Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows (7 page)

But
then Thrake slipped in the snow and fell hard to one knee, his battle axe
flying from his hand. Grinning, Ulmason kicked Thrake in the chest and knocked
him on his back. The Legion warrior stood over him, the heavy axe poised for
the kill. Thrake lay with a devastated look on his face.

Ulmason
Deathhand boomed laughter. "This duel is finished! A slip of the foot has
now cost you your life!"

The
Knights and Squires groaned in dismay.

Ulmason
grinned at the crowd. "Did you get your entertainment for the day? Ready
for some bloodshed to top it off?"

"Get
up, Thrake!" Jerret pleaded.

But
Thrake only continued to lay there, looking defeated.

"Kill
him and be done with it," Timlin commanded.

Lannon
knew he could use the Eye of Divinity to save Thrake's life. But it would cost
him his chance at Knighthood--and more importantly, Thrake would never forgive
him for it. The Red Knight was far too proud for that. And so Lannon simply
stood and waited for the horrific end to the duel.

"It
was a good fight, Thrake Wolfaxe," Ulmason said. "You have proven
yourself to be a worthy opponent. Do you yield?"

Thrake
hesitated, then said, "Yes, I yield." There was no shame in the loser
of a duel yielding if his opponent allowed it. It simply meant that although
he'd lost, his life would be spared.

Ulmason
placed his horned helm back on his head. Then he raised his axe in triumph.
"I am the winner! I have defeated one of the strongest Knights of
Dremlock! This is a great day for the Blood Legion!" Then he glanced down
at Thrake. "If we fight again, it will be to the death."

Taris'
face bore a bitter expression. "Yes, Ulmason Deathhand has won the duel. I
declare it a fair victory. Do you agree, Timlin?"

"It
was a fair victory," said Timlin.

"Having
lost the duel," Taris went on, "we shall remain camped here for three
days." He motioned to an Orange Squire--a scribe. "Let this be entered
into the official records of Dremlock."

Ulmason
swung onto his horse, as the Divine Knights and Squires looked on in miserable
silence. "Dremlock's days are coming to an end!" the Dark Knight
bellowed. "We have now gained a huge advantage, and you will soon
understand what I mean. Sit here for three long days and contemplate
that!" Ulmason threw back his head and laughed. "Oh, what a fine
morning this has been!"

Timlin
grinned. "Enjoy your rest, oh mighty Taris. And you too, Lannon. Soon
you'll be resting for eternity."

With
that, the two happy warriors rode from the camp.

***

Later
that night, as the Squires sat warming themselves in their tent, Thrake
shuffled in carrying a flask and sat down. His face was gloomy, and again he
smelled of wine. He sighed and shook his head. The Squires gazed at him in
pity, knowing the pain he was undoubtedly feeling over losing the duel.

"How
are you, Master?" asked Jerret, looking sad.

"Terrible,
of course," Thrake muttered. "I still can't believe I lost. I'm certain
I could have defeated him, if only I wouldn't have slipped."

"Things
like that happen," said Lothrin, with a shrug. The lean Squire was always
busy with something. This time, he sat polishing his bow. "At least you
lived to fight again. What more could a warrior ask for?"

"I
almost wish he had finished me off," said Thrake, taking a huge drink of
wine afterwards. Some of it ran down his beard and he wiped it on his sleeve.
"I'm ashamed to call myself a Divine Knight. I came here, risking
Shennen's wrath, to apologize to you Squires for failing you."

"An
apology is not necessary," said Jerret. "You fought well and could
easily have won. As Lothrin said, anyone can lose a fight if they have bad
luck."

"I
didn't say anything about luck," said Lothrin.

"Yet
a slip in the snow is bad luck," said Jerret. "Right? Or are you
trying to say it was Master Thrake's destiny to lose?"

Lothrin
didn't reply.

"You're
a great warrior, Master Thrake," said Prince Vannas. "You fought with
honor and did your best. Anyone can lose their footing. As far as I'm
concerned, you were the better fighter today."

"I'm
just glad you're alive," said Lannon. "For a moment, I thought I was
going to have to stand there and watch you die."

"I
was
ready
to die," said Thrake. "Now, I have to find a way to
live with my shame." He guzzled some more wine.

"Perhaps
you should have some water instead," said Lannon, though he knew it was a
bold statement to make to a Knight. He thought of Dremlock's beloved Lord
Knight, Cordus Landsaver, who'd also tried and failed to drink away his
troubles. Lannon decided he would not follow that path regardless of the
sorrows he experienced, for no good ever seemed to come of it.

"You
speak true, Squire," said Thrake. "But right now, I just want to
drink my wine until I sleep...and forget about everything."

"You'll
be fine, Master," said Jerret. "We'll meet that Knight again on the
battlefield, and next time, you'll finish him off. I'm certain of it."

"I
hope you're right, Jerret," said Thrake, though he looked doubtful.
"I would welcome a chance to redeem myself."

Shennen
poked his head into the tent, glaring with disapproval. He sighed. "So
you're in here again, Thrake, in spite of my orders. I expected as much. You
have no respect for those who outrank you. No doubt indulging in spirits when
you shouldn't be and whining about your defeat."

"I'm
not whining," said Thrake, "though the defeat does sting."

"Thrake
fought well," Jerret protested.

"Silence,
arrogant Squire!" Shennen commanded. "Or you will feel the flat of my
blade against your backside! The days of Squires with bold tongues are over.
Thrake does not need you to defend him."

Jerret
didn't answer, but his eyes smoldered with anger.

The
other Squires looked on with tense faces.

"Shennen
speaks true," said Thrake, bowing his head. "I'm not worthy of being
defended. I failed, and that's all there is to it."

"And
failed
miserably
," said Shennen. "As it always will be."

Thrake's
face darkened. "As it always will be? So you say, Birlote. But I still
have my life. This body is still strong and capable."

"Yes,
for the moment," Shennen whispered. He winked at Lannon. His devilish,
bone-white face bore a wicked grin.

 
Lannon summoned the Eye of Divinity. Lannon
feared Shennen, but he was also a well-trained Squire and would kill to save
himself if it came to that. Garrin Daggerblood had learned that truth the hard
way.

"Is
something wrong, Master Shennen?" asked Lannon, though it was clear that
something was
very
wrong.

"Nothing
that won't soon be taken care of," Shennen replied, his gaze focused on
Thrake.

Thrake's
eyes widened and his hand tightened around his axe handle. "What are you
saying? Is that another..." His words trailed off, for Shennen's ghastly
face had already withdrawn from the tent.

Thrake
waited in silence for a moment, then rose and left.

***

Lannon
lay awake in the tent after everyone else had gone to sleep. He kept the
lantern lit, fearing the dark. Shennen's pale, grinning face kept flashing
through his mind. He wondered how the other Squires could sleep. The four boys
lay side by side and the two girls lay across from them. At one point, Lannon
sent the Eye of Divinity outside the tent to investigate and found to his
relief that Thrake and three other Knights were standing guard. However, he had
no idea when Thrake's shift would end and Shennen would take over.

But
as the hours slipped past and Lannon checked again to find that the same four
Knights were still standing guard, he began to grow drowsy. He found himself
slipping in and out of sleep.

Suddenly,
Lannon awoke to discover the interior of the tent in total darkness. Panic
surged through him and he tried to summon the Eye, but something was choking
off his power. He tried to move but found himself paralyzed. He couldn't even
cry out for help.

And
then a dagger erupted into purple flames, to reveal the bearded face of Thrake
Wolfaxe, who stood over Lannon. Relief flooded through the Squire, for Lannon
was certain Thrake was in the process of rescuing him from some servant of the
Deep Shadow. But a cold shock tore through Lannon as he looked into Thrake's
eyes. The Red Knight's face was twisted with malice, his eyes bearing a purple
hue. His forehead and cheeks seemed scaly.

"Relax,
Lannon," Thrake whispered. "No one knows I'm here. Three Knights lie
sleeping outside, and the other Squires are hopelessly asleep in here. They
won't awaken to save you. How do I know? Because I made them sleep." He
raised his free hand, which had dark claws protruding from the fingertips, and
a purple fog surrounded it. "I am the Dragon Knight, Lannon."

Lannon
felt anger at himself along with his panic. He couldn't believe that once again
he was lying helpless in a tent, about to be assassinated. He also felt deep
sorrow and could barely believe Thrake was a puppet of Tharnin.

"I
have a voice in my head," said Thrake, "that whispers its will. My
life has guidance now and a grand purpose. Oh, and I have the White Flamestone
as well, which I will take to the Blood Legion." Thrake held up the pouch
containing the gem, then tucked it into a pocket of his fur cloak. "But I
hate you so much, Lannon, that I cannot leave without killing you."

Lannon
had been in this situation before, but this time the sorcery that held him was
too powerful to overcome. He simply couldn't connect to the Eye. The feeling of
helplessness was maddening, the realization that he could only lay there and
watch as Thrake finished him off.

"This
will be a bitter end for you," said Thrake. He touched the burning blade
to Lannon's throat, and Lannon's skin erupted with agony. "I don't know
why I hate you so much. I hate you even more than that vile Birlote
Shennen."

Suddenly,
Thrake cried out and stiffened, the dagger pulling away from Lannon's throat.
The point of a long, gleaming dagger--a
Flayer
--now jutted out of
Thrake's chest. A face appeared over his shoulder in the light of the flames,
pale and with cold, focused eyes. The shadows had come to life in the tent and
struck Thrake from behind, piercing stout armor and the beating heart beneath.
Lannon's savior, and Thrake's doom, was now revealed.

It
was Shennen.

In
spite of the blade in his heart, Thrake rose and whirled around, ripping the
dagger from Shennen's hand in the process. He lashed out with clawed fingers
and knocked Shennen out through the tent door. Then he turned back toward
Lannon, the blade still protruding out of his chest.

But
Lannon, who'd been released from Thrake's sorcery, was already on his feet, the
Eye of Divinity surging forth. He cried out a warning to the camp, as loud as
he could yell it, as he seized Thrake with the Eye. Thrake's resistance to
Lannon's power was enormous, and for a moment he stood his ground, his claws
reaching for Lannon's throat. Finally, Lannon managed to shove him out into the
moonlight, where Knights were already rushing from their tents. Lannon stepped
out after him. Four Knights lay unconscious in the snow, including Shennen--who
had blood dripping from his head.

As
the Knights closed in on Thrake, he hissed in hatred and drove at Lannon with
his axe--even as a blazing arrow from an archer's bow lodged in his back.
Lannon drew his Dragon sword and channeled the Eye into it on instinct,
blocking a downward stroke from Thrake's huge axe. Without the power of the
Eye, Thrake's axe would have smashed Lannon's blade aside with ease and brought
Lannon to ruin. Instead, it glanced away in a shower of sparks.

Lannon
hesitated, wondering how he might take the giant prisoner. But the Divine
Knights had other ideas, and their blazing weapons tore into Thrake, bringing
him to his knees. He hissed and bellowed, steam emerging from his nostrils.
Then at last he slumped to the snow in death.

Chapter
5:
 
A Shadow in the Moonlight

Taris
Warhawk had emerged from his tent, and he stood gazing at Lannon with a look of
sorrow on his face. "Are the other Squires okay?"

"I
think they're only asleep," said Lannon, his breath frosty in the night
air. He gazed down at Thrake's body, overwhelmed with shock. He wondered how
Jerret was going to react when he discovered the truth about Thrake. Lannon
found himself enraged at the Deep Shadow for corrupting such a great Knight,
and he vowed to make Tharnin pay for what it had done.

Taris
sent a healer into the tent to check on the Squires, while another healer
examined Shennen and the other unconscious Knights.

Shennen
awoke with a groan. He pushed the healer's probing hand aside and rose, wiping
blood from his head. "I suspected it was Thrake all along," he said
to Taris, "after I caught him visiting the Dragon bones in Dorok's Hand.
But I couldn't prove it. I allowed others to think it was me who was the
assassin, in order to let Thrake gain false confidence."

"I
never thought you were the assassin," said Taris. "But I didn't
believe Thrake was, either. I admit I was completely fooled."

Lannon
was astonished that Thrake had somehow been able to deceive Taris. It seemed
impossible. But Lannon reminded himself that even Taris was mortal and couldn't
see the truth in everything.

"I
didn't want to believe it either," said Shennen. "But it is the way
of things. We have lost a great Knight to the Deep Shadow."

The
healer emerged from the tent and informed Taris that the Squires were in a
heavy sleep but not injured.

"And
the White Flamestone?" asked Taris.

Shennen
searched Thrake and then held up the black pouch. "Still in our
possession."

"This
could have been a disaster," said Taris, shaking his head. "Had
Lannon been assassinated and the Flamestone taken..."

"Indeed,"
said Shennen. "I didn't know Thrake was capable of putting three of our best
Knights to sleep with such ease--that he'd been granted such power by the Deep
Shadow. It seems it was instinct alone that caused me to awaken and leave my
tent. When I saw the three guards lying in the snow, I feared the worst. The
other Knights, who were supposed to check on Thrake, must have never left their
tents. I assume we will find them under the influence of his sorcery, sound
asleep. It pains me to say this, but Thrake nearly succeeded in his plan."

"But
he didn't," said Taris, "because of you, my friend. I know it hurt
you deeply to be accused by rumor of being the assassin."

Shennen
bowed his head. "It did, and it also made me angry. But now that the truth
is revealed, I only feel empty inside. I've lost a good friend, and Dremlock
has lost one its best warriors. This is a sad night for us all."

"Then
Thrake obviously lost the duel on purpose," said Taris, with a sour
expression. "I should have listened to you, Shennen."

Shennen
shrugged. "You had every right to trust Thrake. His heart seemed incorruptible.
Yet when I saw him slip during the duel, I could tell it was intentional. That
left no doubt in my mind that he was our enemy."

Trenton
approached them, looking frustrated. "I knew we should never have accepted
that contest. My instincts warned me against it. But how could we have known
Thrake was a traitor?"

"We
likely could not have known," said Jace, as he stepped from his tent and
stretched his long arms. He yawned. "A Dragon Knight is able to conceal
itself quite well--though Lannon might have been able to see the truth had he
been looking for it. We are quite lucky that Shennen was alert to Thrake's
schemes. Had Thrake escaped this camp, he would have grown into an extremely
powerful adversary and Dremlock would have paid dearly for its ignorance."

Shennen
sighed. "You were right about the Dragon bones, Jace. I suspected it early
on, but didn't want to admit it to myself. In a way, I believe the bones are
influencing me too--as I still long to study them even after this incident.
However, I still have full control over my actions."

"You
proved that by saving my life," said Lannon, bowing to the Blue Knight.
"Had it not been for you, I would be dead by now."

Taris'
hands knotted into fists, his usual calm demeanor shattered. "The duel was
unfair and shall not be honored. I will send a messenger to inform the Blood
Legion that Tharnin's puppet has met his doom. Then we ride forth at
dawn!"

Taris
called a meeting in the camp. Tired, somber Knights gathered in a circle around
the sorcerer in the moonlight. Taris stood next to Thrake's body, his face lost
in shadow beneath the hood of his cloak. Lannon's fellow Squires were still
asleep thanks to Thrake's sorcery, and Jace had slipped back into his tent.
Lannon realized Jace had been rather quiet lately, but as a member of the
Divine Shield, Jace should have been present for the meeting.

"A
great Knight has fallen to the will of the Deep Shadow," said Taris.
"This is a reminder that no one is immune to the corruption of Tharnin. It
is foolish and arrogant to believe otherwise. We must hold a funeral
immediately and burn Thrake's remains, as they could still be infested with
dark sorcery."

The
Knights gathered wood from a grove of trees and built a funeral pyre. They laid
Thrake atop it. Taris stood before the pyre, stone dagger in hand. "Thrake
cannot be honored in the usual way," he said, "because he succumbed
to the Deep Shadow. Therefore, only his axe and armor will be returned to
Dremlock for burial. His ashes will be left here in the snow. It troubles me to
do this, but we must obey the Sacred Laws."

Taris
stood in silence for a moment and then added, "But Thrake served Dremlock
well and we should remember him as the noble warrior and friend we all knew. We
should speak fondly of him." With that, Taris lit the pyre with his
burning dagger and stepped back, his head bowed.

A
long period of silence followed. Lannon gazed at Thrake's body as the flames
rose up around it, the finality of death heavy in his heart. This was truly the
end of Thrake Wolfaxe and nothing would remain but ashes. It had all happened
so quickly that Lannon was still in shock.

Lannon
wondered how many other Knights of Dremlock were infested with the Deep Shadow
and plotting his doom. Thrake had been able to hide it easily, even from the
Eye of Divinity. For all his supposed ability to see deeper truths, Lannon felt
blinded by the darkness of Tharnin and very alone.

***

The
next day, Lannon had the unpleasant task of explaining to his friends the grim
fate that had befallen Thrake. The Squires awoke at dawn and seemed free of any
lingering affects of Thrake's sorcery, so Lannon told them the tale as they
looked on in shock and dismay.

Jerret
at first seemed unwilling to believe Lannon's version of what had happened. He
paced around in the tent and shouted irrational accusations at Lannon,
suggesting Lannon was the one under the influence of Tharnin. Lannon simply sat
quietly and didn't respond, knowing Jerret needed time to come to terms with
the reality of the situation.

 
But once Jerret saw the ashes from the
funeral pyre and had a talk with Taris Warhawk, he came to accept Lannon's
story as truth--though he withdrew inside himself and refused to talk to anyone
after that.

Jerret
knelt in the snow before the ashes for a long time beneath a grey sky, his head
bowed. Lannon and the others tried to console him but Jerret motioned them
away, tears in his eyes. At last they left him alone to grieve as the tents
were taken down and packed away for travel.

And
then they were riding toward Blombalk again, leaving behind only dark ashes and
a few charred logs in the snow. Jerret's expression was bitter, and he wouldn't
look at the other Squires. By the time they stopped for a quick lunch, however,
he revealed his thoughts.

"It
doesn't make any sense," Jerret said. "Thrake was too strong to be a
puppet of Tharnin, and he never showed any signs. Something is very wrong here,
and I'm going to find out what it is."

"I
think you're mistaken," said Lannon. "I find it hard to believe too.
Even Taris does. But the truth is the truth, and you need to accept that."

"I
don't accept it," said Jerret, "because I know in my heart that
Thrake could never turn to evil like that. Strange how everyone has so easily
forgotten the kind of Knight he was. Where is your loyalty?"

"No
one has forgotten who Thrake was," said Aldreya. "But at some point
he made a dire mistake and the Deep Shadow found its way into his heart. Thrake
was human and he had weaknesses, just like all of us."

"And
what about Shennen?" Jerret said, in a loud voice. "What about his
bizarre behavior? Has everyone forgotten about that?"

Shennen
turned in the saddle and gazed at Jerret. "Believe what you want about me,
Squire. Your grief blinds you to reason. But Lannon knows it was Thrake who
stood over him with a drawn dagger--preparing to inflict pain and death. And it
was I who saved Lannon from that fate."

Jerret's
face was sullen and defiant.

"Let
it go, Jerret," said Vannas. "Thrake's story is ended and nothing can
be done about it. But you still have a bright future at Dremlock."

"Leave
me alone!" Jerret snarled. "I don't need any stupid lectures from an
arrogant prince. I'll figure things out for myself."

At
last Jace spoke up. The giant, purple-cloaked sorcerer rode next to Jerret.
"Remember Thrake's lessons and draw strength from them, young man. And
bear in mind that Thrake is in some elite company."

Jerret
gazed up at Jace with a curious expression. "What do you mean by
elite
company?
"

Jace
smiled briefly and said, "Some of the greatest Divine Knights in history
have fallen to the Deep Shadow. The Dark Watchmen were amongst them--those
Sword Masters and elite guardians of Dremlock who once formed the Sacred
Circle. The Dark Watchmen--who were widely believed to be incorruptible. They
all succumbed to the evil of Tharnin and were destroyed by it. Do you believe
that Thrake was stronger than the legendary Dark Watchmen?"

Jerret
looked away, his eyes full of sorrow.

Jace
fixed his gaze on Lannon. "The Dark Watchmen were the most blessed servants
of the Divine Essence. The Eye of Divinity was theirs to command, and they
learned to use it with great focus. They were going to at last defeat the
servants of Tharnin and seal the portals forever. But one by one the darkness
took them, and they nearly brought down Dremlock Kingdom."

Lannon
wasn't sure what to say, so he kept quiet, feeling uncomfortable. He could
sense the other Squires looking at him as well.

Jace's
gaze lingered on Lannon for a moment, and Lannon wondered if Jace was trying to
prove something to him in the mysterious way that sorcerers sometimes gave
lessons. But Lannon had already been warned about the fate of the Dark Watchmen
and didn't feel Jace's lesson was needed.

Lannon
rode up alongside Shennen and motioned to him. The two moved slightly apart
from the others so they could talk in private.

 
"I'm sorry I doubted you, Master
Shennen," Lannon said. "I will admit I was convinced you were in
league with Tharnin."

"You
had every right to believe that," said Shennen. "I was deliberately
antagonistic toward you and others." He ran his fingers over his pale
forehead. "And the sudden change to my skin tone has been startling to
some. The Dragon bones affected my appearance, but not my will or spirit. On
the other hand, they had no obvious effect on Thrake's appearance--but somehow
altered his will and spirit. The Deep Shadow is indeed a strange foe."

"When
you threw me into that wall," said Lannon, "I thought you were either
trying to harm me or were being very careless. It seemed out of character for
you. After that, I didn't trust you anymore."

Shennen
raised his eyebrows. "Out of character? That was actually a valuable
lesson for you. You learned how easily you could be defeated by the right
foe--that the Eye of Divinity can't protect you against every attack."

"You
almost crushed my skull," said Lannon, feeling some of the old anger
return. "I barely had time to save myself."

"I
knew you would not be harmed," said Shennen.

"How
could you have possibly known that?" asked Lannon.

 
Shennen frowned. "I am a fully trained
Knight. You are a relatively inexperienced Squire. Do not question my
knowledge. If it bothers you that much, you should call a meeting and let Taris
deal with it. I'm sure the High Council wouldn't be happy with me roughing up
their prized Squire. But know this--I will be very disappointed in you for not
recognizing the value of the lesson. I never intended to harm you. I intended
to
save
you."

"Save
me from what?" asked Lannon.

"From
a foe like Timlin Woodmaster," said Shennen. "Timlin was an unusually
talented Blue Squire, and now he is infested with the power of the Deep Shadow.
Sooner or later you may end up in a duel with him. You will try to fight him as
you did Vorden, and he will cut you to pieces."