Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin

by Robert E. Keller

  "What a remarkable turn of events," said Jace. "The Divine Essence has given up a piece of itself to ensure the survival of Dremlock. I don't recall anything like this ever happening before. Frankly, I'm stunned!"

  "It is my greatest honor," Prince Vannas called out, "to have been chosen to bear this mighty gift--this weapon of all weapons. Now the shadows will flee before us like the night before the rising sun!"

  Cordus handed Vannas a black pouch to hold the White Flamestone and motioned for him to join Lannon and his friends. Then he took to reading a few passages from The Book of War--peaceful poetry in spite of the book's name that was meant to soothe and inspire. However, The Book of War was badly written to the point of being laughable:

  "Peace, Or No Peace?

  by Talm Fireleg

  A Leaf reaches out, to touch a like-veined heart,

  For the Tree of honor gives peace, where no peace was found,

  The Knight's brow is caked with sweat, the yellow frosting of toil,

  His Soul overly baked and boiled, a cake makers bungled lament,

  The eternal Boughs give shade so rest, a cool leaf to wipe your brow,

  To forge the peaceful Mind..."

  Someone in the crowd snickered and Cordus glared at them, before continuing on. The Book of War was an embarrassment--written in an age when bad poetry was held in high regard. Most of the poems were written by Knights who had far more skill with the blade than the pen.

  Vannas strode over to the Squires and nodded to Aldreya. "I see I'm in good company, my cousin. Now if only I had a horse!"

  Aldreya smiled. "I am in awe of you, cousin. The Divine Essence has truly blessed you. I would gladly surrender my horse to you."

  "And I would refuse it," said Vannas. "To date, you've done far more for Dremlock than I have."

  "Good to meet you," Jerret mumbled. He didn't appear impressed at all by the prince. He sat slouched in the saddle, his muscular arms folded across his chest. All Jerret seemed to care about was his training. It was an obsession that had grown to consume him--as if he were preparing for some great duel to the death and nothing else in life mattered. He'd gone from being a talented and lazy Squire to someone who could barely bring himself to rest.

  "Glad to have you along, Vannas," said Lannon, sitting taller in the saddle. Vannas turned and his eyes passed over Lannon and kept going. Lannon squirmed a bit, wondering if Vannas had failed to hear him or was ignoring him.

  "You must be Jace the Wanderer," said the prince, nodding to the tall man. "One of my protectors, and a fine warrior from what I've heard."

  "Lannon's Divine Shield," said Jace, "is now your Divine Shield as well. I was told you would be joining us. However, I had no idea you would be bearing such a great gift. Actually, I'm surprised Cordus choose to reveal it publicly. Now our foes will surely learn of it, taking away our element of surprise."

  Vannas smiled. "The High Council hopes our foes will be intimidated. Meanwhile, the true power of the White Flamestone remains hidden from them." He lowered his voice and added, "And, well, the Blood Legion spies found out about it rather quickly, unfortunately."

  Jace nodded. "As usual."

  Cordus started another poem:

  "Smell The Flowers, Not The Trolls

  by Blande Barrelchest

  The War is blue, no it is green,

  The Wind sings true, but our foes are liars,

  The Dawn comes bright, to nag the tainted soul,

  But the peaceful Soul is not nagged..."

  People in the crowd glanced at each other in amusement. Sadly, it was a Lord Knight's duty and tradition to read poems from The Book of War when an army of Knights was leaving Dremlock.

  Vannas nodded to Lannon. "Good to meet you as well, Lannon Sunshield. I've heard of your deeds, and I'm impressed by them."

  Lannon bowed. "Thank you, Vannas."

  A white horse--one of the finest in Dremlock--was led over for Vannas. He swung smoothly into the saddle, then smiled at Lannon. "I suspect we will become good friends. I pledge to guard your back."

  "And I pledge to guard yours," Lannon said. He still felt a bit of jealously, but Vannas had put him at ease. Lannon was grateful that someone else would now share his terrible burden.

  Vannas seemed engulfed in an aura of importance, and Lannon couldn't help but immediately think of him as a leader. That aura bordered on arrogance yet commanded great respect.

  "Would you address me as Prince Vannas henceforth?" He winked at Lannon. "One stipulation of my coming to Dremlock is that I'm allowed to retain my title and be addressed with respect."

  Lannon was overcome for a moment by annoyance and couldn't speak. Then he found his voice. "Of course, Prince Vannas."

  "Thank you, my friend," said the prince. He smiled at Aldreya. "You may still address me as cousin if you like. I find it charming."

  "Glad to have you along, Vannas," said Shennen. "The gift you bear gives me hope that we will survive our journey north."

  "We will do more than survive," said Vannas. "I promise you that we will utterly vanquish our foes. The power I bear is stronger than anything you can imagine. It makes Lannon's Eye of Divinity seem like a magician's cheap illusion. This is a new day for Dremlock."

  Lannon wondered why Shennen didn't have to refer to him as Prince Vannas, and his annoyance grew. Also, he felt like Vannas had just tried to diminish Lannon's importance. It was a petty thought, but it nagged Lannon nonetheless. He felt as if he had just been slapped in the face. Yet Vannas likely spoke the truth. How long had the Birlote prince been training in secrecy to wield the White Flamestone, and just how powerful was the device? A gift from the Divine Essence surely had to be extraordinary. Lannon was certain the answers would be revealed on their journey, as he fully expected ambushes and assassination attempts.

  It was another two hours before the army departed and at last rode off through Darkender Tunnel to the sounds of battle horns that rang out from the Great Wall. As they made their way down the mountain, the parade of Knights received many cheers from gathered crowds along the road. Everyone in Silverland and the lands beyond knew that Dremlock was going to war. Every king and lord was on edge, their spies out gathering information.

  Vannas rode next to Lannon, and the prince spent much time waving to people. Feeling overshadowed, Lannon took to waving as well. But Lannon didn't feel comfortable drawing attention to himself, so he stopped. Lannon reminded himself that he was not a prince and wasn't required to act like one.

  "What a grand day this is, my friend," Vannas said to Lannon. "Can you feel it in your blood? We ride for the fate of Dremlock!"

  "Yes, it is exciting," said Lannon, though his tone was subdued. He wanted to feel what Vannas was feeling, but the thought of riding north and confronting Vorden and the Blood Legion terrified him. Also, with Vannas now wielding some great power from the Divine Essence, Lannon actually feared for Vorden's life. Lannon had been hoping to free Vorden of the gauntlet and bring the device back to Dremlock. But Vannas would surely attempt to kill Vorden. The impending situation put a heavy burden on Lannon's shoulders. Vannas was a Birlote prince and a warrior who fought for honor. He would gleefully use his power to slay Dremlock's foes. But for Lannon it wasn't that simple. He was always seeking a way to save everyone, even when he knew it was impossible to do so. It left him weary to the core.

  And if Vannas and his mysterious White Flamestone weren't enough, the massive army of Divine Knights was bent on bloodshed. The reality was that they weren't going on this quest to save Vorden and Taris--but to strike a terrible blow to the Blood Legion. This was strictly a war party, and the only topic on the agenda was bitter combat. Lannon was certain, however, that Furlus Goblincrusher was thinking of his friend and fellow Tower Master Taris Warhawk and would do everything in his power to return the Hand of Tharnin to Dremlock.

  It was a pleasant day for riding, with the soothing fall breeze taking the edge off the heat. The Knights seemed in good spirits, chattin
g and laughing, their colored sashes, banners, and armor matching the fall leaves around them. They followed the trail to the base of the mountain and then took Boulder Road that led north through a wooded valley. The scent of pine filled the valley air. Lannon was certain the Knights' confidence stemmed from acquiring the White Flamestone. He knew his own confidence had increased since Dremlock's new weapon had been revealed. With the Divine Essence firmly on their side, surely they couldn't lose. How could their foes, (the Hand of Tharnin on their side or not) stand against the power of a god?

  That evening, after leaving the wooded valley they camped in a large, grassy field by the road. Many watch fires were lit, over which fresh meat was roasted. These northern lands were sparsely inhabited by people, and wildlife was everywhere. With a dozen Rangers to hunt for them, fresh meat was easy to come by.

  Lannon, Vannas, and the Divine Shield were gathered around one fire, along with Furlus (who seemed to consume more meat than the rest of the Divine Shield put together). The mood was festive--almost as if they were going to some grand celebration rather than war with an ancient enemy.

  "We have a bard with us somewhere," said Furlus, wiping grease from his beard. "Bazil Bearpaw. Shall I summon him for some entertainment? Tonight, we will not speak of anything concerning our mission. Tonight we celebrate."

  Trenton chewed at a small piece of meat and took a sip of water. "I don't like Bazil. I find him quite annoying."

  "You would!" said Furlus, scowling at the Investigator. "No sense of humor. None at all. When is the last time you had a good laugh?"

  Trenton glowered at the Grey Dwarf, but said nothing.

  "He's a fine bard," said Shennen. "I'll go and find him." The Blue Knight rose, a lean shadow in the firelight. "I want to scout around a bit, anyway."

  "Relax, Shennen," said Furlus. "Sit, and have some food and drink. No threat exists here, amongst all of these Knights."

  Hesitantly, Shennen did as Furlus ordered, his face sullen. He grabbed an apple from a bowl and crunched into it, yet his eyes gazed restlessly beyond the firelight.

  "What's bothering you, my friend?" Furlus asked.

  "I don't know," said Shennen. "I feel like something is watching us--perhaps from the night sky."

  Furlus waved his hand dismissively. "It could be a Blood Legion spy. What does it matter? We're going to war. Let them spy on us all they want and prepare a thousand ambushes. Our own spies will guide us through to victory. They want war, they expect war, and war is what they will get!"

  Shennen nodded. "True enough. But whatever I am sensing still troubles me. I...I have been on edge since Willan's death."

  Furlus bowed his head, a look of pity on his face. "You need to quit blaming yourself for that. Both you and Willan thought it was the right choice. I might have made the same choice. It's just the way of things."

  "I care not to speak of this," said Shennen, his face reddening a bit. "Especially in front of the Squires. I shouldn't have brought up the subject."

  "Then shut your mouth and eat," said Furlus.

  "I need my mouth open to eat," said Shennen, managing a smile. He seized a flask of ale. "Let's celebrate then. Where's that bard?"

  Furlus chuckled and patted Shennen on the back. "Hey Bard!" he bellowed. "Get over here!"

  "Why don't we have a duel?" said Jerret, standing up. "We could fashion some wooden swords from sticks and have a contest."

  "Predictable request," said Trenton, "from a Squire who doesn't seem to know how to take a break from training."

  Jerret shrugged. "Aren't Squires supposed to train?"

  "In a reasonable fashion, yes," said Trenton. "Not like some obsessed fool. I think you've let this Divine Shield business overcome your common sense. I should give you a duel and leave you with a healthy bruise for your troubles."

  Jerret rolled his eyes. "Anyway, who wants to have a duel--other than a Green Knight who would obviously be too much for me to handle?"

  Trenton sneered and mumbled "Coward."

  Jerret winced at the insult, but said nothing. It was clear that in spite of his new confidence, Jerret feared the Investigator. Aside from being a Green Knight, Trenton also harbored the bizarre ability to transform into a raging wolf monster.

  "Jerret isn't a coward, Trenton," said Furlus, slapping the ground. His grey eyes, set beneath his drooping brows, twinkled with amusement. "Look at him standing there fearlessly, ready for combat! Someone should give him his duel. What about you, Jace? I think you could use some practice."

  "I would rather eat, smoke my pipe, and go to sleep," said Jace, yawning. "So count me out of any duels."

  Vannas grinned. "I wouldn't mind a duel. What about you, Lannon?"

  Lannon shrugged. "I'm not much for that sort of thing."

  "I think it's a good idea," said Furlus, winking. He called some Rangers over and sent them to gather sticks from a nearby stretch of woods.

  Jerret tied his long blond hair back in a ponytail and then stretched his muscles, grinning. "I'll take on anywhere here, including the Knights!" He glanced nervously at Trenton. "Except for the Green Knights, of course."

  Shennen laughed. "So you would battle me as well, Jerret? I'm not yet a Green Knight. And how do you think you would fare?"

  "Not very well," said Jerret, still grinning.

  That brought out booming laughter from everyone.

  "But I think I can handle any Squire with ease," said Jerret. "And some of the Knights too. I'm serious."

  Vannas rose. The Birlote prince stood several inches taller than Jerret. "Is that so? I know a thing or two about swordplay, so perhaps it would not be as easy to defeat me as you think. I would be happy to partake in a duel with you."

  "No, not you," Furlus muttered, motioning for Vannas to sit. "Can't risk you taking a blow to the head should Jerret get carried away. You either, Lannon. Anyone else is welcome to give it a try. The winner gets a flask of high quality Olrog ale. Of course, if the Squire wins, he has to wait until he is a Knight to drink it."

  "Olrog ale?" said Jerret. "That's worth fighting for!"

  The Rangers returned and tossed some sword-sticks on the ground. A large circle of onlookers soon formed around the fire.

  Jerret lifted a heavy stick and looked around. "So who will it be?"

  A young, arrogant Brown Knight named Melran Lighthammer stepped forward to cheers from the onlookers. He tossed his shield aside. He was a few years older than Jerret, but about the same size. "With all due respect, Jerret," Melran said, "no Squire can beat a fully trained Knight. Not in fair combat. But if you want to learn a lesson, I'm ready to teach it!"

  The onlookers boomed laughter.

  "An undersized Brownie and an oversized Squire," mused Thrake Wolfaxe, raising his ale flask. "I think it's a perfect match."

  "You'll likely get your head smashed in, Jerret," said Furlus, chuckling. "I admire your spirit, but Melran is right. You're not experienced enough or strong enough to defeat a Divine Knight."

  Jerret's lips tightened. "We'll see about that."

  The sword-sticks clattered together several times, as Squire and Knight circled each other. Jerret took a blow to the leg that made him hop, but he stayed on his feet. Melran sighed and seemed to lower his guard, as if Jerret were not worth his time. Jerret lunged in and caught Melran with a solid blow to the shoulder that drove the arrogant look off his face.

  Melran's eyes widened. "Oh, so you want to make this a little more serious, huh?" His face red with embarrassment and anger, he launched a flurry of blows at Jerret. Jerret blocked all but one that glanced off his arm.

  Again they circled each other, sweat dripping from their brows, and now Melran was alert to Jerret's skill and in full defensive posture.

  "You're looking a bit scared, Melran," Jerret mocked. "I can see it in your eyes."

  The onlookers roared laughter.

  Melran's face twisted into a sneer. "Keeping talking, Squire. When all is said and done, you're going to have some shiny ne
w bruises."

  They clashed again, trying to overpower each other with brute strength. Knights were typically much stronger than Squires, but Jerret managed to push Melran backwards a bit. For a moment, Melran looked horrified at the prospect that Jerret might defeat him--a shame that was certain to torment him for a long time.

  Then a new light sprang into Melran's eyes--a light of power that further separated Knights from Squires. Now charged with sorcery, Melran drove Jerret back and knocked his legs out from under him. Jerret started to rise, and Melran raised the stick for a downward swing, his face contorted with rage.

  "Enough!" Furlus muttered. "Jerret fought well."

  Melran bowed to Furlus and helped Jerret to his feet. Even though he'd lost, Jerret had a broad grin on his face. "Get a bit more than you bargained for, Melran? I'm guessing you weren't expecting that, right?"

  Melran nodded and managed a smile. "You've done well with your training, Jerret. You'll make a fine Knight."

  They clasped hands.

  "It was a good duel," said Furlus, "but that's enough for tonight. Melran gets the ale. But, Jerret, you should be proud of yourself."

  Jerret nodded and wiped sweat from his face. "Thank you, Master Furlus. I just wanted to test myself. I knew I was going to lose."

  Furlus' face darkened. He pointed at Jerret. "Don't ever assume you will lose, Squire, no matter what foe you face." He took a huge swig of ale and half of it ran down his beard. He cursed.

  Jerret bowed. "I'll bear that in mind, Master Furlus."

  "You fought well, Jerret," said Aldreya.

  "Yes, nicely done," said Lannon.

  "I'm impressed by your skill, Jerret," said Vannas. "However, I'm still convinced I would have defeated you."

  Jerret nodded. "Maybe so, Prince Vannas. But you're not the one I want to defeat." His eyes seemed distant. "The one I must defeat..."

  "What do you mean?" said Lannon, suddenly feeling chilled.

  But Jerret didn't reply.

  Loud snoring reached their ears from Jace. The giant, cloaked man had been sound asleep through the duel, and his ale flask had tipped over.