The Blood of Kings (Book 4)

by Robert E. Keller

  Dallsa looked away. "That's what my father says. But I don't know if that's the life for me. I might just want to get married and raise children. I would love to visit Dremlock--especially the tower libraries and the Sacred Temple. There is so much knowledge to be found there. I could spend weeks just seeing the historical sights and reading the books. But to live there year round and help the sick and wounded? I don't know if I have it in me, Lannon."

  Lannon nodded. He couldn't fault her for wanting a simple life. He fell silent, hunkered down beneath his cloak and wanting to doze. Dallsa seemed to sense his mood, for she lifted her book to read. He glanced at the book's title. It read: The Watchman's Dream.

  He couldn't help but smile, wondering what Dallsa would think if she knew she was sitting across from a Dark Watchman. He was glad she didn't know, because that would have opened the door to hours of conversation, and all Lannon wanted to do was sink into a pleasant slumber.

  ***

  During the journey to Rogue Haven, they encountered bandits three times. In the first two incidents, riders on horseback with cloth masks surrounded them and demanded payment. After searching the carriage and finding no money or expensive goods, they rode off. Fortunately, they hadn't bothered to search Lannon (who had concealed his sword beneath his cloak) or there would have been a fight. These bandits knew their business and seemed to be looking for something very specific, and when they failed to find it, they hurried off.

  The third group of rogues, however, was more thorough. These riders wore no masks, and their cruel-looking, scarred faces revealed a hardened bunch of cutthroats who would take anything they could find. They first demanded money, and when none was given, they insisted on taking the shopkeeper's horses and carriage (a demand which included anything in the carriage). One of them peered through the glass window at Dallsa, an ugly leer on his face. She drew the blinds and then sat close to Lannon, a frightened look in her eyes.

  "Now we're in trouble," she whispered. "How I regret coming on this trip! We knew there might be dangers, but nothing this extreme." Her body trembled. "Don't let them take me, Lannon. I would rather be dead."

  "Relax," he mumbled, hoping the bandits would simply go away as the others had. Yet he knew it was unlikely. These bandits were different. They seemed more like cold-hearted killers--like the group that had beaten Dallsa's father and tried to drag the girl off with them.

  As the robbers dismounted from their horses and closed in on the carriage, Dalton raised his crossbow in shaking hands. He fired at a bandit and missed. They dragged him from his horse and shoved him facedown in the mud. One of them bound his hands with ropes and then kicked him in the ribs.

  "Come out, come out, my young friends!" a bandit cried, as the others laughed. "You belong to us now, since you're in our carriage." The bandit banged on the door with his rusty sword hilt. "Don't keep us waiting!"

  "Wait here," said Lannon, to Dallsa. She clung to him for a moment in terror and then let go. He opened the carriage door and stepped out into the road. The rain was only a sprinkle now, blown about by a pleasant breeze that ruffled Lannon's cloak. He gazed out from beneath his hood, the Eye of Divinity surging through him. At the moment, Dalton appeared unharmed, and Lannon planned to follow the shopkeeper's advice and try to use reason before resorting to violence.

  "Why don't you simply let us go?" Lannon asked. "We don't have any money. There is no need for bloodshed."

  The bandits exchanged glances of disbelief. "Bloodshed?" one of them replied. "You're speaking of your own blood, right?"

  "No," Lannon said in a grim tone. "I mean yours." A year ago, he might have been terrified to face a group of armed cutthroats. But he'd been through so many battles and had grown so confident in his abilities that these rogues simply struck no fear in his heart at all. They didn't seem like worthy opponents.

  The bandits hesitated, glancing at Lannon's sheathed sword. Then they burst into laughter, slapping each other on the back. They charged him with full intent to murder him, their blades raised for the killing blows.

  Lannon drew his Dragon sword and cut down the first rogue to reach him with a stroke so swift his foe never caught a glimpse of it. He seized another one by the arm and flung him against a nearby oak tree. In an instant, two men were down and not moving. The others backed away, eyes wide.

  Lannon stood like a stature, sword in hand, waiting for them to make a move. It was their choice--how they wanted their lives to proceed. They could choose to avoid a fight and instead flee, or they could choose to perhaps die in the mud for their evil. It wasn't up to Lannon to make that choice for them. He wasn't fond of killing at all, but he was a trained and experienced Blue Knight. He was prepared to do what needed to be done.

  Two of them chose to flee, while two others charged him. Lannon chopped a rusty sword in two and then struck the man's forehead with his sword hilt, knocking him unconscious. He ducked a clumsy swing and drove his blade through the rogue's shoulder, then kicked him into the mud.

  That left three undecided bandits with shocked faces.

  "Gather the fallen and flee," said Lannon.

  They hesitated, then did as he commanded--placing the fallen men across their saddles. They kept glancing at Lannon with stunned looks.

  Lannon hated to leave the rogues behind to perhaps terrorize other travelers, but short of executing the thieves without a fair trial (which was a violation of the Sacred Laws and not something Lannon would do regardless), he didn't have time to deal with them. They had been struck a stout blow and would probably be out of action for a while. That would give Lannon time to discuss the issue with Taris and see if some Knights or hired Rangers could return to weed out the bandits along that route. It was an issue that would require time, discussion, and resources to resolve. But right now the threat of Bellis was much more serious, and Lannon needed to move on.

  He helped Dalton up from the mud, and the shopkeeper shook his head in amazement. "Lad, I knew you were something special." He patted Lannon on the back. "I only wish you had finished them off."

  "Maybe they'll change their ways," said Lannon. As a Divine Knight, he was required to show mercy whenever possible and kill for defensive purposes. But on the other hand, letting hardened criminals go because he didn't have the time or resources to arrest them was not something that seemed wise in the least. Lannon was troubled by the issue, wishing there was an easy answer.

  Dalton nodded. "I see. You're too young to understand. Men like those won't change. They'll just keeping robbing and tormenting folks until they're dead or in a dungeon. I've seen it all before. The bandits need to be cleaned out by force."

  "This road definitely needs attention," Lannon agreed.

  Dalton gazed at him thoughtfully. "And I'll bet you can make it happen. You've got the ear of someone important. Am I right?"

  Lannon shrugged. "I'll do my best. There are a lot of areas of Silverland that need attention, including Kalamede."

  "Yes," said Dalton, "I've heard of the trouble there, with those cultists. I'm guessing that's why you're headed there."

  Lannon said nothing. He helped Dalton into the driver's seat and then returned to the carriage. As he stepped inside, Dallsa threw her arms around him. She grinned with delight.

  "You must be a Divine Knight," she said, looking him up and down. "Only a warrior of Dremlock could fight like that. What's your color class, Lannon?"

  "Blue," he said, seating himself.

  Her grin vanished. "I see. Doesn't that make you an...?"

  Lannon sighed. "I'm not an assassin, Dallsa."

  "I meant no disrespect," she said. "That's just something I've read about Blue Knights."

  "There is truth in it," Lannon admitted. "But not for me."

  "Will you mention me to the Knights?" she asked. "That way, they can come to Rogue Haven and test me." She chuckled, though she still trembling from the incident with the bandits. "I'm only kidding, Lannon."

  "Dremlock needs healers," said Lan
non. "If you truly have the gift, I would be glad to help you become a Squire."

  She seemed to stiffen a bit. "Don't concern yourself with it. My father needs me to help run the shop. It's just a silly dream."

  ***

  In the days following the battle with the Blood Legion, the camp of Dremlock was a miserable place. The wretched spring weather continued, with rain hammering the tents and occasional lightning. There were dozens of wounded Divine Knights and Legion warriors suffering great pain. Some of them died over those three days from blood loss or infection, in spite of the healers' best efforts. Others had missing limbs that could not be found or reattached, and some had such severe injuries they had to have limbs removed. It was an ugly scene. The groans and cries of pain went on day and night, as the White Knights worked without sleeping. Jerret recovered quickly from his stomach wound, in spite of refusing to rest.

  At last the wounded were either on the path to recovery or had died, and Taris decided it was time to either resume (or abandon) the journey. The battalion had taken another significant blow, and Taris was concerned about their diminished numbers. They discussed the issue in a meeting and decided--after much debate--that they had enough warriors and resources to continue the mission to Kalamede.

  Many of the Blood Legion prisoners had died from wounds, and most of those who had survived were allowed to go free after swearing an oath of peace. The battalion simply didn't have the resources to deal with them. The Blood Legion itself was now very weak and disorganized and these defeated warriors were not perceived as a great threat. The crowd of weary Legion fighters was simply left standing in the grass as the Divine Knights rode onward.

  Prince Vannas was being kept in a healer's tent, suffering from unseen wounds. The poison arrow was not a factor--as no trace of damage from it could be found. Somehow, the White Flamestone had healed him. However, Vannas was suffering from some kind of mental or spiritual anguish that left him unable or unwilling to do much besides lay around with an unhappy expression on his face. He barely ate or drank anything, and his sleep was filled with nightmares that were so vivid they sent him into panic attacks and he had to be awakened. He refused to allow any of his friends to visit him.

  Lothrin still had possession of the White Flamestone, and no one questioned it. Because the Ranger had the ability to wield the stone to a relatively small degree, he was allowed to carry it while the prince was recovering. The recent quarreling between Vannas and Lothrin had either been forgotten by Taris or was being ignored. Aldreya wasn't fond of the idea of Lothrin carrying the stone, for she knew it might enrage Vannas; and with the prince's mental state already questionable, a bad turn of events could result. Yet it was not Aldreya's duty to question Lothrin's status as a wielder of the Flamestone. That was Taris' decision.

  It was early morning--just after the meeting in which it was decided they would move on to Kalamede--when Aldreya and Lothrin entered Vannas' tent, insisting they be allowed to visit him. Aldreya made it clear they weren't accepting no as an answer. The healer reluctantly agreed and stepped out to give them some privacy, but he warned them that if the prince became too upset they would have to leave. He told them he would be standing just outside the tent if they needed him. Pulling his white hood over his head, he gave them a final stern glance and made his exit. Aldreya and Lothrin were left alone with the prince.

  Vannas lay with his eyes closed, apparently asleep. His face looked tense and weary. Aldreya gently squeezed his shoulder, and his eyes fluttered open. "Greetings," she said, smiling. "How are you feeling?"

  Vannas groaned. "Horrible. I don't wish to be disturbed."

  "We have the White Flamestone," said Aldreya, feeling anxious as she spoke. "Would you like it returned to you?" She wasn't sure if Taris wanted the prince to have possession of it at the moment, but she was eager to avoid a conflict. She realized she might have overstepped her authority by asking that question, and she instantly regretted it.

  Vannas' eyes widened, and a shadow of fear darkened his face. "No...I want you to keep it for now. Don't even show it to me."

  Aldreya was surprised. She'd expected Vannas to demand its immediate return. He seemed genuinely afraid of it, his expression quite unsettling. "Very well. We will guard it with our lives until you're feeling better."

  "Actually, I have it," said Lothrin, gazing with concern at his cousin. "However, I have no plans to keep it. Whenever you want it, just let me know."

  Vannas sighed. "I would rather Aldreya hold onto it. Regardless, I'm not sure I want it anymore. It calls to me endlessly, yet...I dread the thought of holding it again. Every time I use it, I seem to lose myself further to its power. It is maddening. Dremlock did nothing to prepare me for this, and I feel I have been mistreated--that they kept the truth from me so I would boldly go forth into battle."

  Aldreya looked away, knowing it was true and feeling ashamed. Dremlock had shoved the prince into combat, knowing the Flamestone might consume him. Vannas was expected to serve Dremlock even at the cost of his own sanity--the ultimate sacrifice for his kingdom.

  "Yes," said Lothrin, "it's all clear to me now. They did indeed hide the truth from you, because they felt it was necessary for Dremlock's survival. But now there is a backlash, as the power has begun to devour you. This must be why Olzet Ka placed the Crimson Flamestone on a bed of straw so long ago, securing it with sorcery so that no one could remove it. It must have sought to consume even the great king himself. These Flamestones are clearly not meant for mortal hands. They belong to the White Guardian alone."

  "My glorious dream has become a nightmare," said Vannas. "I became a demon on the battlefield, killing anything that got in my way--including our own Knights. I don't deserve to possess the Flamestone. Yet even as I say that, I am compelled to take it back and cradle it in my arms. It is inevitable that I will demand it be returned to me. Even now, Lothrin, I feel terrible jealously that you have possession of it. I want to kill you and take it back. How shameful is that?"

  Lothrin bowed his head. "You don't want to kill me. You are being forced to feel that way. You've gotten a taste of divine power and it has changed you in some ways. Yet underneath you're still the noble prince I've always respected. I fear the Flamestone is going to destroy you, my cousin. The dread is always with me. If you can find the strength, I ask that you pass it onto me."

  Vannas' face reddened with anger. "Indeed. I'm not surprised you have asked me that. But wouldn't the Flamestone consume you as well? What makes you think you're fit to wield it?"

  "Because I cannot draw great power from it," said Lothrin. "Thus, I am less likely to be consumed. My weaker ability to connect with the stone actually could protect me from it, cousin."

  "Yet the stone would be too weak in your hands," said Vannas. "How could you hope to defeat all the mighty foes that threaten us? Taris still expects me to wield it. He won't accept anything less."

  "Actually," said Lothrin, "I have spoken to Taris and told him of my concerns. We had a long talk, and he has agreed that I should possess the Flamestone for now. He too fears what you are becoming."

  Vannas sat up, seething with rage. "So you have turned against me completely. I knew I couldn't trust you. You won't get away with this!"

  "Calm yourself," said Lothrin. "Taris simply believes you need some time away from the stone. It's not necessarily permanent."

  Vannas' rage became a groan of disgust. "I see how it is. Taris is punishing me because I killed some of our Knights. Tell me it isn't true."

  "It's not a punishment," said Aldreya. "He knows you made a mistake, and he forgives you for that. This is about your protection--and the protection of everyone around you. You may be asked to wield the Flamestone only if absolutely necessary from now on. Try to respect Taris' wisdom in this matter. Unlike some of the other Knights, he actually cares about your well being."

  "I've heard enough!" Vannas shouted, his body trembling and his face turning crimson. "After all I've done for Dremlock, I am tre
ated like dirt. Get out of my tent--both of you! And trouble me no more!"

  The healer leaned into the tent, motioning to them. "You must leave."

  "We'll visit you again," said Lothrin.

  "Maybe I'll visit you first," said the prince, "with dagger in hand. I'll get my Flamestone back one way or another."

  Looking deeply saddened, Lothrin left the tent.

  Chapter 12: Rogue Haven

  The remainder of the journey to Rogue Haven went smoothly. The weather stayed cloudy, but no rain troubled them. They didn't encounter any other bandits, as the presence of Rangers along the road increased as they moved farther south. When they camped, Lannon stayed awake and on guard while the shopkeeper and his daughter slept. Then when they resumed travel, it was Lannon's turn to doze--which he did sitting up in the carriage.

  Dallsa remained very talkative, asking Lannon many questions about Dremlock and what it was like to be a Divine Knight. Lannon answered them carefully, making no mention of the Eye of Divinity. She grew increasingly interested in trying her luck as a Squire--revealing a deep passion for the goal of Knighthood that lay beneath her fear of leaving her father's side. Lannon reassured her repeatedly that he would try to send someone to test her, but she expressed doubts that anyone would actually come. She believed Lannon was just being kind to her, in spite of him insisting he meant what he said. Having no way to convince her, he finally took to avoiding the issue whenever she brought it up. Regardless, the two became friends during the days of travel and Lannon found himself enjoying her company.

  Rogue Haven was remote and rugged, with pine and oak forestlands, log cabins where hunters and trappers dwelt, and a few small businesses--such as Dalton's shop. Some of the businesses, including the shop, were located along a dirt road that acted as the town's center. The shop was called Dallsa's Goods and displayed a painting of Dallsa in a blue dress (depicting her when she was five years old) sitting on a barrel and smiling, in the front window. It was a large log-and-stone building flanked by a few towering pines. Inside were all manner of goods, ranging from animal furs to jerky and other food items to hunting and fishing gear--with many of the items hanging from nails on the walls. There were also barrels of wine and ale, along with tables and chairs positioned near a fireplace so visitors could relax and enjoy food, drink, and maybe a bit of gambling. It was a pleasant shop run by pleasant people, and Lannon liked the relaxed atmosphere.