Knights The Hand of Tharnin

Knights The Hand of Tharnin - By Robert E. Keller

Chapter 1: Promotion Day

"Less than a week to go until Promotion Day," Lannon Sunshield said apprehensively, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Lannon, Timlin, Aldreya, Vorden, and Jerret were seated in the East Tower Library. It was a badly needed rest day, as their training had been brutal recently.

As always, even in daylight hours, the Library was shadowy, the four Birlote torches failing to illuminate every corner. The Goblin statues glowered menacingly at the Squires from atop the bookshelves. One other Squire sat reading at another table--a young Birlote male named Gweskel Woodlord.

Vorden Flameblade looked up from a book he was reading. Like the other boys, Vorden, who'd turned seventeen years old recently (he was roughly a year older than the other Squires at the table) had grown taller and more muscular over his first eleven months at Dremlock Kingdom--but much about him had remained the same. His black hair was always kept neat (unlike Lannon's blond tangles), and he always conducted himself with the dignity of a young lord or prince. Yet underneath he was as wild as a wolf, always seeking something greater. He kept the other Squires on edge, leaving them constantly wondering what he would say or do next.

"I feel ready," Vorden said. "What about you, Lannon?"

Lannon shook his head. "I haven't done well at training recently. I just hope these tests aren't as tough as the Color Trials."

Aldreya Silverhawk laughed. Her striking green eyes, framed by curly silver hair, shone with amusement in the torchlight. "The Color Trials were nothing. These tests are going to be much more difficult."

"You've learned plenty of new skills, Lannon," Vorden pointed out. "Training as a Blue Squire is difficult, and you've done fine with it."

"True, but I'm fairly average," Lannon admitted. "I'm good with my sword, but nothing special. And I'm terrible with a bow."

"Just use the Eye of Divinity," said Jerret Dragonsbane. "If you did that, you could pass all the Trials with ease." Jerret grinned at Lannon, knowing Lannon would think his statement was folly. Jerret was as tall as Vorden, though less muscular. His blond hair was long and uneven in places. (Jerret cut his own hair, refusing to let any of Dremlock's barbers touch it for fear they would take too much off.)

"I can't do that," said Lannon. "It would be cheating. The Knights wouldn't allow it. Besides..."

"Besides what?" said Jerret.

Lannon shrugged. "It just wouldn't be fair." How could he explain to Jerret the deep fear he felt over the thought of using the Eye of Divinity? He couldn't even explain it to himself. The notion of summoning his power left him feeling paralyzed. Often, as of late, he would awaken sweating and trembling from nightmares he could not remember, the sensation of cold fingers on his throat. It appeared that Tenneth Bard--the Black Knight and sworn enemy of Dremlock Kingdom--had affected him deeply in some way he'd yet to recover from. Lannon felt he should talk to Taris Warhawk about it, for the sorcerer might be able to help him overcome his fear. But Lannon hadn't seen much of him lately. Taris seemed very busy and distracted, always in a hurry to get somewhere. So Lannon had decided to wait until after Promotion Day to take any action concerning the Eye of Divinity.

It had been over a month since Lannon had stood face to face with Tenneth Bard and lived to tell of it. The Knights had done well in beating back the Goblins, ever since Lannon had given them the knowledge they needed to finally kill the Goblin Lords. It looked as if Tenneth Bard's plans had been ruined. Yet shadows of doubt lingered on, hinting that the threat was not ended.

"I'm going to win the archery contest," Timlin Woodmaster said. "I'm the best in all of Dremlock." The short, skinny lad with the thin face smiled at the others' annoyed looks. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Maybe you will win," said Vorden, "but you shouldn't be so cocky about it, Timlin. And I plan to prove you wrong."

"Did you hear the latest news?" said Jerret. "The Knights retook the North Road from the Goblins, driving them deep into the Bloodlands. They reopened the Dead Goblin Inn."

"But who will keep the road maintained for travel?" said Lannon, thinking back to the horrible conditions he'd encountered on his journey to Dremlock. "I thought the Rangers vowed never to return there?"

"The Knights will maintain it from now on," said Jerret. "At least that's what I heard. I also heard that two Knights were killed in the tunnels below the Temple here at Dremlock--Hune Goldenhammer and Ellena Whitehelm."

"Tenneth Bard's minions must still be in the tunnels," said Vorden, in a low voice. "But I wonder where the Black Knight himself is? If he's dead, then why did his body vanish so quickly?"

"That's what everyone is asking," said Aldreya. "I know that's why Taris is so distracted lately. I think he has been spending all his time trying to find Tenneth Bard. I've heard that the Knights have been exploring the tunnels--going places they've never dared venture before. I'll bet a lot of Knights are going to die down there."

"They need you, Lannon," said Jerret. "You should use the Eye of Divinity to help them find Tenneth Bard."

Lannon shuddered. "Listen, Jerret, I don't want to talk about that right now. Just forget I even have the Eye."

"Why?" said Jerret. "What's wrong with you lately? You have a great ability and it should be used."

"That's enough, Jerret," Vorden said, in a commanding tone. "Lannon doesn't want to discuss it. So drop the subject."

"Fine," said Jerret, "I won't mention it again." The Red Squire glared at the tabletop, his face set in a frown.

"I'm going to get some practice," said Vorden. "Who's with me?"

"But we're supposed to be resting," said Timlin. "We're all worn out."

"I want to be ready for Promotion Day," said Vorden. "Don't you?"

"Let's all go practice," said Aldreya. "We need it."

"Practice is boring," said Jerret. "I'm going to go take a nap."

"Lazy sod," Vorden mumbled, drawing an angry stare from Jerret.

"I think I'll stay here," said Lannon. "I'm a bit sore from training. I need to rest up. I'll see you later on."

"Are you sure?" said Vorden. "Only five days left until the Trials."

"I know," said Lannon. "But right now I just don't feel up to practicing. I'm going back to my room for a while." Lannon felt a strong desire to be alone. He needed time to think everything through. He stood up, placed his trembling hands in his pockets, and left the Library.

As Lannon stepped out into the hall, he seemed to sense cold eyes watching him. It was always the same lately--whenever he went somewhere, he could feel himself being watched. Yet the hallway appeared deserted. Sunlight streamed in through two round windows--one at each end, leaving only faint shadows here and there. He stopped and listened, but the only noise he heard came from his friends in the Library. He considered summoning the Eye of Divinity to at last find out who was stalking him (if anyone) and why, but then the fear of using his power gripped him again, banishing that idea from his mind.

Lannon made his way up to his quarters and closed the door behind him. He took off his boots and lay down on the bed. A great weariness suddenly washed over him. He'd not slept well lately--with the nightmares and all--and it was finally catching up to him. How was he supposed to prepare for Promotion Day under these circumstances?

Soon Lannon drifted off to sleep, and he immediately found himself in another nightmare. He was standing somewhere underground--possibly in the maze of mines and tunnels below Dremlock Kingdom--and before him was a pit of molten lava. A shadowy figure stood on the opposite side of the pit, his arms outstretched--holding a bulky object in one hand that Lannon couldn't identify. Writings of the Deep Shadow glowed blue on the stone walls and ceiling. The shadowy figure was apparently invoking some foul sorcery. The air in the chamber was heavy with dark tension that was growing stronger by the moment.

Lannon's vision blurred and the dream began to slip away. But in its final moments he could see something dark moving in the pit, twisting about--a thing of such power and evil that it seemed nothing could stop it. Was this what the shadowy figure had summoned? It seemed too horrible to believe, for surely no one with even a shred of sanity would want to call forth something of that nature.

Lannon realized the Eye of Divinity was probing the thing in the lava pool, but his power wasn't the same as usual. This was the Eye of Dreams, a magic that could show him things the Eye of Divinity could not. It revealed truths as they occurred, and no distance was too great for its gaze.

Then the vision faded into black mist. Yet Lannon did not awaken right away, for the Deep Shadow was in his heart. Cold fingers gripped his throat again and evil laughter echoed in his mind. Two violet, insane eyes burned in the darkness before everything went completely black.

***

Over the next few days, Lannon couldn't focus on Promotion Day at all, as his thoughts kept wandering back to his nightmare. He didn't reveal the dream to his friends, preferring to suffer alone with the gloom that filled his mind. One day, he encountered Taris Warhawk on the stairs of the East Tower, and the sorcerer gazed at him piercingly and asked if anything was wrong. Lannon just shook his head and hurried past Taris up to his chamber.

When Promotion Day finally arrived, Lannon failed all five Trials--as if he simply lacked the will to try. These tests were indeed more difficult than the Color Trials, consisting of weapon skills, resistance to sorcery, and tests involving strength, agility, balance, and knowledge. Lannon should have passed the knowledge test easily, considering his love for books and history, but his mind kept going blank. He could sense others watching him, judging him because of the power he possessed, and the pressure grew nearly unbearable.

At last it was over. Once again Vorden did the best of all the Squires. In fact, the only combat-related test he was clearly beaten at was Archery (by little Timlin, who was untouchable with the bow). Timlin, Jerret, and Aldreya did well also, and Lannon's friends all received an additional ribbon on their sashes--getting them that much closer to Knighthood. Lannon, however, did not earn a ribbon and would have to wait that much longer to become a Knight (if he ever did become one).

Lannon's misery and feelings of isolation made him want to flee back to the East Tower and hide, but instead he forced himself to do the right thing and celebrate with his friends in the Great Hall.

Lannon didn't eat much of the fine dinner that was laid out before the Squires, and he sat with his head bowed in spite of the talking and laughing going on around him. He avoided making eye contact with anyone. He wondered what they all thought of him--the bearer of the Eye of Divinity, who'd performed so miserably on Promotion Day. They couldn't see the struggles going on inside him. All they saw was a lad who was supposed to have an advantage but couldn't even pass a single one of the Trials. He was certain the Squires were whispering amongst themselves about how pathetic he was.

"You should eat something, Lannon," said Vorden, who'd already cleaned two plates. "You don't want to end up as skinny as Timlin."

"Lannon did poorly," said Aldreya. "Perhaps he doesn't feel like eating. I know I wouldn't if I had done that badly at the Trials."

Lannon sighed. He knew Aldreya meant no harm, and it was simply her way to be blunt. But the words stung nonetheless.

"I don't think Lannon wants that pointed out, Aldreya," said Jerret. "It's kind of rude."

Aldreya looked puzzled. "Why is it rude? I only speak the truth."

"That's not the point," said Jerret. "You Birlotes are all kind of rude. You think you're superior to everyone else."

"That's ridiculous," said Aldreya, her green eyes flashing in anger. "I consider everyone at this table to be my friend and my equal."

Jerret shrugged. "Sorry, but that's how I see Birlotes."

"Your view is misguided, Jerret," said Vorden. "If the Birlotes act superior, it's just the way they're taught. Most of the Birlotes here, including Aldreya, have royal blood in them and were raised accordingly. And besides, Aldreya is right. You really did quite poorly, Lannon. What happened out there? With the Eye of Divinity, you should have dominated Promotion Day."

Lannon considered simply excusing himself and returning to the East Tower, but he felt obligated to explain things to his friends. "I didn't use the Eye. I haven't been summoning it lately. Truthfully, I've been afraid."

"That doesn't make sense," said Vorden. "You were getting quite good at using it, last I knew. What could you possibly be afraid of?"

"I don't know," said Lannon. "I keep dreaming of Tenneth Bard--that he's up to something below Dremlock. But that's not really why I'm afraid. I guess I'm afraid of what the Eye might show me."

"I wish I had your power," said Timlin, his eyes shining. "I would use it all the time and probe every secret."

"There are some things," said Lannon, "that you really wouldn't want to see, Timlin. Things too dark to even imagine."

"Dark things don't bother me," said Timlin. He wrung his hands together, as if suddenly agitated. "I've seen my share--without the Eye of Divinity."

"Are you talking about those scars on your back?" said Vorden, gazing with pity at Timlin. "You must have really suffered."

"That's none of your concern, Vorden," Timlin said. "Don't bring up things from my past in public. You're just as rude as Aldreya. Anyway, I wasn't talking about that. I know what you think." He fell silent and gave no indication he was going to explain that last statement.

"Well, what do I think?" Vorden finally asked.

Timlin glowered at him. "You think I was corrupted when I was younger, because of the beatings and all. Well, you're wrong. Those lashings didn't change me and never will--unless they made me tougher, which is a good thing. I couldn't care less about a few scars or going hungry all the time. That's just life, and life is tough. You're jealous because I was far better than you today at archery."

"That's nonsense," said Vorden. "Calm down. I'm sorry for mentioning your past, but you kind of opened the door for it. Anyway, let's just put this behind us." Vorden extended his hand to Timlin. "Are we still friends?"

Timlin's face was crimson, his eyes smoldering. His tiny hands were squeezed into fists. He was trembling.

"Enough!" Vorden snapped. "Calm yourself!" In spite of Vorden's harsh tone, there was a flicker of fear in his eyes.

Timlin fought with himself for an instant longer and then his anger seemed to diminish. He sighed, then nodded. "Okay, just don't talk about my past. I don't care about it, so why should you?"

"I get it," said Vorden, rolling his eyes. "You don't care about it. Well, neither do I at this point. So let's forget it."

For an instant, Timlin's lower lip quivered and he looked like he might cry. Then he hunkered down, his face sullen.

An uncomfortable silence followed. Lannon felt sympathy for Timlin, but as usual, the skinny lad's strange personality disturbed him. Timlin seemed to lack a true sense of honor or even basic concern for anyone but himself, and there was no telling what he might do if he grew angry enough. Timlin reminded Lannon of a poisonous spider lying in wait for anyone foolish enough to provoke him.

"That little incident aside," said Vorden, again rolling his eyes, "I want to steer this conversation back toward you, Lannon."

"I'd rather not," said Lannon. "I just need time to work things out."

A shadow fell upon Lannon. Startled, he turned quickly in his chair--to find Taris Warhawk. The sorcerer nodded in greeting.

"Lannon, I would like to speak to you later in private," said Taris, "when you get back to the East Tower."

Lannon's heart sped up. Taris' face and voice seemed grim. "What's it about?" he asked.

"As I said," Taris reminded him, "we shall speak in private."

"I'm done eating," said Lannon, "if you want to go now." He was anxious to hear what Taris had to say.

Taris nodded. "My duties here are finished. We shall walk together outside and talk. This business is quite pressing."

***

Lannon said goodbye to his friends and followed Taris out into a cold spring night. A bright moon shone in the sky. Taris had donned his hood and now seemed little more than a shadow moving quietly ahead of Lannon. The trail that led through the great pine forest of Knightwood was deserted. A few wolf howls echoed through the crisp air. Lannon shivered--from the cold and from nervousness--and pulled his fur cloak tighter around himself.

At last, Taris halted. He glanced about, making sure the trail was deserted. "The reason I wanted to speak with you is that I have need of your skills. In the tunnels below Dremlock, we discovered a man who claims to harbor a demon inside him. He seemed to be wandering aimlessly and surrendered to us without a fight. He wore no shirt and had a ragged, half-starved look about him. I have identified a strange aura engulfing him unlike anything I have ever encountered. Also, he seems to need fire to keep himself alive."

"What is a demon?" said Lannon, shuddering for some reason he didn't quite understand. "Some type of Goblin?"

"Demons, as we know them," said Taris, "are spirit creatures that exist in nature. They are wild spirits. Some of the ancient religions throughout our continent of Gallamerth describe demons as purely evil creatures that are almost the exact opposite of the most divine gods. But here at Dremlock we are simply referring to wild spirits that never lived as mortal creatures. They can be good, evil, or neutral--but they are natural creatures of earthly origin."

Again, Lannon shuddered. Something about this topic bothered his instincts, triggering some deep fear of the unknown.

"It appears," said Taris, pausing to gaze at Lannon in the moonlight, "that this man is possessed by a truly wicked one. The demon he supposedly carries has pledged to destroy Dremlock Kingdom. It also claims that it knows just how it can accomplish the deed. It mocks us and plays games with us."

Lannon didn't like the sound of that at all, and he wished Taris had not brought this problem to him. He glanced into the shadowy forest, chills creeping over his flesh. "Is he a member of the Blood Legion?" Lannon thought back to his encounter with the group of former Knights who were sworn to topple Dremlock.

"We don't know," said Taris. "As I said, he was clad only in ragged trousers when we found him. We assume that he is, but can't verify it. Anyway, we need you to probe him with the Eye of Divinity and unlock his secrets."

Lannon shook his head. "I'm not sure I can, Master Taris. I've had a lot of trouble summoning the Eye lately. I have some kind of..." He swallowed hard. "Some kind of fear about it."

"The use of magic always invokes fear," said Taris. "The path of sorcery is a very dangerous one. But any fear can be overcome."

Lannon sighed. "I'm not sure I can do this, that I have the strength. Is there another way to learn his secrets?

Taris' face contorted with anger. With his pointy chin and ears, the Birlote sorcerer looked particularly devilish in the moonlight. "What are you saying, lad? You wanted to be a Squire of Dremlock Kingdom, and so you are. Now you are asked to do an important task, and you surrender to your fears? We are locked in a constant battle against the Deep Shadow, my young friend, unless you've forgotten. You have a sworn duty to defend this kingdom."

Lannon knew Taris was right, but he still felt terrified at the prospect of using the Eye of Divinity. "I'll do it of course, Master Taris. I know it's my duty. I just feel smothered by this fear."

"I'll stand with you," said Taris, patting Lannon on the back. "We shall go to the Deep Forge this very night, where the demon man awaits us."

Lannon had never been to the smoldering Deep Forge, where the mighty weapons and armor for the Knights of Dremlock were crafted.

Taris cleared his throat. "There is...one other detail. The man was not just clad in trousers when we found him, in spite of what I said a moment ago. He was also wearing a metal gauntlet on his right hand. The glove seems hopelessly locked onto his flesh. It is some evil and dangerous device of Tharnin. I sensed terrible power radiating from it. My guess is that the demon is fused somehow into the gauntlet and is influencing the man from there."

Lannon's legs felt weak from dread. He wanted to sit down. "And you want me to examine the gauntlet as well?"

"Of course," said Taris. "We need to learn everything we can about this bizarre fellow and the threat he might pose to us. The fact remains that there is no one else in this kingdom who can do what you do, Lannon. Forget about Promotion Day or any of that. The Eye of Divinity is what truly matters."

"If I don't get promoted," said Lannon, "how will I ever become a Knight? I don't want to stay a Squire forever."

"You're here to serve Dremlock," said Taris, "and not to worry about promotions. They will come in their own time. For now, you must focus on your duties. There are other ways of achieving Knighthood besides the Trials."

"I'll stay focused, Master Taris."

"Good," said Taris, "but be very careful. This demon man is immensely powerful. He already killed one of the Knights--Blain Broadhammer, an irreplaceable blacksmith in the Deep Forge. Somehow he broke free of his chains and choked the powerful Grey Dwarf right in front of six Knights. Then he simply smiled and surrendered again. That gauntlet of his seems to have a mind of its own, and if a demon truly inhabits it, then in fact it does think for itself!"

"I would rather not have known that," said Lannon, wincing. He envisioned a cold steel hand gripping his throat and cutting off his breath.

"Yet you must know," said Taris, "so you are aware of the danger. And you should also know that I instinctively feel the demon man is telling the truth--that he can indeed destroy Dremlock if we don't find a way to stop him."

Lannon breathed deeply, savoring the fresh, pine-scented spring air. He gazed up at the huge trees that stood dark against the moonlight--trees that concealed Dremlock and all of its secrets. Could the ancient and legendary kingdom really fall? If Taris believed it was possible, it probably was. The sorcerer was the wisest man Lannon knew. Lannon stood there in silence for a few moments, with Taris looking on, thinking of all the beauty and wonder that was Dremlock and dreading the thought of facing the ugliness that lay below in a chamber of fire.

"Can he actually destroy Dremlock?" Lannon asked, hoping Taris had misspoken somehow (though he knew it wasn't likely).

But Taris didn't answer. He simply started off down the trail.