Knights: Book 01 - The Eye of Divinity (9 page)

Just beyond the Stable, to the left of the road, stood Dremlock Cemetery, surrounded by a tall iron fence with a locked gate. Small stone crypts and weathered statues stood amongst the pines, leading back into the forest. Sunlight poured down from between the furry boughs onto the tombs, highlighting some in gold and leaving others in shadow--as if these sunlit tombs were somehow special. Goosebumps crept along Lannon's flesh.

"Lord Knights of the past are buried here," said Cartlan. He pointed to the largest crypt of all, which stood at off to one side and was nearly hidden by the pines. "That's Kuran Darkender's tomb--minus his body, of course, which was never found. I've always wanted to get a peek in that crypt."

"Can we go in there?" Lannon asked.

"This Cemetery is haunted," said Cartlan, ignoring his question. "I know all cemeteries are supposed to be haunted--but this one
really
is. There are Knightly spirits within that have not found rest. Don't ever come creeping around here at night, if you know what's good for you!"

"I won't," said Lannon, feeling another wave of goose bumps. "It looks closed, anyways." As he gazed into the cemetery, a strange image popped into his mind--that of a huge black hand swiping out at him from amid the tombs. He quickly turned his gaze elsewhere.

"The Cemetery is only open to the likes of us once per year," said Cartlan. "And then only in daylight. The caretaker alone goes in there the rest of the time. Yet Taris Warhawk has been known to venture in now and then, come to think of it. He’s into that sort of thing, I guess." And then he added in a whisper, "Goodness knows what he does out here, amongst all those corpses. I don't think you or I would want to know."

Lannon was tempted to defend Taris, but fought off the desire. It would just irritate Cartlan to think that Lannon knew the sorcerer better than he did, and since Cartlan was the Squire Master, Lannon had no desire to anger him.

Just beyond the Cemetery, the road split into three. They took the road farthest to their left. "We're going to the West Tower," Cartlan said.

"Why are the Towers in different places?" Lannon asked.

"This is Dremlock
Kingdom
," said Cartlan. "Not Dremlock
Castle
. And I'm not sure why it's broken up like that. I know the Towers were built on Olrog mines, so maybe the stability of the ground was taken into account. But there could be other reasons for them being separate. But I've heard they are linked by underground tunnels, which are only used in times of emergency."

"Will I get to see all of Dremlock?" said Lannon.

"You'll see more of the kingdom later," said Cartlan. "But for now, I'm taking you to the Squire's Quarters, where you'll stay until the feast begins. And truthfully, you'll probably never actually see
all
of Dremlock. There are places, I'm sure, that even Cordus Landsaver has never visited. I'd bet my life on it."

Now and then they passed small museums and monuments dedicated to various Knights and battles. Lannon wanted to stop and examine them, but Cartlan practically dragged him along, reminding him they were in a hurry.

At last they came to a clearing in the woods where the West Tower sat. Lannon drew in a deep breath at the sight of it. Made mostly of stone blocks taller than Lannon, the Tower was much larger than he had imagined it would be. It tapered up to a height even greater than the Knightwood trees at the clearing's edge. Many windows, doors, and balconies decorated its sides.

"Well, here it is," said Cartlan. "Quite a sight, huh?"

"Yes, it is," Lannon whispered, overwhelmed.

"The Training Grounds lie on the north side," said Cartlan. "That's where the Color Trials will take place."

Lannon studied the carefully cut grass, the small and colorful trees, and the stone walkways that made up the Tower courtyard. This keep was a thing of beauty the likes of which he had never dreamed of--all enclosed by the protective Knightwood trees that stood like quiet guardians at the clearing's edge.

"It's beautiful," he said, and then he realized that sounded less than manly. "I mean...it's amazing. I can't believe how big it is."

Cartlan nodded. "Just wait until we get inside."

"Where are all the people?" said Lannon, looking around. All he could see were two guards by the front door and one cloaked, hooded man trimming the little trees. "I always imagined Dremlock would be a busy place."

"It usually is," said Cartlan. "But today, with the Color Trials and all, a lot of people are at the Training Grounds. Also, many of our Knights are off fighting Goblins. And Dremlock only does business with the outside world two days a week. The rest of the time the gates of Darkender Tunnel are locked and no one is usually allowed in or out. Only kings, noblemen, or highly respected guests, if they've notified us in advance, can sometimes get in."

"Why is that?" asked Lannon

Cartlan stared at him with wide eyes. "Have you been living in a cave? We are practically at war, Lannon! Ever heard of Goblins? Ever heard of the Blood Legion?"

"Oh," said Lannon, blushing. "I guess I wasn't thinking."

"I guess not," said Cartlan. "To explain it better, these are dangerous times, and spies are everywhere. That's why we've been so closed off from the outside world lately. The Blood Legion has grown stronger and more active recently, and Goblins are getting smarter. The Knights have to keep an eye on everyone who comes through Darkender Tunnel and make sure they're not here on shady business. It takes a lot of work and manpower to weed out spies, you know."

The Tower's front door was twelve feet tall--a stone slab with an iron handle. Two muscular, bearded Knights stood on either side of it. Both wore red sashes over their thick armor. Their faces were stern and grim beneath their horned helms, and each Knight held a battle axe and had a large shield slung over his arm. As Lannon and Cartlan approached, the guards made no move and their faces did not change expression.

"Stern lot, aren't they?" whispered Cartlan. "I think they're pretty bored with their job, which makes them grumpy. But it's not as if they have a difficult task, if you think about it. They never have to face any real danger. All they have to do is stand there and look tough for a few hours each day."

Cartlan nodded to the guards. "Keld, Ramos. How's everything going today? I hope you're not having too much fun."

The Guards said nothing and slowly, grunting with effort, they pulled the door open. They stood sullen and silent as Lannon and Cartlan entered. The door was pushed shut behind them.

Lannon stared in silent wonder.

A huge hall stretched away before him, full of oaken tables and chairs resting upon a green-and-gold carpet. Life-sized paintings of Knights lined the walls. The only painting Lannon recognized was of Kuran Darkender, which hung above a stone fireplace at the opposite end of the hall. A door stood on each side of the fireplace--one labeled Kitchen and one labeled Armory Entrance. The right wall held a door marked Squires’ Quarters. Two of the tables in there were larger than the others and adorned with silver tablecloths bearing gold trim. A stack of thick, leather-bound books lay on these two special tables, as well as tobacco, pipes, and writing utensils. Two men and a Birlote woman, all cloaked in green, sat at the fancy tables, studying books and papers. They didn't glance at the newcomers. Two Squires wearing Orange sashes stood nearby.

Towering suits of armor lined the hall, and ridiculously large swords, shields, spears, and axes decorated the walls, hanging between the paintings. The weapons and armor--though obviously too big to be wielded by anyone but a giant--had been crafted with extraordinary care. They gleamed brightly in the light of the many Birlote torches that lit the chamber, exquisitely detailed runes and pictures engraved into them.

"The Armory Hall," said Cartlan.

Lannon could only nod in response.

"See those Green Knights?" Cartlan whispered, pinching Lannon to get his attention. "Let me give you some great advice--stay well clear of them at all times. They're second in power only to the Tower Masters. If you anger them, you'll be out on your ear. If you're lucky."

"What do you mean?" said Lannon.

"You know what's below here?" whispered Cartlan. "That happy little place called Dremlock Dungeons. Trust me, you don't want to visit there."

As they walked quickly towards the door marked Squires' Quarters, one of the Green Knights glanced up and caught Lannon's eye. He was a clean-shaven, silver-haired Knight whose age was hard to guess, though the rugged lines on his face indicated he was a bit on the elderly side. Lannon gulped, frozen for a moment in the Knight's stare. The Knight frowned at him, his eyes narrowing. He took a puff of his pipe.

"Come on!" whispered Cartlan, tugging Lannon along. "That's Trenton Shadowbane, the Investigator of Dremlock. You don't want to try staring him down!"

They passed beyond the door and climbed a staircase that led up to a hallway lined by six more doors. They entered one labeled New Squires. It turned out to be a round chamber filled with many beds and small nightstands, a very plain and boring room with bare oaken walls. Young men near Lannon's age occupied all but a few of the beds. The youths were busy chatting with each other, or playing card and dice games.

Cartlan led Lannon to an empty bed numbered forty-seven. "Your things are under here, minus that fancy sword. Taris said to let you know you could have the sword when you finish the Color Trials. When I see you again, don't expect any special favors."

Lannon ignored him and dragged his pack out from under the bed. He sat down on the hard mattress and looked around. He noticed that many of the lads were Norack (or pale skinned) like him--though there were several Birlotes and Olrogs amongst them. (The Olrog boys already had short beards.) A few of the youths bothered to glance his way, but the rest took no notice of him. His eyes passed over them quickly, and his heart began to pound anxiously. He began to long for the solitude of Knights Valley.

Hurriedly he pulled
The Truth about Goblins
from his pack and lay down to read. He opened to the middle and found himself staring, ironically enough, at a drawing of a Foul Brother--which, after the encounter at the North Gate--now seemed like a menacing creature rather than a sad, dumb one. He started reading, and soon became wrapped up in the book, unaware of the passage of time.

Suddenly he realized someone was trying to get his attention. "Hey, you there!" a voice called out. "Why don't you answer me? Get your nose out of that book for a second."

Startled, Lannon glanced up. A boy sat on a bed next to him. His hair was black and neat, his eyes were large and dark, and he wore black clothing. He was bigger than Lannon as many of the boys were, and solidly built.

"What's your name? I'm Vorden Flameblade."

Lannon introduced himself.

"Lannon is a weird name," said Vorden. "I've never heard of a
Lannon
before."

And Vorden isn't a weird name?
Lannon thought.

"I can't wait for the Color Trials to begin," said Vorden. "I know I'm going to be picked Brown, at least. Maybe even Red. What about you?"

Lannon shrugged. "I'm kind of worried I might not do so well. What types of colors are there? I already know about Orange."

"You could be picked Orange, Brown, White, Blue, Red, or Grey," said Vorden. "Orange is the bottom, of course, which means you've failed. Brown is where most of the talented Squires end up, and it lies just below Blue in rank, I think. I don't know much about Blue, and only rarely does anyone get picked for that. It's some kind of a secret, special class. Grey is for sorcerers--another rare class that's mostly for Birlotes. And then there's Red, which is what I'm hoping for. Red is second only to Green."

"Why not go for Green, then?" said Lannon.

"I can't," said Vorden. "You can only be Green if you've done great deeds and get promoted by a Lord Knight. Only High Council members are Green."

"What about White?" asked Lannon.

"It's kind of like Blue," said Vorden, "but not so mysterious. White is the Healing Class. White Knights seldom get to fight--they usually just heal people."

"How boring," said Lannon.

Vorden raised his eyebrows. "Sure, but somebody has to do it. Who else is going to care for the sick and wounded?"

Lannon nodded guiltily, thinking of his father, who desperately needed a White Knight to cure him. "I just hope
I
don't end up being White."

"You probably won't," said Vorden. "It's rare, and you don't seem compassionate enough for it. Of course, you don't look like a fighter, either. Truthfully, you kind of look like Orange material."