close to hers, until his long nose nearly
touched her own. "You could lose your mind, my dear, for a time. But even
worse, if you fail you will be drained of your ability to summon sorcery
forever. You either pass the test, or you fail completely. It's a very harsh
trial, but it is an honored Birlote ritual. If you want to be Taris'
apprentice, you'll have to risk everything."

"I'm sure Aldreya will pass it easily," said
Galvia. She sat down on the other side of Jace and smiled up at him.
"Don't you agree, Uncle Jace?"

Jace glanced at her with one eyebrow raised. Then he said,
"Who knows?"

Aldreya felt a bit of irritation toward Galvia for her use
of the term
Uncle Jace.
That was Aldreya's term for him and Galvia had
stolen it. She liked Galvia, but she found herself wishing the Dwarf would sit somewhere
else.

Jerret rolled his eyes. "When are people going to
start calling me
Uncle Jerret
? Why don't I get any respect like
that?"

"You're too young," said Galvia, winking at
Jerret. "Jace is two-hundred years old, remember? But I do think of you as
a little brother."

"A
little
brother?" said Jerret, frowning.
"I believe I'm a year older than you."

Galvia chuckled. "But I'm stronger."

Jerret had no reply for that.

Jace patted Galvia on the back. "Glad to see you're
looking better, lass. You've got a nice healthy glow to you. I take it you have
been meditating on your wounds?"

Galvia nodded. "Day and night."

"Good," Jace mumbled. "Very good. We'll need
everyone healthy in our battle with the sprawling monstrosity known as
Bellis."

"Can we really prevail?" said Jerret, looking
skeptical. "Or are we just riding to our deaths? I think we deserve to
know the truth."

"Taris plans on us winning, obviously," said
Jace. "If he thought we were going to lose, he wouldn't be sending the
White Flamestone into battle. Instead, he would send it to Dremlock. But Taris
is only human, and his confidence is no guarantee of victory. We'll be riding
against the most powerful army on Gallamerth. Most of Bellis' Knights do not
possess sorcery like Dremlock's Knights--but they do possess advanced weapons
along with outstanding combat skills and strategy. And their siege engines are
rather amazing. Bellis knows how to win wars, my young friends. It's what they
do best."

"So you think we're going to lose?" said Vannas,
with a smirk.

"I didn't say that, oh prince," said Jace. He
puffed at his pipe and then sighed. "But in all honesty, I was insinuating
it. It will be a tough battle. We must use the White Flamestone wisely to have
any chance."

"You could always skip the battle," said Lothrin.
"You're not a Knight, Jace. You're here because of your knowledge, not
your fighting skills."

Jace scratched his head. "I've considered that.
However, I don't want to see this entire continent enslaved by Bellis--as that
could open the way for the Deep Shadow. Yes, that little problem again."
He gave a wry smile. "Thus, I am obligated to fight."

The reality of the situation weighed heavily upon Aldreya.
If Dremlock lost the war with Bellis, the Deep Shadow might prevail at last.
The world could be stripped of its independence and made an extension of
Tharnin. Most plant and animal life would be corrupted into something akin to
the Bloodlands. People would be forced to live under brutal Tharnin law. This
was a fight for the survival of purity and freedom.

Jace glanced at her and nodded, as if reading her thoughts.
"Yes, this is a rather important battle. That's why I'm here. I didn't
join forces with Dremlock because I needed the money, though the pay is
certainly welcome. We're facing an enormous threat--possibly equal to that
faced by Olzet Ka, the great Birlote King, when the Barloak Demons were trying
to destroy or subvert all life on Gallamerth. The only difference is that
Bellis is unpredictable and likely has a shaky alliance with Tharnin. Still,
the threat is dire."

"I am a descendant of Olzet Ka," said Prince
Vannas, looking thoughtful. "According to the ancient legend, he used a
Flamestone to defeat Tharnin."

"Yes," said Jace. "The
Crimson
Flamestone--the Blood of the White Guardian. In his hands, it was the ultimate
weapon. The armies of the Deep Shadow could not withstand the Crimson Fire, and
the Barloak Demons were driven back into Tharnin. We don't possess power on
that scale, but the White Flamestone is nothing to sneer at."

"Where is the Crimson Flamestone these days?"
asked Galvia.

"Didn't you pay attention during history lessons in
the Temple, Galvia?" said Vannas. "We've all heard the story more
than once."

Galvia shrugged. "My mind always wandered."

"I seldom paid attention either," said Jerret,
with a laugh. "I hate history lessons. Takes valuable time away from
training."

"The Crimson Flamestone rests far to the north,"
said Jace. "After Olzet Ka won the war, he placed the gem on a bed of
straw and no one has since been able to remove it. The Flamestone is guarded by
an evil sorcerer known as Carth Lang, the oldest man alive according to some
accounts. He endlessly seeks to possess its power, but cannot remove it from
the straw. It is rumored that only a certain descendent of Olzet Ka, bearing a
divine birthmark, has the power to pluck the Crimson Flamestone from its
resting place."

Lothrin smiled. "Just a silly legend? Or a prophecy
waiting to be fulfilled?" He tapped his cheek. "I have a strange
birthmark."

Jace gave him a piercing stare. "Yes, you have a
mark--but your mark is shaped like a leaf that does not burn. So close...yet
not the same."

Lothrin touched his birthmark. "It is supposed to be a
leaf that burns?"

Jace nodded and sighed. "You're almost
the one
,
Lothrin. Almost. But the mark you bear is slightly different. I believe the
time is nearing when a descendant of Olzet Ka who possesses the sorcery of old
will be revealed--someone who can lift the Crimson Flamestone from its bed of
straw and use it against the Deep Shadow."

"So who is the one?" asked Lothrin. "Someone
from Borenthia? From the Royal Family?"

 
Jace shrugged.
"Perhaps he or she is not born yet."

"Perhaps he or she will
never
be born,"
said Vannas, with a dismissive wave. "The Crimson Flamestone may be lost
forever in its resting place. But we have a powerful stone in our possession
and someone chosen by the Divine Essence to use it. Why worry about ancient
legends when we have something real on our side?"

"Because we must keep all our options open," said
Jace. "But rest assured, my good prince, that your importance to Dremlock
is not underestimated. The White Flamestone offers hope in the face of
overwhelming odds."

"And the Eye of Divinity?" asked Vannas.

Jace frowned. "Too unpredictable to rely on."

"Will Lannon succumb like the Dark Watchmen did?"
asked Jerret. "Be honest, Jace. As his friends, we deserve to know what
you think."

Jace glared at him. "When am I not honest,
Dragonsbane? I don't shy away from giving my opinion, sometimes to my
chagrin."

"So what is your opinion?" asked Aldreya,
dreading the answer.

"I believe Lannon is in great peril," said Jace.
"The Dark Watchmen were strong and wise and seemingly incorruptible. Yet
look what became of them. Can Lannon overcome the snares that doomed his predecessors?
I have my doubts."

"Then why did Dremlock recruit Lannon?" asked
Vannas, "knowing what could result? It seems very foolish."

 
"Desperation,
of course," Jace replied. "It was a grave risk, considering the Dark
Watchmen almost brought down Dremlock Kingdom. The decision to recruit Lannon
was not an easy one to make, but the Divine Essence was behind it and the
Knights had to obey."

"Our god appears to be growing
very
desperate," said Lothrin. "Aside from surrendering a piece of itself
to its followers, it also chose to recruit another potential Dark Watchman--in
spite of what happened so long ago."

Aldreya prayed Lannon would be shielded from the darkness,
that the Divine Light would protect him as he ventured into Old Hammer Hall.
Lannon had a noble spirit, and it angered her to think of the Deep Shadow
wanting to corrupt him as it had Vorden and Timlin. Because of the Eye, Tharnin
wanted Lannon above all others.

"Has the Divine Essence actually grown
desperate?" asked Galvia.

"I believe so," said Jace. "And it is
because of Bellis--and perhaps Tenneth Bard, who may be behind all of this.
Yes, there are definite signs of desperation, and make no mistake--the Divine
Essence is uncertain of Dremlock's survival."

Aldreya wanted to pay Taris a visit and tell him she would
partake in the Trial of Shades. It was a simple choice. According to Jace, if
she failed the test then her ability to function as a sorcerer would be
impaired. She would have nothing left at Dremlock and would return to
Borenthia. And if she passed the test, Taris would extend his vast knowledge to
her and she would be better equipped to fight the Deep Shadow. But it was too
late to visit Taris, and they were scheduled to abandon Dorok's Hand in the
early morning.

The Trial of Shades would have to wait.

Chapter 19:
 
Old Hammer Hall

As Lannon, Aldrek Windspear, and the Blue Knights drew
close to Old Hammer Hall, their progress slowed. They left the horses and their
Elder Hawk concealed amidst some boulders and proceeded on foot along the mountain
path. Thanks to the expert skills of the Blue Knights--and some help from the
Eye of Divinity--they were able to avoid being seen by spies along the trail.
The spies were mainly watching for a larger invasion force, and that worked to
the group's advantage.

Old Hammer Hall was at a higher elevation than Dorok's
Hand, and Lannon found himself a bit short on breath as he trudged through the
snow. They used boulders, bushes, and pines for concealment and hurried through
the open spaces. Soon they could see the fortress in the moonlight--a huge
stone drawbridge flanked by two guard towers carved from the mountain rock,
along with some wooden stables near the towers.

"There will be Elder Hawks circling above," said
Shennen. "Too high up even for Aldrek's power to reach. If they see us,
they will screech out a warning and our mission will be ruined. We must move
swiftly to the fortress gate and hide in one of the guard towers until the
drawbridge opens. Then we will enter the keep."

"If we're spotted," said Lannon, "what
should we do?"

"Flee," said Shennen, "for our mission will
be a failure. But we will only be in the open for a few moments, so it's
unlikely the Hawks will see us. Now is the time to become invisible. Prepare
yourselves!"

The group broke into a run--shadows racing across the
moonlit snow. Fortunately there were many tracks in the snow leading to the
keep, so their footprints didn't stand out. The immense power of Aldrek
Windspear kept the guards blinded to their presence, and no cries or warning
horns sounded.

Moments later, the grey stone tower loomed over them and
they entered into a storage room full of crates and barrels. They ducked down,
then began the long wait for the guards to change shifts. They didn't speak.

At last the drawbridge was lowered, as new guards replaced
the old. Lannon and the Blue Knights waited until the new guards had climbed
the tower stairs, and then they rushed out into the moonlight--just as the
exiting guards were crossing the drawbridge. The move had to be perfectly
timed, and the group had to be invisible to potential observers from three
places. And if an Elder Hawk had happened along at that moment, they would have
been spotted. However, no Hawk appeared and no guards seemed to notice them. As
much as it astounded Lannon, the invisibility plan worked and allowed them to
slip unseen into the keep.

Clearly, the secret of invisibility was immensely powerful.
Lannon was not surprised that only a few elite sorcerers and Blue Knights could
manage it. If he could master the skill, it would elevate him to a new level of
power. The ability to walk unseen by his foes held enormous potential.

Once inside, they found themselves in a large, torch-lit
cavern with four thick pillars on either side. They hid behind the pillars,
waiting for the Soldiers to exit the hall. Meanwhile, the drawbridge closed
with a grinding of chains, leaving them trapped inside Old Hammer Hall. The
entrance cavern was watched by ten guards who were playing dice games at tables
and two Ogres who'd been turning a crank to raise the drawbridge. The guards
glanced up and exchanged some words and laughter with the Soldiers, then went
back to playing dice.

Old Hammer Hall was a monument to Olrog Fire, with the
symbol of crossed torch and hammer found throughout the keep. A statue of the
Fire God, Benezeta, the Lord of the Forge, stood in the middle of the hall.
Benezeta was a Gnome, or a Dark Dwarf--a master of weaponsmithing from an
ancient race. His beard was like a twisted root, his nose long and crooked, and
his beady eyes were filled with cunning and malice. His spiked war hammer was
raised high, as if ready to smash Lannon and the other intruders should they
get too close. Crimson torches burned on either side of the statue, flickering
shadows dancing upon Benezeta's face. While the Grey Dwarves no longer
worshipped Benezeta, the statue remained as a tribute to the days when they had
an alliance with Tharnin. This, however, was the Blood Legion's answer to the
Divine Essence--a god of smoldering iron and dark sorcery, though Benezeta's
spirit had not appeared to them in more than three-hundred years. The statue
was breathtaking in its evil, and Lannon found he could not gaze upon it
without feeling deeply unsettled.

Chills creeping along his spine, Lannon glanced up at the
torch-lit stone ceiling--which was carved in the form of some sprawling
monstrosity. Bulbous eyes gazed down on him, and here and there were curved
teeth and claws. This depiction of some horrific beast of Tharnin seemed about
to descend on Lannon, and with a shudder, he quickly lowered his gaze. This was
the dark heart of the Blood Legion--deeper into enemy territory than Lannon had
ever been. This was a keep fit for brutal barbarians, a lair of potential
torment and death, and it was the last place Lannon wanted to be. He hoped they
would quickly succeed in their mission.

Shennen signaled Lannon to scan the fortress with the Eye.
Lannon swept his gaze out as far as he could, but his range was limited and he
detected no sign of Timlin or the Black Flamestone. He shook his head.

They moved swiftly past the guards--who never so much as
glanced their way. They entered a plain tunnel with some storage rooms on
either side. Two Jackals were walking towards them on their crooked legs, and
Shennen motioned everyone into a storage room where they hid behind some
barrels.

Lannon probed the Jackals with the Eye as they approached,
to see what their intent was. The Jackals paused outside the storage room and
sniffed the air. They caught scent of the invaders and crept into the storage
room, trying to sniff out the source of that scent. They stood before the
barrels, their sour stench filling Lannon's nostrils. Muscles rippled over
their grey, spotted fur, and drool dripped from their long muzzles. Their claws
were raised, ready to shred flesh.

As they reached for the barrels, Lannon seized the Jackals
with the Eye--even as Shennen and another Blue Knight leapt out and cut them
down. Two quick Flayer strokes and the Jackals were dead on the floor.

"I forgot to mention," Shennen whispered to
Lannon, "that Jackals can smell us. But there is nothing we can do about
it."

They hid the dead Jackals behind the barrels and crept back
into the tunnel. Lannon continued to scan for Timlin or the Black Flamestone, as
they crept deeper into the maze of rooms and passageways. They carefully
slipped past several more guards--all humans--before encountering an Ogre and
another Jackal. Lannon sensed the Goblins well in advance, but they were
approaching swiftly.

They ducked into two storage rooms, on either side of the
hall--Lannon and Shennen in one, and Aldrek and the remaining Blue Knights in
the other. The Ogre approached with heavy footsteps, while the Jackal sniffed
the air.

Shennen's expression was bitter, for the Ogre could make
for noisy combat and give them away. They waited behind some barrels. Lannon
watched the Goblins with the Eye as they entered their storage room. Then he
seized them with his power, throwing everything he had into containing and
silencing the monsters. Meanwhile, he rose and hurled his throwing star at the
Jackal. The Glaetherin blade pierced the Jackal's skull and killed it
instantly. The Jackal slumped to the floor, knocking over a barrel as it fell.

Shennen rose and hurled a dagger into the Ogre's throat.
The Ogre made gagging noises, as Lannon drew his sword and speared it through
the chest. The giant glowered at him, then went insane and broke Lannon's hold.
It grabbed his shoulders and lifted him into the air, trying to crush the life out
of him. Lannon fought to keep from being squeezed into pudding, as Shennen drew
his short sword and pierced the giant's side near the heart. Lannon thought his
bones were about to break, but then the Ogre's hands went limp and the giant
dropped to the floor in death.

Shennen sighed in relief and patted Lannon on the back.
"Well done," he whispered. They made an effort to conceal the dead
Goblins--though parts of them still showed.

They entered the storage room across the hall--to find the
others had fallen victim to a trap. Apparently, they had ducked behind an iron
door and the door had locked itself somehow, leaving them trapped behind it.
Lannon probed the lock with the Eye, but found it too complex for him to
manipulate.

"I could try forcing it," Lannon whispered.
"But it might be noisy."

"Fools!" Shennen whispered. "I expected
better of them. We can't risk making any loud noises. We shall have to leave
them for now."

Lannon studied the door with the Eye. It was an ancient
Dwarven creation, designed to create confusion in the keep in the event of an
invasion. It had done its job well in separating them. He could sense the
others standing in a tunnel beyond, waiting to be rescued. But he couldn't tell
where the tunnel led.

"We must continue on," Shennen insisted.
"Any attempt to force this door open could alert our foes and spoil the
mission. We'll have to figure something out later. Right now we need to find
that Flamestone!"

"What about Aldrek Windspear?" asked Lannon.
"Don't we need his power to move unseen?"

"Not necessarily," said Shennen. "I only
brought Aldrek to get us into the keep, and he did his job. I can make myself
invisible to foes within close range, and I believe you can do the same--if you
focus enough."

Lannon hesitated, his gaze on the iron door. How could they
just leave them to their fate? It seemed terribly cruel, but what choice did
they have?

Shennen grabbed Lannon's shoulder and whispered, "Use
the Eye. Make yourself invisible!" With that, he practically dragged
Lannon out into the tunnel--where they came face to face with Ulmason
Deathhand.

Lannon hadn't had time to attempt invisibility, and Ulmason
spotted them instantly. His lips split into a grin beneath his horned helm. He
shouted a warning. Moments later, two Legion warriors came running along the
tunnel from the opposite direction as Ulmason, their swords drawn--a pair of
muscular, bearded barbarians with fire in their eyes.

"Welcome to my keep," Ulmason said. He raised his
battle axe, his huge, armored bulk filling the tunnel. "I awoke from a
dream...a dream that fools had come into my lair to die. Turns out it wasn't
merely a dream."

"Kill the two warriors," Shennen said to Lannon,
"and leave this one to me!" The Lord of the Blue Knights moved toward
Ulmason. He lifted his mask briefly to show his foe who he was.

Ulmason looked delighted. "Shennen Silverarrow! I've
wanted to kill you for years. This will be a true pleasure."

Lannon faced the barbarians--who were closing in swiftly
and bellowing--with his sword held ready. He channeled the Eye into the blade
and waited. Behind him, he could hear a clash of weapons between Shennen and
Ulmason.

It was time to fight or die.

***

At
Dorok's Hand, there was a change of plans, and everyone was awakened in the
middle of the night and ordered to prepare for travel. No explanation was
provided as to why they were leaving in the dead of night, before even being
allowed breakfast. The ancient fortress was bustling with activity, as Knights
and Orange Squires scurried around gathering supplies and filling the wagons.
Had they been returning to Dremlock, the mood would have been festive, for no
one--with the exception of a few Grey Dwarves--had any love for Dorok's Hand.
Instead, the mood was grim and everywhere were somber, tired faces. A feeling
of sadness and defeat hung in the air, for they were abandoning a keep that had
cost many lives to secure.

Soon
nothing was left but the cold stone hallways, as Dremlock's servants walked
from the keep with their heads bowed. They sat on horseback in the chill air in
the moonlight, gazing at a fortress that now stood dark and silent.

At
Taris' command, Prince Vannas unleashed the White Flamestone upon the gates,
and soon they were ablaze, flames and smoke rising high into the air. The white
fire made quick work of the enormous logs, and soon pieces of burning timber
came crashing down to the snow. Grim faces, cast in the pale light of the fire,
watched until the last of the logs had burned away and only a yawning cavern
was left to mark the entrance to Dorok's Hand. The statue of Dorok now looked
cold and abandoned, a forgotten monument from another age.

Then,
with heavy hearts, the servants of Dremlock rode off through the mountains to
meet their destiny.

Aldreya
rode up alongside Taris. She steadied her nerves and said, "I have decided
I am fully loyal to Dremlock, and I would like to undertake the Trial of
Shades." She didn't know if it was the appropriate time to bring up the
topic, considering they were on such a vital mission, but she was tired of waiting
and wanted to let him know what she'd decided. After Aldreya spoke the words,
she realized there was no turning back. Honor demanded she proceed.

Taris
sat with his head bowed, dark and silent beneath his hooded cloak as he guided
his horse. For a moment, Aldreya wasn't sure he'd heard her, but then Taris
gave a slight nod.

"Good,"
he said. "I was hoping you would arrive at that decision. If we survive
the battle with Bellis, and we have some spare time on our hands, you may
partake in the Trial of Shades. For now, however, I want you focused entirely
on this mission. If we win, we will send a strong message to Bellis that
Dremlock does not yield to tyranny."