Knights: Book 01 - The Eye of Divinity (34 page)

Before he drew the Eye back completely, Lannon summoned all his remaining courage and searched for the giant hand. It took all the will he possessed to bring himself to look for that horror, and he was grateful, in many ways, when he failed to find it. Much uncertainty remained, since he could not cover all the areas below ground from here, but now it wasn't difficult to persuade himself that the hand might have been a product of his imagination. After all, Taris claimed to know the ghosts that lurked within. Perhaps Lannon had misinterpreted one of them, or perhaps one of the ghosts had used its power to scare him with an illusion. Taris had said they sometimes tried to frighten people.

"I can't find an entrance," Lannon said. "But I don't see any dangers, either."

"Were you able to view all the crypts?" Taris asked.

Slowly Lannon shook his head, knowing what this would mean.

Immediately, Taris pulled out a ring of keys and unlocked the gate. "We shall begin near the center," the sorcerer said, "and then work our way out towards the edges. I have a strong suspicion a lost entrance lies in here somewhere, and so we must be thorough, Lannon. The fate of Dremlock may depend on it."

Lannon nodded, and with wobbly legs, he followed the Tower Masters into the Cemetery. The snow was deep here, having piled up over the course of the winter, but it was frozen into a crust that they were able to walk atop it. Some of the tombstones were just barely visible as they poked out of the snow, while other, more splendid ones towered overhead. With each step, Lannon imagined huge fingers exploding up through the crust and latching onto him, and he held the Eye of Divinity in a defensive posture, imagining that it was a shield protecting him from harm.

When they reached the middle of the Cemetery, they stood in the shadow of a stone tomb dedicated to a Lord Knight named Harswald Greatsword. In spite of an inscription that told of Harswald's nobility and heroics, the tomb had a strange and ugly look, decorated with depictions of leering Goblin heads and grinning skulls at the base. Lannon was confused.

Taris smiled, as he watched the boy study the tomb. "Old Garthane," he said. "That is what we call this style. Garthane Goldenaxe did the design work on some of the tombs of this Cemetery, and several other places, including the East Library in my tower. He was an eccentric Olrog Knight, and fiercely stubborn--even by Dwarven standards. He had an exuberant personality, which contrasted his fantastic and grim sculptures. Throughout the ages, many have declared his work unfit for a holy kingdom like Dremlock. However, I very much like his work, and find it quite unique."

"Always time for a bit of history and philosophy," said Furlus, rolling his eyes, "when Taris Warhawk is present. Now are we going to stand here and freeze, or get on with our task? Last I knew, we were facing a possible invasion."

Taris nodded. "Begin your search, Lannon."

Lannon sent his gaze straight down, and about thirty feet below discovered a tunnel with a door of Glaetherin--protected by a wheel lock. The passageway had the unmistakable feel of the mines. The stone had been tunneled through around the door of Glaetherin, and in that tunnel was a man in his final stages of life. He wore stout black armor, yet he had been partially crushed, and he had crawled into that tunnel, where he lay bleeding away his life. Shocked at this sight, Lannon momentarily lost his control, and the Eye veered off in a random direction, going past the tunnel and into a large chamber--where an even more dastardly sight awaited Lannon.

The floor of the room was littered with corpses--black-armored men and women who had all been crushed and battered. Echoes remained of screams, pain, and terror. Some had escaped, fleeing off down the tunnels, vowing never to return. Other echoes crowded in, ancient and reeking of evil, and he grew sick to his stomach, doubling over. Too late, he realized he had stretched himself too thin, and for an instant, he found he could not draw his power back. He realized Taris was clutching his arm, mumbling strange words in his ear. The Eye suddenly retreated all the way into him.

"They're all dead!" Lannon panted, struggling to catch his breath. "Killed by something... Wait, one man is alive. He crawled into a tunnel, but he won't last long." For an instant, Lannon thought he was going to pass out. But then the sickness slipped away and he managed to stand up straight.

"Wait here," Taris said sternly, to Furlus. "I am going to go down and speak with the dying man. We need to know what caused this."

Furlus scowled, but knowing he needed to stay and protect Lannon, he did as Taris commanded. "Just hurry up!" he muttered.

Taris unlocked the tomb and entered, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked from inside.

The two waited in silence. Only Furlus' raspy breathing could be heard, as the Olrog's barrel chest rose and fell. He fidgeted restlessly, switching his battle axe from hand to hand.

Moments later, the lock clicked and Taris stepped out, carrying the dying man over his shoulder. Gently, Taris laid him in the snow, and then locked the tomb again. The sorcerer knelt over the wounded man.

The Black Knight was big fellow, as wide as Furlus and a foot taller, and his face was covered in a bushy red beard. His plate armor had been caved in, his bones broken beneath. The snow turned crimson around him.

The Black Knight smiled as he gazed at the heavens. "Open sky," he rasped. "Thank you, Birlote, for granting my last wish. "In return, I will answer your questions. Know this, however--I shall never betray my brothers."

"I understand," said Taris. "Was Tenneth Bard your leader?"

"Tenneth Bard?" said the Black Knight. "You speak a name I haven't heard since I was a Squire of your kingdom."

"A Squire?" said Taris. Then his eyes opened wide. "Thadin?"

The Black Knight nodded. "You should have recognized me sooner, sorcerer. I dwelt in your tower, until the High Council cast me out for a single incident of daring to enter a forbidden area. No second chances, just banishment."

"So you joined the Blood Legion?" Taris said quietly. "You traded your honor because you felt wronged."

"No," said Thadin. "I wanted to be a Knight, and that is all. Most who join the Blood Legion are not as vengeful as you think--they simply want the glory of Knighthood, and the Blood Legion offers that if Dremlock will not." He made choking noises for a moment, and coughed up blood. "Speak swiftly, sorcerer."

"Who is your leader?"

"Arnin Deathbringer, a powerful sorcerer."

"With eyes of violet?" Taris said.

Thadin nodded. "That is him. Does he yet live?"

Taris didn't answer. "Who slew your brothers, Thadin?"

"A fiend that Arnin raised from the depths," said Thadin. "We were supposed to be able to control it and use it to bring down Dremlock, but it went insane and attacked us. Now it is loose in the tunnels, seeking the blood of whoever it comes across."

"Describe it, Thadin," said Taris.

"Terrible beauty," Thadin said. "I know of no other way to tell of it. And now I say this... We are the Blood Legion, and we are mighty. Dremlock's time is nearing an end. Your victory will be a brief one, and soon enough, you'll come to understand why you cannot prevail against us. All is not as it appears to be. I have long suspected the truth, and I have feared it. But now, as I pass from this world, I have no fear. Let the future come swiftly, and let all so-called Divine Knights tremble in the face of--"

Thadin's eyes rolled back in death.

Chapter 20:
 
Spiders, Honors, and Promotions

For nearly two weeks following what had occurred in Dremlock Cemetery, Lannon was confined with Vorden and Timlin to the East Tower, and they didn't see Aldreya at all during that period. They were permitted to leave their quarters only when absolutely necessary. (The same was true for all the less advanced Squires.) They didn't know what was happening around the kingdom--only catching bits of pieces of rumor that could not be substantiated.

Each evening, Lannon would lie awake for hours wondering if Dremlock had finished off the Blood Legion and the Goblin Lords, and the powerful fiend that had killed all those Black Knights, or if things had taken a turn for the worse. Many times he thought of his parents, so far away in Knights Valley and undoubtedly knowing nothing of what was happing at Dremlock. He believed his father would have been proud of how he had helped the Knights--even if their victory turned out to be short-lived.

And what of Kalamede? Had the city fallen, or were the Goblins driven back? Lannon could get no answers from the Knights, and the Eye of Divinity lay dormant, for he had no desire to call it forth at this point. He felt he needed to relax his mind, to recuperate from the great toll his use of the power had taken on his body. After each day of rest, he felt a little stronger and a little more energized.

Yet Vorden had begun to act strangely. When Lannon tried to talk about the questions that haunted his mind, Vorden acted as if he couldn't care less, brushing Lannon aside with a statement such as, "You worry too much, Lannon." Each night Vorden would take out his new sword and just stare at it--sometimes for hours. He seemed distant and irritable, and his once hearty appetite had diminished. He had lost weight and his skin looked pale.

When Lannon at last questioned him about it, Vorden insisted nothing was wrong, but Lannon wasn't fooled. Something else was wrong with Vorden, and there was no doubt in Lannon' mind it had to do with that dark blade.

Finally Lannon confronted him about it one night, demanding to know why he hadn't been himself lately.

"I told you," Vorden replied, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. Why can't you just go find something to do?"

"You should get rid of that sword," Lannon said. "It came from the mines, and it can't be a good thing. And it's ugly looking, too."

Vorden glowered at him, placing his hands protectively over the sword. Lannon suddenly felt like he was staring at the face of total stranger. "Mind your own business, Lannon!" Vorden snapped. "This sword saved your life. It hurt Tenneth Bard when nothing else could. So quit complaining about it."

"I'm just saying--"

"Well, don't!" Vorden interrupted. He went back to staring at the sword. Suddenly, spiders seemed to be crawling on his face--little shadowy ones. They appeared there for an instant, and then Lannon blinked his eyes and they were gone.

Had the spiders actually existed?

Vorden looked up. "I'm sick of having you stare at me like I'm a freak. So you want to know the truth? Fine! There is a shadow under this thing, Lannon. It interests me because it seems so full of depth. I don't know what it is. Sometimes when I watch it, it changes form. It's not really good, but I know it's not evil, either. It's not the Deep Shadow if that's what you're thinking. It's some kind of new thing--like no one has ever thought of. And I'm going to learn its secrets!"

"Just be careful," Lannon said, chilled to the bone.

***

Thirteen days after Tenneth Bard's death, the Squires were at last permitted to leave their quarters but not the East Tower. Lannon met in the Library with Aldreya and Timlin to talk things over. Lannon was grateful for this bit of freedom, for he knew it meant the Knights must be faring well in their war--yet always he felt like he was being watched by someone or something whenever he left his room.

"I think Vorden is becoming possessed," Lannon whispered. "All he does is lie around and stare at that stupid sword. I can't reason with him."

"Can you use your power to find out?" said Aldreya. "Also, you could take a look at the sword and learn if it's evil."

Lannon shook his head. "I haven't used the Eye of Divinity since we were down in the mines. I don't think I should right now."

"Why not?" said Aldreya. "If I had a power like that, I would use it. What is stopping you, Lannon?"

Lannon shrugged. In the back of his mind, he knew he should be practicing with the Eye now that he was rested, learning its secrets. But something was thwarting him--a deep fear he could not explain. He reasoned that although he felt better overall, he was still worn out mentally and required more rest.

"Maybe we should tell Master Garrin about Vorden," said Timlin. "Before Vorden ends up possessed like Clayith was."

"We should tell Taris instead," said Aldreya. "He would probably be more understanding than anyone else."

"I don't know," said Lannon. "I don't want Vorden to get banished. Maybe we should just steal the sword and get rid of it. He keeps it under his bed, wrapped in cloth. It wouldn't be hard to swipe it, except that he always stays near it. We'd have to get it while he's asleep--take it right out from under him."

"I can do it," said Aldreya. "No one will see me."

Lannon nodded. "Just be careful. Vorden is really obsessed with that sword. If he catches you stealing it, who knows what he might do?"

Aldreya smiled. "I can protect myself, Lannon."

"That's true enough," said Lannon, remembering Aldreya was a talented Birlote sorceress. "I guess I don't have to worry about that."

"I'll get the sword," she said, smoothing her silver hair away from her pointed ears. She smiled devilishly, and for the first time, Lannon saw the Tree Dweller in her very strongly. He did not doubt she would complete her goal.

But Aldreya never got a chance to prove her words, for soon after their discussion, Vorden stepped into the Library. His color looked better, and he seemed like his normal self. "Talking about me?" he said, smiling.

The others said nothing, and exchanged glances. The tension was thick between them.

Vorden chuckled. "I got rid of that sword, you know--in case you were wondering. I tossed it down a well. I do think it was evil. I know I'm better off without it. I snuck outside late last night and dumped it. Hopefully, it sank deep into the mud and no one will ever find it down there."

Aldreya smiled "I'm glad you got rid of it. I was worried about you, Vorden. You have not seemed yourself, lately."

He shook his head in amusement. "Of course you were worried, Aldreya. You always worry about silly things, just like Lannon. But it's taken care of. The well swallowed it up...forever. It took a lot of strength to part with it, but I did it. Now I think everything's going to be okay."

The Squires glanced uncertainly at each other. Something about Vorden's expression seemed haunted and afraid for just an instant.

Then Vorden smiled, looking even more like his usual self. He smoothed his hair and adjusted his cloak. "Anyway, it's all done with. Believe me."

The Squires smiled back, and did believe.

***

Two days later, Lannon and his friends, including Jerret Dragonsbane, were summoned to the Temple to honor Caldrek. The smell of spring was in the air, and the snows were melting swiftly, as Taris came and led them to their destination. They were the only Squires called to attend--the rest of the people present were Knights. Taris explained that traditionally Squires were not allowed to participate in honoring ceremonies for Knights, but Cordus gave them special permission this time due to their recent heroics and because Caldrek had died protecting them. Lannon got up the nerve to question Taris, but the Tower Master refused to speak of anything concerning their war against the Goblins and the Blood Legion, saying that it would all be revealed at a feast that would take place a few days later.

Cordus, Furlus, and Taris were at the Temple, along with the rest of the High Council--save for Moten Goblinsbane. The broken lid of the altar had been replaced, and Caldrek's body lay atop it, bearing armor and sword. Cordus stood before the altar, and spoke to the crowd, telling of Caldrek's heroic deeds. Several others spoke as well, and by the time everyone was finished, Lannon and his friends were in awe of Caldrek and knew a great Knight had passed from the world. Caldrek was promoted to Green, with a unanimous vote from the High Council, and a sash bearing that Color was laid across his body.

Then the final ceremony began, in which Cordus took a bottle of white fluid and poured it over Caldrek's body. For a moment, nothing seemed to happen, but then the torches in the Temple all suddenly burned with white fire. A gasp of amazement arose from the Knights, and they bowed their heads as one.

Confused, the Squires did the same.

The torches changed back to their normal color, and Cordus once again stood before the altar and spoke. "Behold!" he cried. "The Divine Essence has called upon Caldrek and blessed him, in an act not seen in more than a hundred years! His body shall be preserved for time untold for others to look upon."

Upon the altar, Caldrek's body had become encased in crystal.

***

For the next three days, almost all activity in Dremlock ceased, and people stayed indoors. This was a further gesture to honor Caldrek--along with all the other Knights who had died fighting for Dremlock.

On the fourth night, most of Dremlock was called to a huge feast in the Great Hall. It had been a warm day, with a light spring rain falling, and everyone seemed in good spirits as they gathered at tables. Though its warmth was hardly needed on this night, the huge fireplace was ablaze. Cordus Landsaver, dressed in his silver cloak, alone spoke at this gathering, before the food was served and the great celebration began.

"I have things to inform you of, Squires," the Lord Knight said. "I know that by now all of you are wondering just what is taking place in our war against the Goblins. I also know that all of you must have learned through rumor much of what we once sought to keep secret. But now the truth shall be known, so that afterwards, you may all focus on your training and put everything else out of your minds.

"First of all, the city of Kalamede was successfully defended by our Knights, and the Goblins driven deep into the Bloodlands."

Cheers erupted among the crowd, and Cordus smiled. "Secondly," he continued,
 
"the evil below Dremlock has fled deep into the mines, and new doors of Glaetherin have been forged to replace the old ones. These doors bear more complicated wheel locks that require two wheel masters to solve, so Dremlock should be well protected from below. Also, we have taken other means, which I shall not mention, to protect our kingdom from any threat that might exist beneath us.

"The rumors that Tenneth Bard is alive," said Cordus, "or
was
alive, have turned out to be completely false. The Blood Legion was led by a sorcerer named Arnin, who was not even pretending to be Tenneth Bard, as a member of the Blood Legion informed us. As far as we can tell, Arnin had no connection to that long-dead Black Knight whatsoever. Arnin was slain some time ago in the mines. While it is true that all we could find was a pool of blood where his corpse once lay, the signs indicated he was dragged off by a Cave Troll and undoubtedly devoured. We certainly have nothing more to fear from him.

"And I have one more thing to add, before we begin a special promotion ceremony. Moten Goblinsbane is no longer on the High Council, and he will not be returning. Shennen Silverarrow has been promoted to Green and will replace him." Cordus motioned to Shennen, who stood up and bowed. The Birlote now wore a green cloak rather than a blue one. "And I believe," Cordus added, "Shennen will bring much honor to the High Council.

"Now, before we eat, I want Lannon Sunshield, Aldreya Silverhawk, Timlin Woodmaster, Vorden Flameblade, and Jerret Dragonsbane to come forward and stand before me." The Lord Knight spoke sternly, and the Squires hurried over to him, their hearts pounding anxiously.

"I have called you up here, Squires," said Cordus, "to commend you for your bravery in the mines. You did Dremlock a great service, and now you will be appropriately rewarded." Cordus smiled and winked at them. "Your sashes are looking rather dirty, Squires. Why don't you give them to me?"

Confused, the Squires removed their sashes and handed them to Cordus, while the other Squires grinned and whispered amongst themselves. The younger ones looked baffled, while the older ones exchanged knowing looks. The Lord Knight carried the sashes to the fireplace and, one by one, tossed them into the flames, while Lannon and his friends glanced at each other in uncertainty. Was the Lord Knight being sarcastic? Were they actually here to be punished rather than praised?