Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows

by Robert E. Keller

  Thrake waited in silence for a moment, then rose and left.

  ***

  Lannon lay awake in the tent after everyone else had gone to sleep. He kept the lantern lit, fearing the dark. Shennen's pale, grinning face kept flashing through his mind. He wondered how the other Squires could sleep. The four boys lay side by side and the two girls lay across from them. At one point, Lannon sent the Eye of Divinity outside the tent to investigate and found to his relief that Thrake and three other Knights were standing guard. However, he had no idea when Thrake's shift would end and Shennen would take over.

  But as the hours slipped past and Lannon checked again to find that the same four Knights were still standing guard, he began to grow drowsy. He found himself slipping in and out of sleep.

  Suddenly, Lannon awoke to discover the interior of the tent in total darkness. Panic surged through him and he tried to summon the Eye, but something was choking off his power. He tried to move but found himself paralyzed. He couldn't even cry out for help.

  And then a dagger erupted into purple flames, to reveal the bearded face of Thrake Wolfaxe, who stood over Lannon. Relief flooded through the Squire, for Lannon was certain Thrake was in the process of rescuing him from some servant of the Deep Shadow. But a cold shock tore through Lannon as he looked into Thrake's eyes. The Red Knight's face was twisted with malice, his eyes bearing a purple hue. His forehead and cheeks seemed scaly.

  "Relax, Lannon," Thrake whispered. "No one knows I'm here. Three Knights lie sleeping outside, and the other Squires are hopelessly asleep in here. They won't awaken to save you. How do I know? Because I made them sleep." He raised his free hand, which had dark claws protruding from the fingertips, and a purple fog surrounded it. "I am the Dragon Knight, Lannon."

  Lannon felt anger at himself along with his panic. He couldn't believe that once again he was lying helpless in a tent, about to be assassinated. He also felt deep sorrow and could barely believe Thrake was a puppet of Tharnin.

  "I have a voice in my head," said Thrake, "that whispers its will. My life has guidance now and a grand purpose. Oh, and I have the White Flamestone as well, which I will take to the Blood Legion." Thrake held up the pouch containing the gem, then tucked it into a pocket of his fur cloak. "But I hate you so much, Lannon, that I cannot leave without killing you."

  Lannon had been in this situation before, but this time the sorcery that held him was too powerful to overcome. He simply couldn't connect to the Eye. The feeling of helplessness was maddening, the realization that he could only lay there and watch as Thrake finished him off.

  "This will be a bitter end for you," said Thrake. He touched the burning blade to Lannon's throat, and Lannon's skin erupted with agony. "I don't know why I hate you so much. I hate you even more than that vile Birlote Shennen."

  Suddenly, Thrake cried out and stiffened, the dagger pulling away from Lannon's throat. The point of a long, gleaming dagger--a Flayer--now jutted out of Thrake's chest. A face appeared over his shoulder in the light of the flames, pale and with cold, focused eyes. The shadows had come to life in the tent and struck Thrake from behind, piercing stout armor and the beating heart beneath. Lannon's savior, and Thrake's doom, was now revealed.

  It was Shennen.

  In spite of the blade in his heart, Thrake rose and whirled around, ripping the dagger from Shennen's hand in the process. He lashed out with clawed fingers and knocked Shennen out through the tent door. Then he turned back toward Lannon, the blade still protruding out of his chest.

  But Lannon, who'd been released from Thrake's sorcery, was already on his feet, the Eye of Divinity surging forth. He cried out a warning to the camp, as loud as he could yell it, as he seized Thrake with the Eye. Thrake's resistance to Lannon's power was enormous, and for a moment he stood his ground, his claws reaching for Lannon's throat. Finally, Lannon managed to shove him out into the moonlight, where Knights were already rushing from their tents. Lannon stepped out after him. Four Knights lay unconscious in the snow, including Shennen--who had blood dripping from his head.

  As the Knights closed in on Thrake, he hissed in hatred and drove at Lannon with his axe--even as a blazing arrow from an archer's bow lodged in his back. Lannon drew his Dragon sword and channeled the Eye into it on instinct, blocking a downward stroke from Thrake's huge axe. Without the power of the Eye, Thrake's axe would have smashed Lannon's blade aside with ease and brought Lannon to ruin. Instead, it glanced away in a shower of sparks.

  Lannon hesitated, wondering how he might take the giant prisoner. But the Divine Knights had other ideas, and their blazing weapons tore into Thrake, bringing him to his knees. He hissed and bellowed, steam emerging from his nostrils. Then at last he slumped to the snow in death.

  Chapter 5: A Shadow in the Moonlight

  Taris Warhawk had emerged from his tent, and he stood gazing at Lannon with a look of sorrow on his face. "Are the other Squires okay?"

  "I think they're only asleep," said Lannon, his breath frosty in the night air. He gazed down at Thrake's body, overwhelmed with shock. He wondered how Jerret was going to react when he discovered the truth about Thrake. Lannon found himself enraged at the Deep Shadow for corrupting such a great Knight, and he vowed to make Tharnin pay for what it had done.

  Taris sent a healer into the tent to check on the Squires, while another healer examined Shennen and the other unconscious Knights.

  Shennen awoke with a groan. He pushed the healer's probing hand aside and rose, wiping blood from his head. "I suspected it was Thrake all along," he said to Taris, "after I caught him visiting the Dragon bones in Dorok's Hand. But I couldn't prove it. I allowed others to think it was me who was the assassin, in order to let Thrake gain false confidence."

  "I never thought you were the assassin," said Taris. "But I didn't believe Thrake was, either. I admit I was completely fooled."

  Lannon was astonished that Thrake had somehow been able to deceive Taris. It seemed impossible. But Lannon reminded himself that even Taris was mortal and couldn't see the truth in everything.

  "I didn't want to believe it either," said Shennen. "But it is the way of things. We have lost a great Knight to the Deep Shadow."

  The healer emerged from the tent and informed Taris that the Squires were in a heavy sleep but not injured.

  "And the White Flamestone?" asked Taris.

  Shennen searched Thrake and then held up the black pouch. "Still in our possession."

  "This could have been a disaster," said Taris, shaking his head. "Had Lannon been assassinated and the Flamestone taken..."

  "Indeed," said Shennen. "I didn't know Thrake was capable of putting three of our best Knights to sleep with such ease--that he'd been granted such power by the Deep Shadow. It seems it was instinct alone that caused me to awaken and leave my tent. When I saw the three guards lying in the snow, I feared the worst. The other Knights, who were supposed to check on Thrake, must have never left their tents. I assume we will find them under the influence of his sorcery, sound asleep. It pains me to say this, but Thrake nearly succeeded in his plan."

  "But he didn't," said Taris, "because of you, my friend. I know it hurt you deeply to be accused by rumor of being the assassin."

  Shennen bowed his head. "It did, and it also made me angry. But now that the truth is revealed, I only feel empty inside. I've lost a good friend, and Dremlock has lost one its best warriors. This is a sad night for us all."

  "Then Thrake obviously lost the duel on purpose," said Taris, with a sour expression. "I should have listened to you, Shennen."

  Shennen shrugged. "You had every right to trust Thrake. His heart seemed incorruptible. Yet when I saw him slip during the duel, I could tell it was intentional. That left no doubt in my mind that he was our enemy."

  Trenton approached them, looking frustrated. "I knew we should never have accepted that contest. My instincts warned me against it. But how could we have known Thrake was a traitor?"

  "We likely could not have known," said Jac
e, as he stepped from his tent and stretched his long arms. He yawned. "A Dragon Knight is able to conceal itself quite well--though Lannon might have been able to see the truth had he been looking for it. We are quite lucky that Shennen was alert to Thrake's schemes. Had Thrake escaped this camp, he would have grown into an extremely powerful adversary and Dremlock would have paid dearly for its ignorance."

  Shennen sighed. "You were right about the Dragon bones, Jace. I suspected it early on, but didn't want to admit it to myself. In a way, I believe the bones are influencing me too--as I still long to study them even after this incident. However, I still have full control over my actions."

  "You proved that by saving my life," said Lannon, bowing to the Blue Knight. "Had it not been for you, I would be dead by now."

  Taris' hands knotted into fists, his usual calm demeanor shattered. "The duel was unfair and shall not be honored. I will send a messenger to inform the Blood Legion that Tharnin's puppet has met his doom. Then we ride forth at dawn!"

  Taris called a meeting in the camp. Tired, somber Knights gathered in a circle around the sorcerer in the moonlight. Taris stood next to Thrake's body, his face lost in shadow beneath the hood of his cloak. Lannon's fellow Squires were still asleep thanks to Thrake's sorcery, and Jace had slipped back into his tent. Lannon realized Jace had been rather quiet lately, but as a member of the Divine Shield, Jace should have been present for the meeting.

  "A great Knight has fallen to the will of the Deep Shadow," said Taris. "This is a reminder that no one is immune to the corruption of Tharnin. It is foolish and arrogant to believe otherwise. We must hold a funeral immediately and burn Thrake's remains, as they could still be infested with dark sorcery."

  The Knights gathered wood from a grove of trees and built a funeral pyre. They laid Thrake atop it. Taris stood before the pyre, stone dagger in hand. "Thrake cannot be honored in the usual way," he said, "because he succumbed to the Deep Shadow. Therefore, only his axe and armor will be returned to Dremlock for burial. His ashes will be left here in the snow. It troubles me to do this, but we must obey the Sacred Laws."

  Taris stood in silence for a moment and then added, "But Thrake served Dremlock well and we should remember him as the noble warrior and friend we all knew. We should speak fondly of him." With that, Taris lit the pyre with his burning dagger and stepped back, his head bowed.

  A long period of silence followed. Lannon gazed at Thrake's body as the flames rose up around it, the finality of death heavy in his heart. This was truly the end of Thrake Wolfaxe and nothing would remain but ashes. It had all happened so quickly that Lannon was still in shock.

  Lannon wondered how many other Knights of Dremlock were infested with the Deep Shadow and plotting his doom. Thrake had been able to hide it easily, even from the Eye of Divinity. For all his supposed ability to see deeper truths, Lannon felt blinded by the darkness of Tharnin and very alone.

  ***

  The next day, Lannon had the unpleasant task of explaining to his friends the grim fate that had befallen Thrake. The Squires awoke at dawn and seemed free of any lingering affects of Thrake's sorcery, so Lannon told them the tale as they looked on in shock and dismay.

  Jerret at first seemed unwilling to believe Lannon's version of what had happened. He paced around in the tent and shouted irrational accusations at Lannon, suggesting Lannon was the one under the influence of Tharnin. Lannon simply sat quietly and didn't respond, knowing Jerret needed time to come to terms with the reality of the situation.

  But once Jerret saw the ashes from the funeral pyre and had a talk with Taris Warhawk, he came to accept Lannon's story as truth--though he withdrew inside himself and refused to talk to anyone after that.

  Jerret knelt in the snow before the ashes for a long time beneath a grey sky, his head bowed. Lannon and the others tried to console him but Jerret motioned them away, tears in his eyes. At last they left him alone to grieve as the tents were taken down and packed away for travel.

  And then they were riding toward Blombalk again, leaving behind only dark ashes and a few charred logs in the snow. Jerret's expression was bitter, and he wouldn't look at the other Squires. By the time they stopped for a quick lunch, however, he revealed his thoughts.

  "It doesn't make any sense," Jerret said. "Thrake was too strong to be a puppet of Tharnin, and he never showed any signs. Something is very wrong here, and I'm going to find out what it is."

  "I think you're mistaken," said Lannon. "I find it hard to believe too. Even Taris does. But the truth is the truth, and you need to accept that."

  "I don't accept it," said Jerret, "because I know in my heart that Thrake could never turn to evil like that. Strange how everyone has so easily forgotten the kind of Knight he was. Where is your loyalty?"

  "No one has forgotten who Thrake was," said Aldreya. "But at some point he made a dire mistake and the Deep Shadow found its way into his heart. Thrake was human and he had weaknesses, just like all of us."

  "And what about Shennen?" Jerret said, in a loud voice. "What about his bizarre behavior? Has everyone forgotten about that?"

  Shennen turned in the saddle and gazed at Jerret. "Believe what you want about me, Squire. Your grief blinds you to reason. But Lannon knows it was Thrake who stood over him with a drawn dagger--preparing to inflict pain and death. And it was I who saved Lannon from that fate."

  Jerret's face was sullen and defiant.

  "Let it go, Jerret," said Vannas. "Thrake's story is ended and nothing can be done about it. But you still have a bright future at Dremlock."

  "Leave me alone!" Jerret snarled. "I don't need any stupid lectures from an arrogant prince. I'll figure things out for myself."

  At last Jace spoke up. The giant, purple-cloaked sorcerer rode next to Jerret. "Remember Thrake's lessons and draw strength from them, young man. And bear in mind that Thrake is in some elite company."

  Jerret gazed up at Jace with a curious expression. "What do you mean by elite company?"

  Jace smiled briefly and said, "Some of the greatest Divine Knights in history have fallen to the Deep Shadow. The Dark Watchmen were amongst them--those Sword Masters and elite guardians of Dremlock who once formed the Sacred Circle. The Dark Watchmen--who were widely believed to be incorruptible. They all succumbed to the evil of Tharnin and were destroyed by it. Do you believe that Thrake was stronger than the legendary Dark Watchmen?"

  Jerret looked away, his eyes full of sorrow.

  Jace fixed his gaze on Lannon. "The Dark Watchmen were the most blessed servants of the Divine Essence. The Eye of Divinity was theirs to command, and they learned to use it with great focus. They were going to at last defeat the servants of Tharnin and seal the portals forever. But one by one the darkness took them, and they nearly brought down Dremlock Kingdom."

  Lannon wasn't sure what to say, so he kept quiet, feeling uncomfortable. He could sense the other Squires looking at him as well.

  Jace's gaze lingered on Lannon for a moment, and Lannon wondered if Jace was trying to prove something to him in the mysterious way that sorcerers sometimes gave lessons. But Lannon had already been warned about the fate of the Dark Watchmen and didn't feel Jace's lesson was needed.

  Lannon rode up alongside Shennen and motioned to him. The two moved slightly apart from the others so they could talk in private.

  "I'm sorry I doubted you, Master Shennen," Lannon said. "I will admit I was convinced you were in league with Tharnin."

  "You had every right to believe that," said Shennen. "I was deliberately antagonistic toward you and others." He ran his fingers over his pale forehead. "And the sudden change to my skin tone has been startling to some. The Dragon bones affected my appearance, but not my will or spirit. On the other hand, they had no obvious effect on Thrake's appearance--but somehow altered his will and spirit. The Deep Shadow is indeed a strange foe."

  "When you threw me into that wall," said Lannon, "I thought you were either trying to harm me or were being very careless. It seemed out of cha
racter for you. After that, I didn't trust you anymore."

  Shennen raised his eyebrows. "Out of character? That was actually a valuable lesson for you. You learned how easily you could be defeated by the right foe--that the Eye of Divinity can't protect you against every attack."

  "You almost crushed my skull," said Lannon, feeling some of the old anger return. "I barely had time to save myself."

  "I knew you would not be harmed," said Shennen.

  "How could you have possibly known that?" asked Lannon.

  Shennen frowned. "I am a fully trained Knight. You are a relatively inexperienced Squire. Do not question my knowledge. If it bothers you that much, you should call a meeting and let Taris deal with it. I'm sure the High Council wouldn't be happy with me roughing up their prized Squire. But know this--I will be very disappointed in you for not recognizing the value of the lesson. I never intended to harm you. I intended to save you."

  "Save me from what?" asked Lannon.

  "From a foe like Timlin Woodmaster," said Shennen. "Timlin was an unusually talented Blue Squire, and now he is infested with the power of the Deep Shadow. Sooner or later you may end up in a duel with him. You will try to fight him as you did Vorden, and he will cut you to pieces."

  Lannon suspected Shennen was right. "Then how could I win?"

  "As I told you earlier," said Shennen, "you must become a fully trained Blue Knight and learn to channel the Eye of Divinity through your sword. You must become like the Dark Watchmen of old in learning to focus your power in ways that will enhance your combat skills."

  Lannon wondered if Shennen had lost his wits. "But the Dark Watchmen turned to evil. Didn't you hear the story Jace just told? And Taris has warned me as well not to follow the path they took."

  "I know the story," said Shennen. "And I understand Taris' concerns. But I fear greatly for your survival. Your relentless foes will eventually catch you off guard and kill you. You are the most hated foe of Tharnin--because you are a living symbol of the power of the Divine Essence. The White Flamestone is merely an object--as mighty as it is--but you are alive and easily despised. If you do not train yourself as a Dark Watchman, I'm convinced that you will soon be dead."