Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin (10 page)

Feeling embarrassed for having refused the Knights' offers to help, Lannon grabbed the door handle with his hands, pulling with all his might. The door wouldn't budge. He channeled the Eye into his muscles in an effort to generate the power necessary for the task. It was a strange way to use the Eye, but slowly the door opened, and Lannon stepped inside.

Dremlock Hall was filled with Goblins--mostly Jackals, but there were two Goblin Lords and an Ogre as well. Chairs and tables were overturned, and Goblins were devouring meat and bread. The Ogre was gnawing on a side of raw beef, his huge teeth crunching through bone. His huge head, with black eyes, lifted when Lannon walked into the room. He stood up and started toward the Squire, the claws from his long, crooked arms dragging on the stone floor.

But the Goblin Lords stepped in front of the Ogre--more Priests of Tharnin carrying dark staffs. They regarded Lannon with what appeared to be amused looks. Lannon was sickened by the sights in Dremlock Hall. The Goblins had gotten into everything, with no regard for the priceless treasures of the North Tower. Ancient paintings of famous Knights had been torn from the walls and damaged. The Sacred Water of Dremlock--water blessed by the Divine Essence and stored in crystal flasks for rituals--had been pulled from shelves on the walls and scattered across the floor. One of the Jackals was lapping some of it up with his long tongue.

The Goblin Lords pointed at the stairs that led up through the tower. "Go to the fifth floor," one of them hissed. "Garrin waits for you there, in his chamber. He will provide you with further instructions."

Lannon started up the stairs, and the priests followed. Lannon probed behind him with the Eye of Divinity, making sure they didn't attack. But he sensed no such intent. They simply plodded along in their soft leather boots up the stone steps, until the trio reached the fifth floor and the Lord Knight's chamber, the entrance to which was a large oaken door at the end of a hall.

Lannon felt a surge of anger that Garrin had decided to make Cordus Landsaver's chamber his own, and it dulled his fear a bit. He probed the door for traps, and finding none, entered the room

Garrin sat on a large bed with a wooden frame carved with Birlote runes. He was smoking a pipe. A flask of wine sat on a stand next to him. The large bedchamber was bathed in lantern light, revealing two statues of Knights that stood on either side of a large, shuttered window, and more paintings.

"Close the door, Lannon," Garrin said. "You have nothing to fear. I'm alone in here and just want to talk to you and offer you some wine."

Lannon did as instructed. Then he walked to the bed and stood before his former master. "Why have you done this, Garrin?"

Garrin smiled and blew out some pipe smoke. "Done what? Claimed this tower as my own? Enslaved the useless High Council? I haven't done anything wrong. The North Tower finally has a
real
master within it--a powerful and wise master, unlike that useless drunken oaf Cordus. Oh, did you know he has a problem with wine? Yes, he drinks it every day, which is a violation of the Sacred Laws' demand for moderation. By evening he has usually lost his wits. It's an embarrassment to the High Council, yet they do nothing about it. And he's seeing a lady friend who lives farther down the mountain. Your great hero Cordus is one who has no regard for the so-called Sacred Laws. And here you thought he was so perfect."

Lannon's anger boiled over at Garrin's words. "I don't believe you. Why should I trust the words of someone possessed by the Deep Shadow?" But Lannon remembered that Cordus often had bloodshot eyes in the evening and that he frequently journeyed down the mountain on mysterious errands. Considering the immense pressure the Lord Knight was under, Lannon could forgive him for a few lapses in judgment. But Garrin's words couldn't help but tarnish Cordus' image in Lannon's mind.

"But who cares what that fool does?" said Garrin. "He is the worst Lord Knight Dremlock has ever had. I would have killed him already, except I need him alive to keep the Knights--those puppets gathered around my tower--at bay. And I am certainly
not
possessed by the Deep Shadow. I have chosen to serve Tharnin willingly. Why? Because Tharnin offers me the promise of wealth and power far beyond what this pitiful kingdom can offer. I would never have been made the Lord Knight here, because my color is Blue, and Blue means
assassinations.
Blue Knights receive a type of scorn that other colors do not suffer. It's unfair. But I've always been a man driven by power. I simply hid it well. The Knights thought they had me right where they wanted me, wandering around that wretched East Tower training fools like you in the arts of stealth and murder, wasting my life. But, as you can see, that was never my destiny. My skills are tremendously useful to Tharnin."

"I still think you're possessed," said Lannon. "You've changed a lot since I first met you. I respected you a great deal once."

"You just want to believe that," said Garrin. "But the truth is, I haven't changed one bit other than to grow more determined to rise above my challenges. I never actually liked you, Lannon. In fact, I hated your miserable hide from the first day I met you. I did my best to sabotage your training, which is why the other Squires have advanced beyond you. Unfortunately, I couldn't make you fail completely. Not with other trainers on hand--and that wretched power you possess."

Garrin's words hurt Lannon deeply, but he didn't let it show. "It doesn't matter anyway. You wanted to see me, so here I am. I defeated the demon man and he is a prisoner. So if you're relying on him, don't bother."

"I don't need him," said Garrin. "He is in league with the Blood Legion--a puppet of theirs. I serve Tharnin directly, under the command of a great master. You know him as Tenneth Bard. I command an army of Goblins!"

"What do you want from me?" Lannon asked. "And if you really serve Tenneth Bard, then what does
he
want from me?"

Garrin laid his pipe aside and sipped some wine. "I won't speak for my master. But as for what I want--perhaps I just want you to watch while my Jackals tear apart your precious Lord Knight. We've got him in a cell in Dremlock Dungeon. Perhaps I want to reason with you, to persuade you to join with us and use your power for a noble cause."

Lannon shuddered. "Never."

Garrin hurled the wine flask against a painting of Kuran Darkender. The flask shattered, and red wine ran down like blood from the greatest Knight who had ever lived. "You think you're so noble, Lannon Sunshield. It disgusts me. You don't realize how the world has changed, how good and evil are not so easily defined anymore. Your silly notion of a shining kingdom filled with heroic Knights is nothing but an illusion. Those types of heroes do not exist."

"What do you want from me?" Lannon repeated.

"You were trained to cut throats and stab backs," Garrin went on. "Trained for assassin missions. How does that make you feel? How would it feel to creep up on a young warrior from the Blood Legion--a young man like you with concerned parents waiting for news of his welfare--and run your blade across his neck?"

Lannon shook his head. "I won't do that."

"Then you'll never be a Knight!" shouted Garrin. He glared at Lannon, and then smiled. "To be a Knight, you must
enjoy
killing. I know I did. I've killed many Goblins...and many men. And I enjoyed killing the men more than the Goblins. Men beg to be spared. Goblins do not."

"Either tell me why you've brought me here," said Lannon, "or I'm leaving. I won't stand here and listen to this."

Garrin hurled a book against the wall, knocking a painting down. "You'll do whatever I tell you, or Cordus Landsaver will die in agony. I have only to give a shout and the cruel deed will be done. Is that understood?"

Lannon looked around again. There was no one else in the room. He focused his gaze on Garrin, probing him with the Eye of Divinity.

Garrin's eyes widened. "You wretch of a Squire! You hope to use your vile power on me, because we're alone? I trained you! I shared great secrets with you!" He leapt off the bed and drew his long, curved dagger--his Flayer. "I brought you here so we could talk peacefully--to ask if you would surrender yourself to Tharnin so your precious Lord Knight can be spared. Yet now I see a shadow of menace in your gaze, as if you dare to...to threaten me."

Lannon stepped toward Garrin. "You're not going to kill Master Cordus, or anyone else for that matter. You're the one who'd better surrender." His legs were weak with fear, but he gazed at Garrin sternly. It was clear that Garrin had underestimated Lannon's maturity level and confidence, that he'd never expected Lannon to turn the Eye of Divinity against him.

Garrin's hand trembled as he held the Flayer. "And what if I don't surrender? Will you murder me where I stand?"

"No, but I'll take you prisoner," Lannon said, and he seized Garrin with the Eye, hoping to freeze him motionless. He caught Garrin off guard and pinned his arms to his sides.

Garrin's face burned crimson with fury. His eyes shone with a yellow glint as he fought to break Lannon's hold. Slowly, his hand came up, the curved dagger gleaming in the lantern light.

Lannon realized that he lacked the strength to stop Garrin from stabbing him. Either Garrin possessed some fanatical strength of will or Lannon was still weak from his duel with the demon man. Regardless, the dagger was charged with powerful dark sorcery, a spiteful energy that desired only to shred Lannon's flesh. In moments, it would strike Lannon's heart and the battle would be over.

Reacting on instinct, Lannon unleashed the full power of the Eye upon Garrin, shoving him backwards with vicious force. Garrin struck the wooden window shutters and smashed them into splinters, his scream echoing into the night air. And then he was gone from the fifth-floor window.

Drastically weakened, Lannon collapsed to the floor and lay struggling to catch his breath. Moments later, the sounds of shouts, howls, and clanking weapons came from below. The Divine Knights had chosen to invade.

Lacking the strength for battle, Lannon simply lay there and listened, praying the Knights would dispatch their foes swiftly. Regardless, his mind was haunted by a grim realization.

"I have killed my master," he whispered, groaning.

The battle was over quickly. The Knights dispatched the Goblins and freed the High Council with no further loss of life. Some of the Goblins fled below the keep into the mines, but a company of Knights was waiting to put an end to their escape. The Goblins had tried to execute the High Council members, but somehow Cordus Landsaver had broken free of his ropes and slain the would-be executioners. He'd suffered a deep claw wound to the cheek and a broken wrist, but otherwise was unharmed and in good spirits.

That the Goblins had underestimated Cordus was not a surprise, for the Lord Knight of Dremlock possessed many deeply hidden secrets that made him extremely dangerous and difficult to imprison. In his arrogance, Garrin had believed he knew all of Cordus' secrets and that his plan was flawless.

But now Garrin was dead, his broken body sprawled in a bed of flowers beneath the window from which he'd been flung. In the days that followed, Garrin was stripped of his Knighthood yet still given a burial in Dremlock Cemetery in an area reserved from those who had fallen to the charms of the Deep Shadow. The Knights who had died in the tunnels below the North Tower--as well as Zannin Firespear--were given a grand funeral followed by a huge feast. The damaged treasures of the North Tower were repaired, and security was tightened in the mines.

Lannon was deeply troubled over what he'd done, even though it had been an act of self defense. In spite of receiving a new ribbon for his sash and lectures from some of the Knights on how he should be proud, he felt terrible inside. Even Taris, with his deep wisdom, couldn't console Lannon. And Jace--who remained Lannon's closest companion--seemed to dismiss the incident as if it were not worth mentioning, whenever Lannon brought it up.

An equally troubling situation arose when Timlin Woodmaster once again earned the wrath of the Knights--this time for allegedly stealing an ancient, jeweled dagger from the North Tower. The dagger had been torn from a display case by a Goblin, and Timlin had been seen removing it from the Goblin's corpse and concealing it in his tunic. In spite of appearing deeply contrite and apologetic, Timlin had pushed Taris too far. The Tower Master ordered Timlin imprisoned in Dremlock Dungeon until his fate was decided by the High Council. A meeting was scheduled where evidence would be heard concerning Timlin and where a plan concerning the captured demon man would be discussed.

Lannon, Vorden, Jerret, and Aldreya were granted permission by Taris to visit Timlin in the prison below the North Tower. It was a somber affair in the musty, shadowy hall that lay underground. The Dark Knights of Dremlock--Grey Dwarves, mostly--who guarded the mines paced around with the clanking of armor and weapons, their faces grim. The guards moved away from the cell at Lannon's request to give them some privacy.

The four Squires entered Timlin's cell and sat down on a bench. Lannon looked at Timlin and then lowered his gaze. The small Squire was curled up on a dirty cot, his hands wrapped around his bony knees. He looked thoroughly miserable. Lannon couldn't help but pity him.

"You want to know why I did it, right?" said Timlin, a hint of mockery in his voice. "Why would little Timlin throw away his chance to be a Knight?"

"Of course we want to know," said Vorden, his face furrowed in concern and anger. "We're friends. We've trained and fought together."

"What you did was dishonorable!" said Aldreya, leaning against the stone wall and looking almost dazed. "I still cannot believe it."

"You shouldn't be surprised," said Timlin. "I'm not honorable at all. I'm a thief, and I should never have come to Dremlock because I can't control myself."

"Timlin, why would you do it?" said Lannon. "Over a silly dagger? Did you think you could sell it somewhere?"

"I didn't think
anything
," said Timlin, his eyes narrowing. "I just saw it and wanted it, so I took it. I have no idea how I was caught. There was absolutely no one watching me."

"Taris said something about a spy in the North Tower," said Vorden. "It doesn't matter, Timlin. A Knight doesn't steal!"

"I'm not a Knight," said Timlin.

"And you'll never be one now," said Aldreya. "They're going to banish you from Dremlock. I'm certain of it."

"Well, I'm not so certain," said Vorden. He stood up and paced. "Lannon is in control here. The Knights do whatever he tells them."

Lannon shook his head. "I can't do this anymore. You chose your fate, Timlin. The High Council will have the final say." In spite of his pity for Timlin, he was weary of Timlin's total disregard for Dremlock's Sacred Laws.

Timlin sat up, sneering. "Fine words coming from someone who killed Master Garrin! I don't think I can ever forgive you for that!"

Lannon looked away, stung deeply by Timlin's words.

"That's not fair, Timlin," said Vorden. "Lannon had no choice, and he feels terrible about it. I know you loved Garrin like a father and he really seemed to like you as well. But he betrayed everyone, and he got what he deserved. Like it or not, that's the way it is."

Jerret Dragonsbane stood up and leaned against the cell bars, his hands in the pockets of his tunic. His long blond hair hung partially in his eyes. "Timlin, you just keep making trouble. Taris has gone out of his way for you."

"Who cares what you think, Jerret?" said Timlin. "I never liked you."

Jerret smiled. "I don't care what you think, either. And since you've stated your true feelings, then I'll state mine. You're nothing but trouble--to yourself, everyone around you, and this entire kingdom."

Aldreya bowed her head. "Sadly, Jerret speaks true, Timlin."

"If you all hate me," said Timlin, "then why did you come down here? All my life people have hated me, and I've got the scars to prove it. I've never had any real friends and I don't need any now."

His face turning crimson with anger, Vorden seized Timlin's tunic. Vorden was huge compared to the little Squire, muscles rippling down his arms. Timlin shrank back. "Don't you dare say I'm not your friend! I'm the best friend you could ever have, Timlin!"

Timlin nodded, looking startled. "Fine, you're my friend. And Lannon is my friend. But these other two are not. Especially Jerret."

The color fading from his face, Vorden released Timlin. "We're all your friends, even Jerret. And we're going to help save your chance at Knighthood. There is simply no way I'm going to give up on you."

Lannon sighed. "And how will we do that, Vorden? Timlin was seen stealing a sacred dagger, which he doesn't deny."

"It's a very serious situation," said Vorden, smoothing back his neatly trimmed black hair and adjusting his black tunic. "Very serious. But we are not ordinary Squires. Aldreya is Taris' most prized pupil and a member of some Birlote royal house. I am--with no attempt to be vain in saying this--the most talented Squire at Dremlock. And you, Lannon, are the most valuable of anyone at Dremlock. We can get this done and give Timlin one more chance."

For an instant, Timlin's eyes lit up with gratitude. Then he slumped down on the cot and bowed his head. "It won't happen. I'm finished."

"I do regard myself as your friend, Timlin," said Aldreya. "I also respect your amazing skills with the bow. You shoot as well as the best of the Birlotes. I want to help you. But you must promise that you will never break the Sacred Laws again for any reason."

"I can't promise that," said Timlin. "I already told you that I can't control myself. My life is not very enjoyable. The nightmares never let me get a peaceful sleep. And I always feel like I want to punish myself."

"Timlin, what happened to you as a child?" Aldreya said softly.

Timlin's body trembled. He hunkered down further. "I don't know. Different things. Wretched things. I keep trying to forget and move on, but I know I won't let myself. It's like I'm trying to get thrown out of Dremlock."

Lannon rubbed his temples in frustration. "That's what I can't understand. You have a bright future here. You have way more talent than I do. You could do many great deeds and retire as a wealthy Knight. Why can't you just relax and let things happen, instead of ruining everything?"

"I don't know," said Timlin. "It doesn't make any sense. I guess I'm stupid or evil. What else is there to say?"

"You're neither of those things," said Vorden. "You're still just finding your way. In time, you'll learn to behave like a Knight."

"I doubt it," said Timlin. "I have something wrong with my thinking. Nobody understands that or listens to me. The Knights only understand acting like this or acting like that. And I know they speak the truth, in a way. Yet...I
don't
know. Something just ruins everything I try to do."

"You think about it too much," said Vorden. "I had a rough childhood, but I don't let it bother me. I just do what I need to do."

"That doesn't work for me," said Timlin. "I always do something stupid, no matter how hard I try to avoid it."

"You need to live like a Knight every day," said Aldreya. "Then many good things will come your way."

"What do you know, Aldreya?" said Timlin. "You grew up in some shining Birlote kingdom and had a great life. It's easy for you to live like you were taught. For me, though..." He turned away and wiped his eyes. "I can never explain it, so why try? I want to talk about what happened, but..."

"You should
never
talk about it," said Vorden, patting him on the shoulder. "You should just block it from your mind and move on."

"I agree," said Aldreya. "Whatever haunts your mind is best forgotten, Timlin. Just let it go and concentrate on the present."

"Bad idea," said Jerret, sitting down on the bench.

Vorden glared at Jerret. "Why is that a bad idea?"

Jerret shrugged. "It just seems like a bad idea for him to forget his past, or he'll be doomed to repeat it or something. I don't know. Maybe I'm not making sense. What do you think, Lannon?"

"I don't know," said Lannon, being truthful. "But I do know that Timlin has a knack for getting in trouble and I just don't see that changing."

"Just go on and forget about me," said Timlin. "All of you."

"I told you that's not going to happen," said Vorden.

"So you can't promise to obey the Sacred Laws, Timlin?" said Lannon.

"I can't promise to obey them," said Timlin. "Sorry."

"Then I'm not going to try to help you," said Lannon. "Honestly, it's not worth it. You have to make your own fate, Timlin."

"It will be a
bad
fate," Timlin whispered.

Lannon rose, concerned by Timlin's tone and grim expression. "What does that mean?"

"You heard me." Timlin's eyes smoldered. "If you don't believe me, use your Eye of Divinity and look into my soul. See for yourself what's in there. Look deeper than before, deep into my past."

Lannon's eyes widened. "For what purpose?" He was afraid to look too deeply into Timlin's soul. He sensed something terrifying.

"To understand me," said Timlin. "Because I can never tell you, and no one ever listens anyway. If you're my friend, at least do that much. Then you will understand me. I want someone to know what happened. I
need
someone to know."

Lannon gazed at Timlin, considering Timlin's request. It seemed pointless and frightening. "I've seen the scars on your back. I know it must have been terrible. What does it matter if I know the details? "

"It matters," said Timlin. "I don't know why, except that it's like I'm in a prison of silence or something."

"This is foolish," said Vorden. "You're playing games again, Timlin. You just need to start acting like a Knight."

Aldreya just looked on with pity and uncertainty.

Jerret frowned and scratched his head. "If I had that Eye of Divinity power, I would do it. And I don't even like Timlin."

Lannon hesitated, seeing the intense, hopeful gleam in Timlin's eyes. Slowly, he reached out with the Eye and saw anguish and bitterness--a Squire in constant torment. But that was only the very surface. He probed a bit deeper and heavy gloom washed over him, merged with hopelessness and terror. And still Lannon felt that Timlin's secrets ran much deeper--into a place he feared to look.

Lannon broke contact and turned away. "I don't see the point, Timlin. If you have problems, we can work on them. We can..."

Lannon turned toward Timlin again--to find he'd curled up on the cot and was now facing the wall. And Timlin would not speak again during that encounter.

***

The meeting took place that evening in the North Tower and consisted of the same people as before--with the addition of Trenton Shadowbane, the Investigator of Dremlock, and the absence of the deceased Zannin Firespear. It was another cold spring night and the fireplace was raging. The faces of those gathered at the table were tense. Taris first addressed the condition of Furlus Goblincrusher, revealing that Furlus was recovering steadily after suffering a setback that had nearly taken his life--a vicious infection. But Furlus had managed to fight it off with his strong will and the healing arts of the White Knights, but the West Tower Master was still spending most of his time in bed.

The second issue to be addressed was Vorden's spider sword. Jace had been in possession of the blade for the past two days, and now he laid it on the table for everyone to see. "I have tested it thoroughly," Jace said, "and found that it's not cursed by Tharnin. Rather, this is a Knightly sword--though a very strange one. I couldn't find many references to it in the Dremlock records, but I did find some clues that seem to indicate it may have belonged to one of the Dark Watchmen. I'm still researching that, so I can't yet produce a name."

"It is clearly a very powerful blade," said Taris. "It struck a stout blow to the demon man." Taris' face was shockingly pale, and he seemed to be trembling slightly. The sickness from his facial wound was clearly growing more potent, yet still Taris sat up straight and with an aura of power and dignity. He gazed sternly at Vorden. "And had it failed to strike such an impressive blow, we might not have noticed it, since Vorden never saw fit to mention it."