"It must be a bleak existence," said Lannon, "to simply hold shut a door. Wouldn't they grow bored and weary of it?"
"Boredom is a mortal perspective," said Taris. "These shades do what they must, without regret, and the passage of time means nothing to them. The original goal of the Dark Watchmen was to close all the portals to Tharnin, thus defeating the Deep Shadow forever. So by keeping this portal sealed, they have--at least in part--completed that goal."
"But they failed in life," said Lannon.
"Yes, their arrogance destroyed them," said Taris. "They had a chance to defeat the Eye of Tharnin and rid its influence from our world forever. Yet their power and influence became so great they believed themselves invincible. And that is why they fell to the will of Tharnin. And that is what you must avoid."
Lannon shuddered. "I definitely want to avoid their fate. I don't plan to spend eternity stuck inside a door."
"Don't make light of their great sacrifice," said Taris, frowning, "for these six have indeed redeemed themselves. They continue to battle Tharnin every day from beyond the grave. These are your brothers, Lannon. The sixteen Watchmen in Dremlock Cemetery are still cursed and evil. Their bitter shades linger near their bodies, haunting the tombs. They have not yet found a way to break free of the Deep Shadow. But these six were stronger and repented their evil--and Tharnin slew them as punishment. They are truly the last of the Dark Watchmen. These are grim and relentless souls who have no mercy on anyone who tries to pass beyond this door, but if possible, they will guide you."
"Can I talk to the shades?" asked Lannon. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to, but he felt there was no harm in asking.
"Not now," said Taris. "It would be too dangerous. When you're more confident in your skills, you may attempt to communicate with them--if you have a good reason for doing so. But even then it might be very risky."
Lannon sighed. "I'm finding out that I have a lot to learn."
"Yes," said Taris, "but I'm very impressed with the progress you've made so far, especially considering your age and experience. I expected this door to overwhelm you--perhaps drive you to your knees in despair. I knew there was even a slim chance it might scar you for life or make you bitter. Yet you stand there unwavering, holding the sorcery in check."
"Thank you," said Lannon. He was growing weary from using the Eye, however, and he felt the illusion might soon break through his defenses. "And I appreciate you bringing me here and showing me these things."
"It was inevitable," said Taris. "But now we must return to camp and sleep. Tell no one of this excursion. In fact, take a vow of secrecy!"
"I swear to keep it secret," said Lannon, "by the Divine Essence and the Sacred Laws, until you release me from this vow."
"You will long to return here," said Taris, "but you must resist. Do not come back to this tower until you know you are ready. Next time, I won't be with you. You will come alone, and if you're not prepared, you will die here alone. This could either be a second home for you--or your tomb."
"When I return," said Lannon, "I will be prepared."
Taris gazed at him sternly, then nodded. "You are progressing well, Lannon Sunshield. There may yet be hope for Dremlock Kingdom."
Chapter 8: Trouble in Hethos
Taris was right--Lannon did long to go back to the Watchmen's Keep. After he returned to his tent, he lay awake wishing he were still in the tower and unlocking more of its secrets. The items he'd gained were not greatly exciting--nothing magical, though the Glaetherin throwing star was interesting--and he sensed there were greater treasures concealed within the keep, protected by traps and sorcery. But it wasn't the prospect of ancient treasures that filled Lannon's heart with longing--it was the feeling that he'd left his home behind.
"Where were you?" Lothrin asked. He was the only Squire still awake. He lay on his side, his green eyes gleaming with a knowing look in the lantern light. "That old tower?"
"I'm forbidden to discuss it," Lannon replied.
Lothrin smiled. "I guessed as much."
"Why are you still awake?" asked Lannon, sensing Lothrin was distracted by something. "We should both be sleeping."
"Too much on my mind," said Lothrin, his voice a whisper. "It concerns the White Flamestone." He shut his eyes and fell silent.
Lannon waited patiently for Lothrin to explain.
Lothrin opened his eyes again. "I can see it so vividly in my mind when I close my eyes--as if it's actually right in front of me. Its pale glow seems to hold so many secrets. When I picked up the Flamestone after Vannas had dropped it, below the town of Elder Oak, it bonded to me. Its power filled me, inviting me to wield it. Since then I haven't been able to forget about it."
"But you must find a way to forget it," said Lannon, alarmed. "Dwelling on it won't do any good. It belongs to Prince Vannas."
"No," said Lothrin. "Vannas merely borrowed it. It belongs to the Divine Essence. Regardless, it became attached to me in that moment when it lay in my hands--almost as if it wanted to escape Vannas' clutches. It pained me greatly to return it to him."
"What will you do?" Lannon asked, fearing a conflict was brewing.
"Nothing," said Lothrin. "The prince has been charged with the task of wielding it, and it's not my place to interfere." Lothrin glanced at Vannas, who mumbled something in his sleep, as if he were dreaming. "But I believe the White Flamestone dreads my cousin's touch and the arrogant path he is on. I believe the Divine Essence might have made a grave error in choosing the prince."
"I hope you're wrong," said Lannon, but his instincts told him Lothrin spoke true. "Either way, you can't unlock its power as Vannas does. Otherwise, the Divine Essence would have chosen you instead of him."
"That's true," said Lothrin, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "The White Flamestone is much weaker in my hands. Vannas has extraordinary talent--but talent isn't everything. Though it hurts me to say it, the prince lacks the moral character to properly bear such a burden. I'm certain it will destroy him."
"So you believe the Flamestone should pass to you?" said Lannon.
"I don't know," said Lothrin. "Vannas' command of it is so far beyond mine, it would seem foolish for him to surrender it. Yet I fear greatly for his life and for the future of Dremlock. I will reveal my concerns to Taris."
"Good idea," said Lannon. "Taris will know what to do."
"I find this deeply unsettling," said Lothrin. "I didn't believe I could become obsessed with an object of power--even one as great as this Flamestone. Now I've had a taste of the terrible burden that Vannas bears. All I ever cared about growing up was wandering the forest, hunting and fishing, listening to the trees and observing the ways of animals. I thought my soul was pure and free--beyond the petty traps that snare other mortals. Yet now, after a single touch of the White Flamestone, I find myself tormented with longing."
"Perhaps you just need time to get over it," said Lannon. He tried to imagine what Lothrin was feeling, but found he could not.
"That's what I'm hoping," said Lothrin. "Otherwise, I will have to simply endure it and move on. A Squire of Dremlock has no time for longing or regrets. I don't know why the White Flamestone bonded to me like that, but I doubt it was simply to torture me. The reason will eventually be revealed."
Prince Vannas suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, his hand latching onto his cloak where the Flamestone was concealed in its pouch. He started to cry out but stopped himself, his breath rushing out in relief. "Ah, I was only dreaming! It was a true nightmare. I dreamt that I had lost the White Flamestone and everyone closest to me had turned against me."
Lothrin smiled at the prince. "No one has turned against you, my cousin. You know I will always guard your back."
Vannas nodded. "And I know Lannon will too. I will return to sleep, knowing I'm safe in the company of such good friends."
As the prince lay back down and drifted off again, his hand still clutching the bulge in his cloak where the White Flamestone was held, his face was peac
eful in the soft lantern glow.
But Lothrin's face was troubled.
***
The next day, the Squires asked about Lannon's new items. They were especially impressed by the jeweled dagger. Prince Vannas recognized it as a Birlote weapon of royalty and seemed to hold it in high regard. He demanded to know how Lannon had acquired it. Lannon replied that he'd taken an oath of secrecy, and his friends respected that and didn't ask again. They didn't know about the Glaetherin throwing star, however, for Lannon kept it concealed in his cloak.
The journey around the western end of the Firepit Mountains was uneventful. The weather in Silverland was often unpredictable, and the spring rains and melting snows had given way to ice and frost. Winter refused to surrender its grip on the land, making the journey more miserable than anticipated.
At last they found themselves in the forestlands of Hethos, where trees often reached heights of more than two-hundred feet with trunks as wide as cabins. These ancient trees had never faced saw or axe because they were considered sacred to the people of Silverland and were believed to help hold back the Bloodlands. Some of them had lived for thousands of years--oaks, maples, and sprawling beeches with twisted trunks and silver leaves. This land was also known as the Kingsforest and in some places, the Northern Hills. Stone ruins of ancient keeps stood amongst the trees or protruded from snowy hillsides. Large snowflakes were falling, covering the massive limbs of the trees and settling over the hills. Farms stood here and there in valleys, smoke rising from chimneys. The beauty of Hethos was captivating, especially with the silver snowflakes swirling through the air.
At one point, Hethos had been swarming with Goblins, led by the Goblin Lords that seemed invincible at the time. But After Lannon had supplied Dremlock with the knowledge of how to defeat the Lords, the tables had quickly turned and many of the Goblins had been killed or driven back into the Bloodlands. Since then, Hethos had become a far more peaceful land.
But there was trouble to be found in Hethos still. A farmer and his teenage daughter made a desperate appeal to the Knights. The farmer approached them on foot, a bent-backed old man in a fur hat. He wore a thick, dirty cloak--displaying several colorful patches--to protect against the cold, along with a fur scarf that hung almost to his feet. He had a scruffy grey beard and an ugly scar where one eye used to be. His daughter was pretty, with curly blond hair and a ragged, dirty dress over which was thrown a fur cloak.
"Knights of Dremlock, help me!" the farmer pleaded, bowing to Taris. "A monstrous serpent has crawled into my barn and killed some of my cows. I fear that it will kill and eat all of them before it is done. My cows are all I have!"
"Describe this serpent," said Taris.
"It has the stink of evil," said the farmer, "of the Bloodlands." He shuddered. "It has a head like that of a woman. Made me sick just to look upon it. It started toward me, and I was forced to lock it in the barn."
"A Pit Crawler," said Trenton, disgust in his voice.
"Please help my father!" the daughter pleaded. "This winter has been terribly hard. If we lose our cattle, I don't know how we'll make due."
Taris sighed. "How far away is the farm?"
The man pointed to a small, nearby valley. "Just over there."
"We will help you," said Taris.
The farmer bowed, and then his daughter did the same. "We are grateful, oh Divine Knights," the old man said.
The company rode to the farm and gathered before the barn. An evil stench hung in the air. The sounds of distressed cattle came from within.
"Be careful!" the farmer cried. "If you startle the serpent, it might strike out at my cows."
"Let me handle it, Master Taris!" Jerret begged, drawing his broadsword.
Taris shook his head. "I think Lannon is best suited for this task."
"Why put Lannon in danger?" asked Trenton. "We have many Knights to choose from, and a Pit Crawler is nothing to fool with."
"This farmer can't afford to lose his cows," said Taris, with a shrug. "Lannon has the ability to contain the beast. And he needs the experience."
"I agree," said Shennen. "Let Lannon get some practice."
"Foolish," Trenton muttered. "You send a prized Squire when we have an army of fully trained Knights? I don't understand you, Taris."
Taris smiled. "You're not required to understand me." He gazed sternly at Lannon. "Go and kill the Pit Crawler."
Lannon bowed, then swung down from his horse. He approached the barn, where the farmer and his daughter stood, and drew his sword. The two gazed at Lannon with wide eyes, perplexed over why a mere teenage boy was being sent alone to deal with the monster in the barn.
"What are you going to do?" the farmer asked.
"I'll try to draw it out," said Lannon. He was nervous, for a Pit Crawler's bite was instant death. But he focused on his training, calming himself. This was what Divine Knights did--kill Goblins. It was something he was going to have to get used to. If he couldn't handle this task, he had no business remaining with Dremlock.
"I suggest standing back a bit," he said, "in case anything goes wrong."
The daughter smiled and blew Lannon a kiss. "You're truly a brave Knight, to do this task alone when you have an army looking on."
Lannon blushed, but stood a bit taller. "Thank you." He didn't care to explain that he was only a Squire. His gaze lingered on her pretty face for a moment, but then he forced himself to focus on his duties.
The farmer led his daughter some distance away, to where the Knights sat on horseback. Lannon walked to the barn door, which was sealed with a plank. He put his back to the wall beside the door. Then he slid the plank over with the Eye. He pushed the double-door open and waited, his sword raised and his heart pounding. One bite and he was dead, Eye of Divinity or not. Nothing could stop the venom of a Pit Crawler. In spite of his efforts to calm himself, he realized he was trembling slightly (fortunately not enough for anyone to notice).
When nothing happened, Lannon sent his gaze into the barn and examined the scene. Six cows were dead and partially eaten. The Pit Crawler was indeed huge, its body stretching nearly the full length of the barn. Its humanoid head was raised, its fangs dripping blood. It was staring at the open door. Meanwhile, the surviving cattle shuffled about in agitation in their stalls.
Gently, Lannon tugged on the Pit Crawler with the Eye--pulling it toward the door. The serpent-like body reared up higher and then began moving in Lannon's direction. The others watched in tense silence. Some of the archers--including Lothrin--had arrows trained on the door.
Slowly, cautiously, the humanoid head poked out of the barn, the jaws open wide and a forked tongue protruding from between the bloody fangs. Lannon considered whether or not to try to freeze the huge beast, but he realized if he failed, it might drive the Pit Crawler into a fury.
Instead, Lannon slashed at the thick neck with his sword, using the Eye to guide the blade and enhance the stroke. It was also a risky move, but it worked to perfection. The Dragon sword sliced through the beast's flesh and lopped off the head. As the head fell to the snow, the huge body went into a frenzy, coiling and twisting around horrifically. Lannon was forced to duck as the dying beast smashed itself against the barn, and then he dashed away from it.
He'd thought the stroke would kill the monster instantly, and it was unsettling to watch it continue to writhe around, its evil sorcery still active. Finally, the beast went still and Lannon breathed a sigh of relief.
The Knights applauded and cheered for Lannon. Then they dragged the Pit Crawler's body from the barn. The farmer came up and shook Lannon's hand, while the Knights burned the foul creature's corpse. The Pit Crawler's head was still alive, fangs ready to inject venom, and so Taris burned it to ash where it lay.
"Well done, Lannon!" said Vannas.
"Yes, great stroke," said Jerret, his eyes full of envy.
"You looked so confident!" said Aldreya. "I'm very impressed."
Daledus grinned. "Not bad, for a swordsman."
Lannon shrugged. "Thank you, but I wasn't as confident as I looked. I hate Pit Crawlers!"
"It just wanted some food," said Lothrin, looking amused.
"I'm sure it had more in mind than just a meal," said Aldreya, with a shudder. "Pit Crawlers are cunning and evil."
The farmer and his daughter came out of the barn with sad expressions on their faces. "Six cows dead," the farmer muttered. He clutched his head and groaned. "Now what will I do? I lost my wife to illness earlier in the winter, and now this... But I thank you for killing the beast."
Lannon was overcome by pity for the farmer and his daughter. He still had the bag of silver coins he'd found in the Watchmen's Keep, and he wanted to give it to them. He approached Taris and made his request.
"You wish to give them an entire bag of silver?" said Taris. "Silver that could go to Dremlock, to be used for the good of this land?"
"Yes," said Lannon.
"The answer is no," said Taris. "We are in a war with the Deep Shadow, and Dremlock does not have unlimited funds."
Lannon drew the jeweled dagger he'd found in the tower. "Then I will give them this. I'm sure it's worth some silver."
"It's worth a lot of silver," said Taris. "That is Birlote steel and real rubies, with a blade that will never dull and is sharper than a razor. A useful dagger for a Blue Squire. Are you sure you want to give up such a fine weapon?"
"If I'm allowed to, yes," said Lannon.
"The dagger is yours," said Taris, with a shrug. "You can give it to whoever you choose. But think carefully about this decision. That is a rare blade--given only by a Birlote king to honor a great deed."
"I will give it to the farmer," said Lannon, though he hated to part with it. "I still have my sword, and he needs it more than I do."
Taris nodded, looking pleased. "I'm impressed with your generosity, Lannon, in giving up something of great value for the sake of another. That is the quality of a Divine Knight. I would have given a share of the silver to the farmer, but the dagger is worth far more. Consider yourself a true hero this day."
Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows Page 14