The Blood of Kings (Book 4)

by Robert E. Keller

  The moments passed by.

  Lannon lost himself to frustration. "So how is the weather outside?" It was a sarcastic question, but the guard seemed oblivious.

  The guard's mouth hung open for a moment, full of turkey. "It's fine. Nice and sunny. Perfect for an execution. Are you ready to die?"

  If it will get me out of this conversation, Lannon thought sarcastically. "Of course not. I would prefer to live. Can you tell your king that I would like to speak to him? My name is Lannon Sunshield. I'm the Bearer of the Eye of Divinity. He might find it useful to speak to me."

  Lannon's statement didn't seem to register with the guard, who simply stared at him and continued eating.

  Lannon tried again to communicate. "You see, I'm a sorcerer...sort of. I'm someone important to this kingdom. Listen, can you just tell your king to..." He let his words trail off in frustration. Clearly, he was getting nowhere. Was he a fool for not simply trying to escape?

  "So you're important," the guard mumbled. "I already knew that."

  "Great!" said Lannon, hope rising within him. "Since you know the truth, would it trouble you too much to take my message to the king?"

  The guard stood in silence for a while, then said, "It won't save you from a beheading."

  Lannon sighed. "I understand that I must lose my head. You're made it very clear. But I would like to chat with King Verlamer before I do."

  "He'll see you when, and if, he decides to," the guard grunted. "Until then, you can rot in your cell."

  "What about food and drink?" asked Lannon. "I'm sure Bellis doesn't starve its prisoners."

  "I won't feed you," the guard growled.

  "Why not?" asked Lannon.

  "Because I'm just passing through," he replied. "I came down here to grab a crate of supplies. I actually tend to the horses. I shoe them."

  "You shoe horses?" said Lannon.

  The man held forth the hammer. "I shoe horses. And I do other things too."

  "Great," said Lannon, feeling the urge to rip out his own hair. "It seems I've wasted my time."

  The man shrugged his broad shoulders and walked away.

  Not yet convinced that escape was the best option when Dremlock was occupied by thousands of hostile warriors, Lannon went back to sleep.

  ***

  When Lannon awoke, King Verlamer was standing outside his cell. Lannon knew instantly who it was, having seen him in a vision during an encounter with the Eye of Dreams. Regardless, there was no mistaking the King of Bellis. His huge stature and royal garb told the tale--along with the immense power and commanding aura that seemed to engulf him. Verlamer had cleaned up a bit since Lannon had last seen him--his hair and beard neatly combed and his robe and cape free of stains. Lannon hadn't expected to meet him so soon, and his heart sped up with anticipation. This was the opportunity he'd been hoping for.

  "Ah, Lannon Sunshield," the king said. "Did you sleep well?"

  For a moment, the two gazed at each other through the bars, and then Lannon broke free of his surprise and probed Verlamer with the Eye. But only a wall of fog was revealed that Lannon had encountered before--which meant some type of sorcery was blocking his efforts.

  "I feel okay," said Lannon. "Just a bit hungry." He was impressed with Verlamer's size. The king's huge form, pale skin, and bony hands reminded him of Jace--only he was a bit taller, with a thick beard, and more insane looking. His eyes shone with a madness Lannon couldn't begin to comprehend. But was it actually madness Lannon saw there, or something related to sorcery? He wished the Eye could answer that question.

  "You will be fed soon enough," said Verlamer. "We don't starve our captives. In fact, we treat our prisoners with great kindness...usually."

  "What of my companions?" asked Lannon.

  "Alive and unharmed," said Verlamer, "for the time being. However, I must warn you that if you attempt to escape, they will be put to death immediately." He leaned toward Lannon, one eyebrow raised. "Yet you could escape. Am I right? Surely a simple dungeon cannot contain the Eye of Divinity."

  Lannon shrugged. "Possibly, but I don't intend to try." That wasn't entirely true. If at any point he suspected his friends were facing an execution, he would certainly attempt freeing himself in order to go to their aid.

  Verlamer smiled. "Of course not, considering what I just told you. You're no fool, Lannon Sunshield. You are a lover of peace--and more importantly, a thinker like me. At least I know that much about you. You will not seek violence until you have exhausted more intelligent options."

  "I never wanted this war," said Lannon, opting to admit the truth. "I came here seeking a peaceful solution."

  "I never wanted it either," said Verlamer. "Dremlock could have chosen the way of peace and remained in control of its destiny. Instead, it chose to fight. Surely, being a man of peace, you disagree with that decision."

  "The way of peace," said Lannon, "would have meant being enslaved to your kingdom. That is not acceptable for Divine Knights."

  "But brutal warfare is?" said Verlamer, with a sly expression.

  Lannon hated war, but being enslaved by a mad king was not a worthy alternative. "The choice was yours to invade Silverland. We did what was necessary--what the Divine Essence wanted."

  "Ah, yes," said Verlamer. "Your ancient god. Or rather, a fragment of an ancient god that uses mortals to achieve its goals."

  "I am delighted to serve my god," said Lannon. He wondered how the Divine Essence was reacting to the loss of Dremlock and if it was in danger. He wished he could communicate with it somehow.

  The king stroked his beard thoughtfully, then said, "You interest me, Lannon Sunshield. Such a noble, peaceful spirit--yet so deadly with your blade. You defeated Tenneth Bard and the Hand of Tharnin. That makes you the greatest warrior in all the land, to my way of thinking. You are truly the essence of the Dark Watchmen reborn. I shall enjoy getting to know you."

  "Can I see my companions?" asked Lannon.

  "Not now," said the king, with a dismissive wave. "Perhaps later. We have plenty of time for things like that. I intend to remain at Dremlock for a while. Yes, I will rule Gallamerth from here. I feel right at home in this marvelous kingdom, and I have much to learn about the ways of the Divine Knights. You can help me learn, Lannon. In fact, you can help me in many ways. And you will."

  "What are you planning?" asked Lannon.

  "I don't want to execute anyone," said Verlamer. "I don't even want to hold anyone captive. I merely seek cooperation. This is all a game to me, Lannon. A game to conquer the world, starting with our continent of Gallamerth. I relish the challenge. I'm not some blockheaded oaf who loves to kill or is evil simply because I'm too stupid not to be. In fact, I'm not evil at all--though others try to make me out to be a vicious tyrant. I simply appreciate the strategy of expansion and, if necessary, war as well. The glorious challenge is all that compels me."

  "Yet you're in league with Tharnin," said Lannon. He didn't want to enrage the king, but he felt that Verlamer was living under an illusion and needed to be shown a bit of truth. "The Goblin Lords proved that."

  "In league with Tharnin?" said Verlamer. "Indeed. But Tharnin does not control me. It cannot control me. My bloodline prevents it. Tharnin is simply another tool that I am using to achieve my goals."

  "If the Deep Shadow can't control you," said Lannon, "then it will seek to influence you in ways you might not be aware of."

  "Let it try," said Verlamer, with a yawn. "I make my own decisions. I bow to no one--not even my own god. Our deity is there to wield influence over the people, but he holds no sway over me. He gives me no orders. In fact, I don't even believe in him. I know he is an imposter posing as our god. It doesn't matter. I use him just as I use everyone--to further my cause."

  "What if you're wrong?" said Lannon. "What if your god is influencing you in such a clever way you don't realize it?" Lannon had encountered enough of Tharnin's mischief to know just how cunning it was. It had infiltrated Bellis for a reason, but King Ve
rlamer seemed completely oblivious to the forces he was dealing with. The Deep Shadow had a way of blinding even the wisest people, and Lannon suspected that Tharnin was entirely responsible for Verlamer's assault on Gallamerth. Clearly, this all had to be the work of Tharnin.

  "Impossible," said Verlamer. "The sorcerer who poses as my god doesn't even know that I know he is a fake. He thinks I believe in him as everyone else does, the fool. But he is only my puppet, giving my rule even greater credibility. The real god of Bellis has been asleep for ages. Now, I will never admit we had this conversation, and we will not speak of it again. Is that clear?"

  Lannon nodded.

  "This is fascinating," said Verlamer. "I've just met you, and here I am spilling my secrets. You truly are extraordinary." He reached into the pocket of his green robe. "But I am extraordinary as well. In fact, I hold the fate of Dremlock Kingdom in my hand. And I very much mean that--right in my hand."

  Lannon probed the king's pocket with the Eye, but the wall of fog shut him out. It was extremely frustrating, a barrier that seemed impenetrable.

  "You wish to see what's in my pocket?" asked the king. "Just this little stone that shines so beautifully." He removed a black pouch from his pocket. Smiling, he then slid the White Flamestone from the pouch. The pale, shimmering glow flooded the dungeon. Verlamer's eyes behind that glow looked black.

  Lannon groaned at the sight of it.

  "A magnificent weapon," said Verlamer, "but quite useless in my hands. And really, it is too dangerous for anyone besides myself to possess. Thus, I shall keep it with me, safe at all times. I enjoy looking at it."

  Lannon didn't respond, the will drained from him. King Verlamer seemed to have all the answers. Maybe he wasn't under the influence of Tharnin after all. Maybe no one could outwit him.

  "I will summon a guard," said Verlamer, "to provide food and drink. Don't bother trying to escape. Even if you leave your cell, you would never get out of this building alive. And your friends would pay dearly for such a decision. After you have eaten and rested for a time, we will talk again."

  Once again, Lannon's frustration boiled over. "You want me to be another puppet of yours, just like everyone else."

  "No," said Verlamer, shaking his head. His eyes were wide with wonder. "Not just another puppet. Your sight is worth more than ten of these Flamestones! But one has to understand how best to use it. That is where Dremlock failed you miserably. Your gifts were not dealt with properly, Lannon. I won't make that mistake."

  "I won't be your slave," said Lannon.

  "You already are," said Verlamer, tapping the cell bars. "You can either be treated with dignity and respect--or you can suffer horribly. The choice is yours. But if you think you're going to match wits with me, then you have already chosen the bitter path of suffering." With that, King Verlamer walked away.

  Then I guess I'm going to suffer, Lannon thought.

  Chapter 21: The Mad King of Bellis

  As promised, Lannon was brought a platter of eggs, bread, and water. The food was bland, with no butter, but he gobbled it up. After that, Lannon sat and waited for King Verlamer to return. The guard wasn't much for company, speaking only when necessary, and Lannon spent his time listening to scurrying, squeaking rats. He wondered why a dungeon in Dremlock had so many rats. Why hadn't the Orange Squires dealt with them? There was something sinister and unnatural about their presence, and he wondered if they had been brought there deliberately by Verlamer. Perhaps he liked the atmosphere of his dungeons to be foul.

  Lannon glanced at his irons again, longing to break free. The irons were very stout, as were the cell bars. Lannon doubted he could summon the strength to free himself by brute force. He was capable of great feats of strength, but ripping apart thick irons or steel bars was beyond him. However, he sensed it would have been quite easy to unlock the irons and his cell door. The locks weren't designed to resist the Eye of Divinity. He could have freed himself in moments.

  But what would he do and where would he go? He could certainly put up a fight. It was even possible he could escape the kingdom if he moved quickly enough and got lucky. But escape wouldn't help his friends, and there was no way he could liberate the kingdom on his own. Lannon was confident in his growing abilities, but attempting to take back Dremlock on his own seemed like a path to certain death. And it would likely get his friends killed (if they weren't dead already).

  So Lannon was forced to sit and wait, his mind filled with gloomy thoughts. He sipped at his water awkwardly, his shackles getting in the way.

  At last King Verlamer returned--flanked by two Guardians. "I must apologize for the delay, Lannon, but I'm very busy lately. My duties are very demanding. You will accompany me up to the Great Hall." With that, the king unlocked Lannon's cell and stepped back.

  Lannon hesitated, wondering if it was a trick of some sort. But sensing no obvious danger, he stepped into the hallway. Having no idea what the king wanted from him, he simply followed along. He caught site of something moving toward him from the shadows, and he froze. The king's golden Dragon crept forth, gazing at Lannon with curiosity.

  For a moment, Lannon forgot to breathe. He was captivated by the Dragon, who seemed to be taking as great an interest in him. Lannon studied it with the Eye and saw that it was hundreds of years old and immensely powerful. It was a creature of Tharnin, but it did not radiate the gloom of Tharnin. Its power was its own and served its will. It was a vain beast that believed itself superior to those around it, but it was fiercely loyal to the King of Bellis.

  The Dragon was a beautiful creature, with its shimmering golden scales that seemed to hold a touch of crimson. Its yellow eyes were both cunning and hypnotic, seeming to gaze deep into Lannon.

  "Say hello to Goratho," said Verlamer.

  Lannon didn't reply, his gaze fixed on the beast before him. He sensed that the Dragon could move with blinding speed when it chose to--speed that even Lannon might fail to match. This was not the Great Dragon that had done so much damage at Dorok's Hand, yet in spite of its relatively small size, this was a beast that could cause much carnage if it wanted to. Dragons were rarely encountered by humans, as they preferred to dwell in remote, dangerous regions of the Bloodlands, so their capabilities were not well known. Lannon was shocked to discover just how powerful these Goblins were--which explained why his Dragon-bone sword was so stout. The King of Bellis was very well defended.

  "As we pass through the halls," said the king, "do not look at or talk to anyone. Follow the Guardians."

  They passed rows of cells that contained familiar faces--Knights of Dremlock. Vesselin Hopebringer stood in one of the cells, and his eyes briefly met those of Lannon. Lannon was surprised to see a look of determination on the acting Lord Knight's face, but he could sense nothing beyond the fact that Vesselin was a changed man somehow.

  King Verlamer took out his ring of keys and let Vesselin out of his cell. "Come along, old man. There is a place for you at table as well."

  Vesselin followed obediently.

  Lannon wanted to ask him many questions, but he kept quiet. However, Vesselin turned to him at one point and said, "Krissana Windsword and Talfos Wolfheart are dead, as well as many other Knights. Furlus was captured on route to Dremlock by members of the Blood Legion and is now here. Cordus is in the care of the Divine Essence, safe for the time being. Some of the Dark Knights are still--"

  King Verlamer struck Vesselin in the face to silence him--a vicious blow that nearly took the old man off his feet. "That's enough of that talk!"

  Anger surged through Lannon, and the Eye sprang to life. For a moment he struggled to contain himself, wanting to break free and deal with Verlamer. But with the Dragon and two Guardians present--as well as the powerful king himself--it wouldn't have been a wise move. Once again, Lannon was forced to be patient and wait for an opportunity.

  Verlamer smiled at Lannon. "You don't like it that I hit the old man. You want to punish me for it. Yet you should know that it was this old foo
l--the acting Lord Knight--who gave the order of surrender. Thus, I have no respect for him. He is a spineless weakling with no faith in his warriors."

  Vesselin shrugged off the blow and kept his head held high, gazing with disgust at the king. "Darkender Tunnel had been breached, Lannon. Knights and Squires were dying. I did what was necessary."

  "I understand," said Lannon.

  King Verlamer's face darkened, and he raised his hand again to strike Vesselin. But Lannon froze his arm with the Eye.

  Verlamer fixed in his icy gaze on Lannon. "You dare interfere, Sunshield?" He broke free of Lannon's hold and seized him by the cloak. "If you turn your sorcery against me again, lad, I will have the old man executed. You may be the Bearer of the Eye and a Dark Watchman, but I am the King of Gallamerth and I do not tolerate such disrespect from anyone!"

  "I'm sorry," Lannon mumbled.

  The king glowered at him for a moment longer and then released him. "Enough of this folly. We have a meeting to attend."

  They went up a flight of stone stairs and emerged into Dremlock Hall of the North Tower. Sunlight steamed in through round windows, reflecting off the armor of more Golden Knights who stood guard. A Lord and Lady of Bellis were seated at a long table, along with a Wizard. Also present, and in heavy irons, were the members of the Divine Shield, including Furlus Goblincrusher and Fadar Stonebow. Valedos was also present, along with Bekka Nightspear. They stood off to one side, chained together in a row. Guardians stood by them with drawn blades, ready to strike instantly if the need should arise.

  Verlamer's Dragon climbed atop the large stone fireplace--which currently held only grey ash--and curled up to sleep, one wing and his tail draped over the edge. He almost looked like a golden statue.

  "The prisoners will remain quiet," said Verlamer, "or face the wrath of my Guardians. This meeting will be conducted in an orderly fashion."

  Taris looked calm, but Furlus was clearly enraged. Prince Vannas seemed weary and defeated. Jace looked almost bored, standing like a hulking shadow with his head bowed and giving an occasional yawn. The others showed mixed emotions.