Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin (16 page)

Trenton turned and glanced at the Squires, a nervous glint in his eyes. The Squires felt the same fear the Investigator was feeling as they glanced at the broken coffins. Olrog skulls seemed to gaze at them with empty eye sockets. Trenton read aloud an inscription on a stone pillar:

The Gates of the Mountain

Baltan's Way

The Way of Warriors

The Restless Dead

The Second Temple

"The Second Temple," Trenton repeated. "There are three temples dedicated to the Divine Essence at Dremlock. The Sacred Temple, the Temple of Oracles, and the Temple of Radiance. The Temple of Oracles was abandoned long ago thanks to excessive Goblin attacks and the fact that Dremlock stopped using oracles due to unreliable predictions."

"What does this mean?" Lannon asked.

"Obviously," said Trenton, "we stand at the gates of a temple that was abandoned to the Goblins long ago, a temple that stands at an exit tunnel from the mountains. I have no idea what to expect if we continue on. We might do better to go back and confront that Ogre. It's almost as if the Ogre wanted us to come this way, to send us into some foul snare."

"I agree," said Jerret, "let's go back. I can't keep wandering around. I need to get to the Hall of Healing."

"We can deal with the Ogre," said Aldreya. "Right, Lannon?"

"I don't know," said Lannon. "The Eye of Divinity is very weak right now. In fact, I'm not even using it." That was a half-truth, since it was actually his strange fear that was preventing him from summoning it.

"I too am quite weak," said Trenton. "Drained and weary. I think we'll have to continue on and take our chances. We could potentially escape the mountain through the temple, and from there it would be an easy journey to Dremlock."

They proceeded along the tunnel, which widened into a large cavern. Tall pillars created a path that led them to the entrance of the Temple of Oracles. The torchlight revealed a half-dome building carved from the stone of the mountain, with a sculpture of a wolf's mouth forming the entrance. The temple was very intimidating, almost gloomy or evil in appearance--vastly different from the Sacred Temple that stood above ground.

"Well, in we go," mumbled Trenton, stepping into the wolf's mouth with the others following reluctantly.

The temple's stone door stood open wide. They slowly and cautiously made their way through the interior, passing between iron benches toward the altar. A statue of a White Knight--an Olrog healer in a long robe and holding a thick book--was suddenly revealed in the torchlight, so lifelike it startled the Squires. The White Knight's eyes seemed to regard them sternly, making them feel like intruders.

"The door is probably beyond the altar," Trenton whispered. "It should take us into a long tunnel that will lead into open air."

But as the torchlight fell upon the altar, the companions gasped in shock. Standing before the flat, rectangular stone was Vorden. The former Squire seemed at ease, his arms folded across his chest, with the large gauntlet reflecting the torch flames. His eyes gleamed yellow. "Welcome, Lannon," he said," his gaze fixed on the Squire. "I've been waiting for you."

"Vorden!" Jerret gasped. "What are you doing down here?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Jerret?" said Vorden. "I said I was waiting for Lannon. Well, and finishing up a little business."

"What do you want with me?" said Lannon, struggling fiercely to summon the Eye. But his fear and weakened will would not allow it.

"I just wanted to give you a stronger warning," said Vorden, "than what Jerret could deliver. Abandon your quest for Knighthood, Lannon. I don't want to have to kill you. If you ignore me, you will die by my Hand."

"You will surrender immediately, Vorden," said Trenton, though he looked uncertain, and his hand trembled on his sword hilt.

Vorden sneered at the Investigator. "Even a Green Knight is no match for me. Don't even try it, Trenton. I'll crush you with ease."

"Vorden, you are corrupted by evil!" said Aldreya. "Let us help you. We can remove the gauntlet and free your soul."

"Silence, Birlote!" said Vorden. "I do not speak to your kind!"

Lannon sighed wearily. "Vorden, if you don't surrender and let us help you, Taris may die. Are you going to walk away and let that happen?"

Vorden seemed to hesitate for a moment. Then he scowled. "I have no love for Birlotes. Not even Taris. I don't care if he dies."

"Then you
are
a puppet," said Lannon.

"If you won't surrender," said Trenton, "then die!" With that, he drew his sword and it burst into blue flames. He leapt at Vorden, swinging for his head. It was a fantastic leap that carried Trenton right over the altar, and he swung his sword so swiftly it seemed that Vorden stood no chance of defending against it.

 
But Vorden deflected the sword with his gauntlet and seized Trenton's throat with his other hand, lifting the Investigator into the air. "Good effort," Vorden muttered, "but you're too weak to defeat me. I could defeat the entire High Council in battle--maybe even an entire legion of Divine Knights if it came to that. I should kill you for attacking me."

"Vile wretch!" Trenton croaked, struggling to break Vorden's grasp. "You...will...end up..."

Vorden hurled Trenton to the floor with such force that the Investigator went still, blood pooling around his head.

"You've killed him!" Lannon cried. He lifted Trenton's torch and knelt by the Investigator. Trenton was breathing shallowly.

Vorden shrugged. "He'll likely survive. He's a Green Knight and can take a beating. But it makes no difference to me either way. He attacked me first."

"I've had enough of this, Vorden," said Lannon, standing up. "I won't play your games, whatever they are."

Vorden nodded. "No games, my friend. Just a very serious warning. Leave Dremlock now. With your skills, you could have a good life in a city somewhere. You could be a rich man. I'm practically begging you, Lannon. You are my best friend and I'm going to great lengths to save you."

For an instant, Lannon considered Vorden's words. Vorden was right in that Lannon probably could live comfortably thanks to the power of the Eye, but Lannon realized he would never find peace if he fled Dremlock. "I can't do it, Vorden. I came here to be a Divine Knight, and I swore an oath to defend Dremlock."

Vorden sighed. "I'm not alone in this temple. If you had use of the Eye, which I know you do not, you would sense that my master stands nearby in the shadows. He may decide to kill all of you for your stubbornness. In fact, that would be a logical decision on his part. So again I beg you to agree to leave Dremlock forever."

Lannon waved the torch around but could see no one else. "How did you know...?"

"That you can't summon the Eye?" said Vorden. He smiled. "Because my master is whispering in your mind, invoking the fear that drains your will. He has been draining your will for months, preparing the trap you now find yourself in. You would be dead already, except that I have stayed his hand to make this appeal to you. This is a life or death decision."

Lannon glanced at Trenton, wondering if he would soon join the Investigator in a pool of blood. He considered lying to Vorden, but he somehow knew Vorden would see through him. "Nothing will change, Vorden. I will remain a Squire and fight against Tharnin and the Blood Legion. But I'm asking that you spare our lives out of friendship."

Vorden looked troubled and hesitant.

A dark figure stepped from the shadows and into the torchlight--a figure that was a mass of shifting shadows. Violet eyes glared at Lannon and froze his soul.

"Tenneth Bard!" Lannon whispered.

The dark figure pointed a finger at Lannon that vaguely resembled a talon. "You have sealed your fate, Squire."

"Master," Vorden said to the mass of shifting shadows, "I ask that you give Lannon time to reconsider."

"He has been given enough time," came the hissing response. "His time has run out. He has done enough damage to my plans."

"Then leave me to the task," said Vorden. "I have agreed to serve you in all ways and never betray you. Do that much for me."

The violet eyes flashed in rage. "And then you will spare them, of course. And then they will come north and we will be forced to deal with them in battle, when they are stronger. Tell me this isn't your plan?"

Vorden bowed his head. "I won't lie to you, Master."

"I will grant you your favor," said the dark figure. "As a test. If you are truly loyal to me and worthy of Knighthood in the Blood Legion, you will kill them now. But if you fail, and jeopardize everything I have worked for, I may have to reconsider your worth. Choose carefully, Vorden."

With that, the mass of shifting shadows vanished into the darkness, leaving Vorden alone at the altar.

"You won't kill us," said Lannon. "I know it." Inside, though, he wasn't so sure. Under the command of the demon-infested gauntlet, Vorden might be capable of anything.

"I have to kill you," said Vorden, "or my master will not respect me. He has just taken a huge gamble, knowing that if I can summon the strength to execute my closest friends, I will be his loyal servant forever."

"But you won't do it," said Lannon. Somehow, he was certain Vorden would spare their lives.

Vorden leapt over the altar and seized Lannon's throat with the gauntlet. Lannon immediately struggled to breathe. "I'm sorry, my friend. But my master has commanded me to do a task, and I cannot refuse. We are the Knights of the New Order, and unlike the weaklings of Dremlock, we are required to show no pity and give no quarter."

Lannon gazed into Vorden's yellow eyes without flinching. Aldreya hurled green fire at Vorden from her dagger, but it deflected away harmlessly. Vorden stayed focused on Lannon and ignored the Birlote sorceress.

"You can't do it," Lannon whispered. "Not yet." Lannon was terrified, but his confidence that Vorden would spare him never wavered. He focused on overcoming his fear, and he felt sudden anger at Tenneth Bard for invading his mind with his evil whispers. At last, Lannon drove the fear out of his heart and summoned the Eye of Divinity. As the Eye emerged, it felt stronger in some way Lannon couldn't explain. Still, he waited for Vorden to decide.

"Not yet," Vorden echoed. He released Lannon and stepped back. "You know me well, Lannon. Yes, I will spare you this time and disappoint my master. I think perhaps he knew I would. I wanted to prove him wrong, but he is never wrong. Now I will be punished."

"Thank you, my friend," said Lannon.

"Yes, you may still refer to me as a friend," said Vorden. "But this is the last time we shall meet as friends, if you continue to stay on the path to Knighthood. Don't come north, Lannon. You will find a new man waiting in the mountains--a Black Knight who will crush you without remorse."

Lannon said nothing. He knew Vorden spoke the truth.

"I have failed my master," said Vorden. "Now I must go and learn what my punishment will be. I am certain my master will require that I eventually kill you in order to redeem myself. This is somehow all part of his plan."

"A twisted, evil plan," said Lannon. "A plan to destroy Dremlock!"

Vorden grinned. "Indeed. My master is too wise for the Divine Knights, and his ways will remain a mystery to them. There is no doubt that Dremlock is nearing an end at last. And I am grateful to be part of it."

Lannon shuddered, realizing how far gone Vorden was already. The Hand of Tharnin had stolen his best friend and was turning him into a monster. The creature of shifting shadows that Lannon believed was Tenneth Bard was somehow draining the life and will from Dremlock Kingdom as easily as he'd drained Lannon of his use of the Eye. And Vorden now seemed to be his most prized puppet.

"Who is your master?" said Lannon. "Is he really Tenneth Bard?"

"Does it matter who he is?" said Vorden. "And you already know the truth. You have looked into his eyes and glimpsed his soul."

"So I was right all along," said Lannon.

 
Vorden pointed a metal finger at Lannon. "Don't come north. That goes for you as well, Jerret. That is my last warning. Goodbye, my friends."

"Goodbye, Vorden," Jerret whispered, but his eyes were cold and his hand was locked around his sword hilt.

Lannon didn't respond, but simply watched as Vorden turned and moved off into the shadows. Vorden's warning had fallen on deaf ears. Lannon had every intention of going where he needed to go and saving his friend from the grasp of the Deep Shadow. He never doubted it for an instant.

Moments later, Trenton groaned and sat up, his eyes glazed. "I was dreaming," he said, "of the fall of Dremlock. The Sacred Altar was bathed in wolf's blood. The...the shadow of the wolf stalks our kingdom beneath a frosty moon...a bleak future. I have seen the end of it all beneath the bitter moon, death in the tower..."

"Are you okay?" Lannon asked.

Trenton rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "What's that, Squire? Oh, I guess I was still dreaming..." He jumped up, his eyes wide. He clutched his head and winced. "What a rotten headache! Did Vorden escape?"

"Escape?" said Jerret, looking confused. "No, he let us live and walked away."

***

In the chamber of the Mother Trees, the three Dark Knights had managed to hack their way into the cavern. The Grey Dwarves had refused to give up, and at last their stubbornness had paid off as the roots parted before them. Their rune-covered, heavy armor and bushy beards were splattered with the foul black blood, and their eyes blazed with fury. Their flaming axes rose and fell to their battle cries, as the trees shrank back. Even the wise and ancient Dark Mothers seemed unprepared for the berserk onslaught of these Olrogs. The trees relied on each other for strength, their sorcery channeled with the blood that ran through the roots, and with each blow from a burning axe, their defenses weakened.

 
The white wolves held back, however, since their teeth were ineffective against the trees. They paced around in the narrow tunnel, growling--perhaps wondering what had become of their master Trenton.