The Blood of Kings (Book 4)

by Robert E. Keller

  "I guess we should have gotten involved," said Lannon, in frustration.

  Verlamer nodded. "Obviously. But that seems to go against all that Dremlock stands for. This kingdom is about defending the weak and helpless. Or is it? It has made war on Tharnin and the Blood Legion for centuries."

  "I don't know about all that," said Lannon. "I just know my kingdom was invaded and a lot of Knights are dead or enslaved. And I don't believe it was necessary. It may be all a game to you, but at what cost?"

  "The cost of lives," said Verlamer, "and freedom. But lives and freedom are always being lost--if not from war, then from hunger or disease or crime. This is the way of the world, Lannon. You can't change it."

  Lannon groaned inwardly. The king was too set in his ways to be reasoned with, and Lannon should have known that.

  "Here," said Verlamer, "put some bait on that hook."

  Lannon raised his shackled wrists.

  Verlamer scratched his head. "Ah, yes, your irons. They are meaningless, of course. But I want to state clearly that if you make any attempt at escape, your friends will all be executed immediately. And their deaths will be your fault. This is no idle threat, Lannon. I will have them executed."

  "I'm not planning to escape," said Lannon.

  "Then you may remove them," said Verlamer.

  Using the Eye, Lannon unlocked the irons and tossed them aside. He rubbed his aching wrists, then put some bait on his hook.

  They fished for nearly two hours, as the sun moved across the afternoon sky. Lannon kept trying to start conversations, but Verlamer would hear none of it. He was too caught up in the competition. He would roar with laughter and clap Lannon on the back whenever the lad pulled in a worthy fish. He was so animated as he fought with the fish that he nearly toppled into the river at one point.

  Eventually the king was satisfied that he'd beaten Lannon, and he laid his pole on the bank and turned to gaze at the lad. "I defeated you at fishing, but I haven't defeated you in the way I would most enjoy--in honorable combat. I've always wanted to test my skills against a Dark Watchman, but I thought they were extinct and that I would never get the chance. Yet here you stand, right next to me, and you are more valuable to me alive than dead."

  The Dragon raised its head, as if suddenly listening.

  "I would love to test my strength against you," said Verlamer. "I believe I can defeat you, blade to blade or hand to hand--it matters not. The Eye of Divinity is an extraordinary gift, but I was born to conquer my foes. What do you think, Lannon? Do you think I could defeat you?"

  "I don't know," Lannon admitted. He believed the battle would never take place, regardless, for Verlamer had too much to lose. Even someone as crazy as he seemed to be wouldn't likely go that far.

  "To kill a Dark Watchman," said the king, "would confirm that I am the greatest warrior in all the land." His eyes blazed with passion. "No one would dare challenge me again in the arena." He paused, the fire dying in his eyes. "But it's just a dream of mine. I don't actually want to kill you, Lannon. I want you to swear to serve me, to make me your new Lord Knight. I want to use your sight to achieve my goals. How would you like to help me rule all of Gallamerth?"

  Lannon considered it. If he played along he might end up in a position of great power--and then he could betray the king and tear down his empire. But even though he was a Blue Knight, such sneaky tactics taken to that extreme were not his way. He didn't want to live as a traitor--even if he was only pretending. He couldn't do it.

  "I can never take that oath," said Lannon.

  For a moment, Verlamer's face darkened. Then he shrugged. "I don't expect you to do so--yet. But in time I believe you will come to love and respect me. Perhaps after you witness the Dragon Duels tomorrow." He placed his hand on Lannon's shoulder. "My own son is useless, Lannon. You hold virtues he could never imagine. His mind is dull and petty. I've longed for someone like you who bears a great gift like I do--someone I can relate to. We met as bitter enemies, but we can become excellent friends."

  "I hope so," said Lannon, and he meant it. But that would only work if Verlamer would release those he'd taken prisoner and turn the kingdom back over to the Divine Knights. Yet there was no point in pressing the issue now.

  "This doesn't mean you are not a prisoner," said Verlamer. "All it means is that I see great potential in you and I am offering you a chance at a life filled with glory. You can do great things for your kingdom and the lands beyond. You can help your friends. Spend some time thinking about it."

  "I will," said Lannon, tossing a fish back into the river. But he'd already decided that King Verlamer would never accept Lannon's demands that Bellis withdraw its forces from Dremlock. Lannon was stubborn, and the king would eventually come to understand it. Things surely would not end peacefully.

  Chapter 23: The Dragon Duels

  The North Tower Courtyard was a festive scene. Bellis hadn't just brought an army with them to Dremlock--but also a large host of servants and entertainers. They had come expecting to win the war. It was another bright, sunny day with a warm breeze blowing across the neatly trimmed grass. The drums were out in full force, Dragon banners waved all over the courtyard, and long Dragon kites flapped in the wind. Bards walked amongst the tables, playing and singing, as beautiful dancers adorned with silk leapt and twirled gracefully nearby. Other servants wandered around carrying platters of bread, cheese, pickles, cookies, and drinks. There were fire eaters and sword swallowers, archers and blade throwers displaying their skills, and magicians performing tricks.

  But beneath all the colors and cheerful noise lay a shadow of death and madness. At the center of the courtyard a circular pit had been dug, surrounded by red stakes that had been pounded into the earth. The bottom of the pit was lined with metal spikes. Standing at the pit's edge was Shennen, Bekka, Vorden, Jerret, Aldreya, Galvia, Lothrin, and Prince Vannas. Each of those prisoners had a rope around his or her neck, and the ropes were held by nine muscular men with black hoods concealing their faces. Off to one side, on his bony knees and in shackles, was Vesselin Hopebringer, who was being forced to watch the duels up close.

  Surrounding the pit of death were a number of Bellis' warriors--elite Knights with crossbows as well as Guardians with drawn swords. They were ready to strike if things should get out of hand.

  Also present were a large number of Divine Knights (including the most rebellious ones) all in shackles--including Furlus, Trenton, and Fadar. Jace was also present, but Taris was missing. Lannon wasn't sure what Verlamer hoped to accomplish by bringing them to watch, but little the king did made sense to Lannon. Verlamer was called The Mad King of Bellis for a good reason.

  Verlamer and Lannon sat side by side at a table not far from the pit, where the king could get a good view of the action. As usual, his golden Dragon was curled up nearby, and two Guardians stood close to him.

  "What do you think?" said Verlamer. "When we hold the Dragon Duels, it is always quite festive. Typically locals are invited to watch--although this mountain is quite barren as of late. Perhaps we will hold them in Kalamede or Gravendar next time, where there are sure to be large crowds."

  But Lannon couldn't see the merrymaking going on around him. His gaze was fixed on the Divine Knights standing at the edge of the pit--in a position that seemed to indicate they would be executed. He gripped the table's edge, his knuckles white, and wondered if he would be forced to fight. He was still free of his shackles, which had served no purpose anyway, but he lacked his sword or throwing star. However, there were stout weapons all around him--the swords the Guardians held--and with a swift move it wouldn't hard to secure one.

  "Relax, Lannon," said the king. "No one is going to die--at least not yet. It's all for show, lad, until the duel begins. Not only may it sway a few hearts amongst your Knights, but it helps my own warriors to know their place. Try to enjoy this day."

  Lannon could enjoy nothing.

  Verlamer poured a bit of crimson liquid from a silver flask into h
is goblet. Then he added some wine. "Dragon blood, Lannon--very old. It is from the days of Althustus the Dragonforged. It is very invigorating and makes one appreciate the pleasures of life. I always drink a bit before the duels. I would let you try a sip, but it is forbidden to anyone but the King of Bellis."

  Verlamer gazed into the goblet, then drank deeply from it. When he was finished, his eyes seemed to brighten. He grinned.

  "I usually give a long-winded speech before these duels," he said, "but I'm not in the mood today. I think we'll just get on with it." He rose and raised his hand, and everyone fell silent. "My good people," he bellowed, "I hope you enjoy these contests that are sure to be extraordinary. To Dremlock's fighters--bear in mind that if you move beyond a range of twenty feet, or past the red stakes, you will be shot with arrows until you are dead."

  The Lords, Ladies, warriors, and servants cheered. Some the Lords and Ladies raised goblets of expensive wine, their grinning faces showing their eagerness for bloodshed. Meanwhile, servants fanned them and refilled their goblets and attended to their every need.

  Lannon looked upon them in disgust. How could such a large, extravagant kingdom be so barbaric? It seemed human life meant nothing to King Verlamer and the Lords and Ladies of Bellis, yet they were in charge of so many people. He couldn't comprehend such selfishness.

  "The first contest," said the king, "will involve Shennen Silverarrow and Bekka Nightspear--elite Blue Knights of Dremlock. They will be battling five Goblin Wolves. Although this contest may seem unfair, bear in mind that Dremlock's fighters have the advantage of quality weapons and sorcery--whereas the Wolves must rely on their natural attributes. Now let the first duel begin!"

  Shennen and Bekka were set free of their shackles and given their armor and weapons. Then everyone else moved away from them. A Goblin Tamer with a whip in hand--a member of the Blood Legion--emerged from the crowd, surrounded by the five Wolves. The large, bearded Tamer bellowed at the Wolves and threatened them with his whip, pointing at Shennen and Bekka.

  "Do not interfere in these duels, Lannon," said Verlamer, giving the lad a warning stare. "If you do, you will bring great suffering to your friends. I can sense if you use your power. You are here only to watch, no matter what happens."

  "I won't use it," Lannon promised. Of course, he wasn't sure he could keep that promise, but considering Verlamer's warning, he would try.

  The Wolves crept toward Shennen and Bekka, drool dripping from their huge teeth. They were vaguely humanoid in shape--a mix between wolf and man--with broad, muscular bodies. The gloom of the Deep Shadow surrounded them, an evil that seemed to radiate from their yellow eyes. Their fur was grey and long, hanging off them and blowing in the breeze. These powerful beasts had been made even mightier by the Thallites--given spiked collars and thick leather armor strapped to their bodies by harnesses. They had been fed special foods from places desolated by Tharnin to nurture their bodies with dark sorcery and give them enhanced strength and resilience. They moved forward like war machines, their armor shifting as they walked--heavy yet graceful creatures.

  Then they charged.

  They moved swiftly in spite of their weight and armor. One of them bounded through the air at Shennen, its demonic eyes gleaming with hatred as the great teeth sought the Blue Knight's throat. It appeared Shennen was going to be hammered by the heavy beast. For an instant, the Blue Knight simply stood with his burning Flayer in hand, as if too stunned to move, as the Wolf hurtled toward him.

  Then Shennen dropped down and slashed upward with the smoldering blade, cutting through the leather armor and slicing the beast's stomach wide open. The Wolf continued through the air over Shennen and struck the ground with a loud thump. The Wolf tumbled through the grass, its life quickly bleeding away. It rose up for a moment on its hind legs and turned, a chilling howl that sounded almost human escaping its throat. It staggered forward and then collapsed. It shuddered and continued trying to rise for a moment before death took it.

  Bekka dodged a snapping Wolf and slashed at its side, but it was an awkward strike that deflected off a plate of studded leather armor, doing no damage. The Wolf ran on past, then skidded to a halt. It whirled around with shocking speed and charged again. She drew her dagger and flung it at the Wolf's head. The dagger struck the Wolf between the eyes but deflected off its thick skull. As the Wolf hurtled toward her, another one moved to her flank, its long teeth seeking her thigh.

  With a brilliant spin move, Bekka dodged around the Wolf at her flank and drove her burning Flayer deep into its back--a deadly wound that caused the creature to lay shuddering in the grass. The other Wolf rose up on two legs and walked toward her, growling viciously, drool flying from its muzzle.

  Shennen leapt to his feet as another Wolf clamped its powerful jaws down onto his side. But the teeth caught only leather armor. Shennen tore away from the beast and backed toward the pit. The Wolf hesitated, then rose up on two legs and charged him, its claws raised to slash at his throat. It ran swiftly on two legs--almost as fast as a human. As Lannon watched in tense silence, Shennen waited until the Wolf was close enough to strike and then he did a cartwheel to one side. The Wolf skidded to a stop at the pit's edge, but Shennen kicked it in the back from behind. The Wolf teetered on the edge for a moment and then tumbled into the pit.

  A hideous bellow arose from the pit, as the Wolf landed on the spikes and met its doom. The leather armor failed to protect the beast from its own weight, as the spikes drove through the plates and deep into its body.

  Bekka hurled her burning Flayer at the Wolf that was approaching on two legs--a perfect strike that found its heart. The Wolf stumbled and went down. It tore the weapon free, but smoke poured from its chest wound. It tried to claw its way to her in a lurching, hideous fashion, dark blood oozing from its mouth.

  As Bekka moved to finish it, the remaining Goblin Wolf buried its teeth deep into the Blue Knight's thigh. She cried out in agony as the beast dragged her toward the pit, seemingly intent on pulling her down in a suicidal attack. Her weapons were gone, but she hammered at its skull with her fists--yet the creature shook off the blows easily and continued on. The muscular beast dragged her along with no difficulty, as if she were weightless.

  Lannon partially rose from his seat, the Eye of Divinity desperate to break free. But he held back, placing his trust in the elite Blue Knights. A single act of interference could cost them their lives and enrage the crowd.

  Its eyes crazed with hatred, the Wolf backed to the pit with Bekka's thigh still in its jaws. It was moving so swiftly that Shennen barely had time to react. He leapt over to her, diving to the ground and wrapping his arm around her free leg. The Wolf was at the very edge of the pit, its teeth still lodged in Bekka's thigh as she cried out in pain. Shennen and the Wolf engaged briefly in a tug of war, as Bekka continued beating on the creature with her fists, her face contorted from agony. She struck the creature so hard in desperation that she momentarily stunned it before it could go over the edge, and that bought her a few seconds.

  The Wolf was too strong for Shennen, and he lacked a means to brace himself and keep from sliding through the grass. His only hope lay in a quick strike--and he delivered it flawlessly. Still clinging to Bekka with one arm, Shennen drove his Flayer into the Wolf's skull. Had the blow been less than perfect, both of the Blue Knights might have been yanked into the deadly pit. But the blade hit firmly and with mighty force, the fires of Knightly sorcery helping it pierce the stout bone. Shennen yanked the blade free an instant before the Wolf released Bekka and reared up on two legs. It stood there swaying for a moment, then tumbled backwards into the hole. It was already dead before it landed on the spikes.

  Shennen lay panting for a moment. Then he rose and pulled Bekka away from the edge. He checked her thigh wound, then cut strips of cloth from her tunic and quickly bandaged it. She seemed to be in excruciating pain.

  Suddenly, Shennen turned and hurled the Flayer at King Verlamer, who was well within range. It was an inc
redibly swift throw backed by Knightly sorcery. The master assassin's smoldering Flayer moved as fast as an arrow and with deadly precision, straight toward the king's unprotected chest.

  Yet Verlamer reached up and plucked the weapon from the air only inches away from his heart. It was as if he'd casually plucked a falling leaf from the air in front of him. He studied the Flayer for a moment, his dark eyes shining. The green flames died out in his hand, doing no damage to his pale flesh.

  Lannon looked on in shock--stunned that Shennen had launched the attack and even more surprised that Verlamer had so easily caught the weapon. Surely Verlamer would have Shennen executed immediately for the attack.

  But the king only smiled. "Ah, the elegant Flayer," he said, twirling the long dagger in his fingers. "The prized weapon of a Blue Knight. It is such a flawless and deadly blade." He rose and held it up for the crowd. "Shennen Silverarrow fought well, and he made a beautiful throw in an effort to take my life. I commend him, even if it has earned him an execution."

  The crowd had been shocked into silence, but now some of them applauded. The king tossed the Flayer to one of his Guardians.

  Verlamer frowned. "That was far too quick and easy, Lannon. It appears I underestimated their skills. But what's done is done, and that duel is ended." He declared Shennen and Bekka to be the honorable victors and then ordered them escorted back to their cells.

  As they walked from the courtyard, Bekka was limping badly, blood soaking her bandage. But Shennen wasn't allowed to assist her. Shennen walked with his head bowed, clearly miserable over his failed assassination attempt.

  Verlamer sat back down. "That Shennen is quite a dangerous fellow, but I'll hold off on his execution for a while, while we discuss some issues. Perhaps there is a chance you can be a hero and save his life."