Knights The Hand of Tharnin

chapter 19: The Deadly Land

The next day was bright, with a blue sky above, yet it seemed colder than the day before. Thanks to his healing technique, Lannon's hands were doing much better in the morning, and he vowed to himself he would not let them tie him up again. But they left his hands free as they led him to a horse--obviously confident their crossbows would put an end to him quickly if he tried anything.

"You can ride on your own," said Dalvin. "I'm sure you know better than to try to escape. And I have faith that your word is good and that you won't try anything. I think you're an honorable lad." The Legion Master smiled and handed Lannon a pair of fur mittens. "These should be helpful."

Lannon knew Dalvin was simply trying to sway him to join the Blood Legion, but he was grateful for the mittens nonetheless.

"The going will be slow," said Dalvin, with the snow drifted so high and the terrain very steep in places, but we should reach Dorok's Hand by early afternoon." He patted Lannon on the shoulder. "We had a good talk last night. Master Vorden was wise to insist you be kept alive. In the short time I've known you, Lannon, I have come to trust that you'll do what is right."

Dalvin spoke in a sincere manner, yet Lannon saw through the compliments without even needing to use the Eye. But he simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Master Dalvin. I just hope we can resolve everything peacefully. Why should there have to be a war?"

"There will be no peace," said Dalvin, sighing. "Not with Dremlock coming to destroy us. The Knights will never leave us to our way of life, my young friend. In fact, they will try to kill us to the last Soldier."

Lannon said nothing, though he knew Dalvin was either sadly mistaken or merely putting on an act. The Knights would have gladly accepted the surrender of the Blood Legion. Yet Lannon saw a wonderful opportunity to warm up to his foes and pretend to give them what they wanted. They could not know that he was still fiercely loyal to Dremlock and had no plans to change sides.

As they passed on up into the mountains, Lannon wondered how far behind him the Knights of Dremlock rode. The clash between the two armies seemed inevitable, and the Squire shuddered at the thought of how much blood would be spilled. Like the Knights of Dremlock, some of the Legion Soldiers used sorcery (of a darker sort) and were well trained for battle. It would make for a horrific conflict.

"Soon you will be with your friend again," Dalvin said to Lannon in a low voice, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You would be wise to cooperate with him. The person you knew at Dremlock is gone forever."

"I can't believe that," said Lannon.

"Then you're a fool," said Dalvin. "If you go into Dorok's Hand with the notion of saving him, he'll kill you. He has no pity in his heart, Lannon."

"You hate him," said Lannon, seeing the contempt in Dalvin's gaze.

"To my very core," said Dalvin. "The fact that a mere boy rose through our ranks so quickly...it gnaws at me. I'm not the only one who feels that way--and he is well aware of it. Our anger amuses him."

"Will you betray him?" Lannon asked.

Dalvin scowled at the Squire. "And be a traitor to the Blood Legion? Never! And never speak of such a thing again! I'm merely trying to warn you that Vorden Flameblade is not the Squire you once knew. He is thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow and is completely unpredictable."

"Yet you want the Deep Shadow to prevail," said Lannon, "or you wouldn't be fighting against Dremlock. That makes no sense to me."

"Lies, taught to you by Dremlock," said Dalvin. "We want Silverland to live in harmony with Tharnin--to strike a bargain. We know it is possible. Yes, I despise the Deep Shadow just as you do, but this is a war that Dremlock can never win. The Blood Legion was formed as an alternative to Dremlock--a better way of bringing peace to the land. Yet instead of letting us do what must be done, the Knights have ruined our plans constantly over the centuries."

Lannon pondered Dalvin's words--and rejected them. Striking a bargain with Tharnin would undoubtedly mean the expansion of the Bloodlands and endless numbers of Goblins terrorizing the land. Dalvin seemed delusional--his mind twisted in ways he wasn't even aware of. A quiet groan escaped Lannon's lips at the thought that he was now surrounded by madmen, many of whom had been contaminated by the Deep Shadow and didn't even know it.

***

Dorok's Hand was an ancient Legion stronghold that had never been breached. The entrance was a forty-foot-tall cave mouth that led into the mountain, sealed by gates made of enormous logs. The fortress took its name from a towering, rune-covered statue, carved from the mountain wall, of a bearded warrior that stood beside the entrance, his hand outstretched as if to descend upon those who dared enter. Archers and Soldiers who tended catapults lined wooden platforms to either side, on high alert. Lannon gazed up in awe, imagining the terror that would reign down on Dremlock's army from those heights. Everywhere he looked were huge bodies, grim faces, and row upon row of weapons. And smaller cave entrances lined the mountain on either side, no doubt harboring more foes.

"What do you think of our divine kingdom, Lannon?" asked Dalvin, grinning broadly. "I'll bet you weren't expecting anything like this."

Lannon didn't reply. His throat seemed too dry for speech, the terror surging within him. The reality of what this war would mean--the epic loss of life--was finally clear to him. The terrain leading up to the cave mouth was sloped, and Lannon could imagine dying Knights and horses tumbling downward through the bloodstained snow. But beyond all that, the mouth of the savage fortress seemed ready to devour him. He wondered if he was entering a lair from which he would never return. It seemed only torment, madness, and death awaited him within. Lannon had never felt further away from the small cabin in the woods, where he'd grown up with his mother and father secluded from the outside world, than he did now.

Lannon tried to be strong, to think like a Divine Knight, but he didn't seem to possess the courage. He clung to a grain of confidence from knowing he still possessed the Eye of Divinity--a mysterious power that had never been clearly understood and struck fear into the hearts of Dremlock's enemies. But Lannon was shaking in his boots with a terror of the unknown that was so potent it was almost unbearable, as he wondered what horrors lay beyond that massive gate. His eyes kept straying back to the towering statue of the warrior, and he envisioned the great stone hand descending to crush him.

"Calm yourself, lad," Dalvin said. "Your face is as pale as the snow. Don't panic and do anything foolish."

"I'm fine," Lannon said, though that was far from the truth. In spite of all that had happened to him since becoming a Squire of Dremlock, he was still a young, frightened lad with a vivid imagination. But he was also filled with determination to find a way to avoid war--and that one hope rested with Vorden. As leader of the Blood Legion, Vorden might be able to call a truce if Lannon could find a way to reason with him--and if any of his former self still existed.

Dalvin pointed at warrior statue. "Dorok, the great Legion Master who made this our kingdom. The runes on his robe play tricks on your mind, Lannon, and enhance your terror. You can resist them."

Lannon understood, and he fought to block the sorcery from invading his mind. Grudgingly, some of his fright slipped away.

A horn sounded, and Soldiers seized ropes and pulled the huge gates open. The battalion surrendered their horses to the men at the gates and walked through into the mountain cavern, which was lit by rows of large torches that were connected to pillars that had been hewn from the rock walls. Massive crimson vines wound around the pillars--living plants that Lannon didn't recognize. At the end of the entrance tunnel were the mouths of three smaller tunnels. They took the one on the far right and followed it on a downward slope into the earth. Soldiers and trained Goblins wandered the tunnels--the latter causing Lannon to shudder. He couldn't imagine sharing living quarters with creatures of the Deep Shadow.

"Where are we going?" Lannon asked.

"To our forge," said Dalvin. "I was instructed to bring you there. Don't bother asking why, because I have no idea." He handed Lannon his Dragon sword. "You're not a prisoner anymore, if you ever really were. You're entitled to your weapon."

Lannon sheathed the sword. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," said Dalvin. "I know that sword--which is a fine blade by the way--spends most of its time in its sheath. Taking away your blade is kind of pointless, when your true power comes from within. Tell me something, Lannon. Why did you allow us to bring you here without putting up a fight?"

"I don't want anyone to die," said Lannon, with a shrug. "I guess...I guess I came here hoping to find peace."

Dalvin nodded. "You are indeed a noble lad. But life will soon teach you the way things truly are. Everything ends in violence and death these days."

"I can't accept that," said Lannon.

Dalvin shook his head in amusement.

"This is an impressive fortress," said Lannon, still intimidated by the size of everything. "I never imagined it would be so big."

"Yes, it's quite a sight," said Dalvin, his voice full of pride. It is filled with chambers and tunnels--not unlike the mines below Dremlock. This used to be called New Hammer Hall--the kingdom of the Grey Dwarves. Yes, there is an Old Hammer Hall, higher up in the Bonefrost Mountains. The Dwarves were masters at breeding plants that grow underground, and some of their ancient gardens still exist down here and provide us with food. They are amazing to look upon. Just wait until you see some of the mushrooms, which are as large as tents."

"If I live long enough," Lannon said gloomily.

"No reason you shouldn't, lad," said Dalvin. "You were taken prisoner for a reason, and you've been very cooperative. You'll get a good report from me. It's all up to you, Lannon. You can choose to join us and live an honorable life, or you can choose to stand against us and perhaps die as a fool fighting for the wrong reasons."

"You're very sure of yourself," Lannon mumbled.

Dalvin seized his tunic and brought his scarred face close to Lannon's own. "Yes, lad, I am very sure of myself! I've been fighting this war for decades, with never a doubt in my mind about whether or not it is right. Can you say the same for life at Dremlock? No, your mind is full of doubts."

A huge Jackal Goblin walked past them, accompanied by two Soldiers. It fixed its yellow eyes on Lannon and drool dripped from its muzzle. Lannon looked away, disgusted. "Yet you have doubts about the Deep Shadow," he said to Dalvin, motioning toward the Jackal. "You fear it."

"The Blood Legion stands alone," said Dalvin. "Tharnin works with us for a mutual goal--it does not rule us."

"How can you say that?" said Lannon, "considering who your leader is? I saw what happened to Vorden--what he became. I was there!"

Dalvin's face looked troubled, but defiant. "It doesn't matter. Vorden is just one man, and he obeys our laws ultimately. He must act for the good of the Legion. And I'm not going to argue with you, Lannon. As I said, the choice is yours. I did my part in delivering you here and I bear no further responsibility for what happens to you. You're not even a grown man yet and cannot distinguish truth from lies. In time, you will come to understand and willingly join our cause. As I said, a sorcerer of your talents would be very welcome here."

Dalvin glanced nervously along the tunnel and then lowered his voice. "But bear in mind that if you choose to spit on us and remain loyal to Dremlock for even an instant, I'm sure your old friend will crush you without a second thought. And I assure you, he loves to crush people. There is not a man in Dorok's Hand who isn't terrified of him, including myself."

"Vorden is not a killer," said Lannon, though he knew it was probably a silly thing to say. Surely, Vorden had no pity left in his heart. The Hand of Tharnin had likely stolen all of it away.

Dalvin chuckled. "Poor naive lad." He motioned Lannon along. "Anyway, we've talked enough. I actually like you, Lannon, and I wish you well. But now you must go to your fate--whatever it may be."

Lannon was left in silence to contemplate that fate as he was led to the Forge. He didn't actually enter the chambers where weapons and armor were crafted, but instead was led to a round cavern where barrels and crates stood--a storage room where Vorden and Timlin were chatting with a Soldier. A man--a Legion Soldier by the look of him--was bound with ropes nearby and slumped against a barrel, looking defiant yet terrified. Vorden's face was contorted in anger, his helm held in the crook of his arm. He gestured toward the bound prisoner as he talked.

When Vorden spotted Lannon, he broke off the conversation and hurried over, with Timlin at his side. Like Vorden, Timlin wore magnificent armor--white and blue in Timlin's case--that moved fluidly with his body. A sense of unreality washed over Lannon. He was reunited with his two friends and former Squires at last, but the circumstances were so bizarre Lannon could barely make sense of it. How had things come to this, and so quickly? He knew it was the Hand of Tharnin that had made it possible--that ultimate weapon of the Deep Shadow that could change the fate of the one it possessed in an instant. And by the devilish glint in Timlin's eyes, Lannon could see that the gauntlet's influence had extended to him as well. As they approached him, they moved like confident royalty--men of importance who were used to being obeyed. Lannon barely recognized them.

Vorden smiled in an obvious attempt to put him at ease--but his yellow eyes betrayed him. "Glad you could make it, my friend. I hope you were treated well on your journey." He started to pat Lannon on the shoulder with the Hand of Tharnin, but when Lannon flinched away, he switched hands for the task and chuckled. "Do not fear me, Lannon. I won't harm you."

Timlin nodded but didn't smile. His eyes were icy. "Lannon, good to see you again. Welcome to Dorok's hand."

Lannon sighed. "I see you've accomplished your goal, Timlin."

"Yes," said Timlin, finally giving a hint of a smile. "I'm now a Legion Soldier. Actually, I'm a Legion Knight, and second in command. It wasn't easy getting here, though, but well worth the struggle."

Lannon wasn't sure what to say and stood in silence. At last he said, "So now that I'm here, what is to be done with me?"

"I was hoping you would join us, of course," said Vorden. "When I spared your life and warned you not to come north--I knew you would come anyway. You've got the blood of a hero in your veins, Lannon. I expected nothing less than for you to end up standing before me."

Lannon shook his head in disbelief. "But attempts were made on my life, Vorden. You must have wanted me dead."

"Nonsense," said Vorden, waving in a dismissive gesture. "I knew you would survive. My real goal all along was to take you prisoner, though I knew it would be difficult. Are you referring to the Pit Crawler? I did not plan that attack, first of all. I was busy searching for Timlin when that took place. And the goal was not to kill you but to paralyze you and bring you to us."

"A Knight was killed by that creature!" said Lannon, wondering if reasoning with Vorden was even a remote possibility.

Vorden shrugged. "What of it, Lannon? Knights are going to die...a lot of them. We're at war, in case you forgot. And I warned you that when you came north, you would find that the Squire you knew at Dremlock was no more. I don't mind killing, now. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It makes me feel powerful."

Lannon was overwhelmed by disgust, but he hid his feelings. "I'm here to try to stop the killing, Vorden, to put an end to this war."

"You can't stop it," said Vorden, smiling. "If that's why you came here, you would have done better just to flee back to Dremlock. The Knights are on the way, Lannon. But they'll never enter Dorok's hand."

"Never," Timlin echoed, his hand on his bow. He looked more mature somehow, hardened and ready to kill.

"This has worked out perfectly," said Vorden. "Soon you will join us--the three former Squires together again, minus the foul Birlote Aldreya and Jerret the loser. Together we will rule all of Silverland forever."

"Do you want to live forever?" Timlin asked Lannon. "Now you can, with the power of Tharnin."

I'd rather die young, Lannon wanted to say.

"You set this all in motion, Lannon," said Vorden. "Without you, Timlin and I would be unknown Squires at Dremlock. Instead, we're practically gods. You want to blame the Hand of Tharnin when you should blame yourself. If you think we're monsters, then it was you who spawned us."

Lannon cringed inwardly at Vorden's words, for they stung him deeply. He did blame himself for making friends at Dremlock and getting others involved in his dangerous and bizarre existence. He'd reached out selfishly because he was lonely and afraid--and this was the terrible result.

"Your eyes are haunted, my friend," said Vorden. "But rather than blame yourself, you should give yourself credit. We're not the monsters you believe us to be. On the contrary, we will bring peace to this land."

Lannon was weary of hearing the Blood Legion talk of peace, and he still felt detached from reality--wondering if it all was a nightmare. "So what happens now, Vorden? If I don't agree to join your cause, will you kill me?"

"I won't kill you," said Vorden, "because you will join my cause. From the moment I chose to wear the Hand of Tharnin, I knew it was your destiny to fight by my side for a new purpose. Make no mistake, you will join Timlin at my side. Can't you see how fate is at work here? Look at us--together again!"

"You did not choose the gauntlet," said Lannon. "It chose you--against your will. Don't you remember, Vorden? Your memory is fading!"

For a moment, Vorden's eyes looked distant and confused. Then he shook his head. "You speak nonsense, Lannon. I remember seizing the Hand of Tharnin and...and placing it on my arm. It serves me."

Lannon sighed. "Try to remember who you were, Vorden."

Vorden's eyes narrowed. "I do recall exactly who I was--a foolish Squire who fought for the wrong reasons. But we've talked enough."

"Then what happens now?" said Lannon.

"Now you can watch while I deal with this prisoner," said Vorden, motioning to the bound man. "He was caught stealing from another Soldier, and I've decided to execute him right here and now. You can watch, Lannon."

"Vorden, don't do it!" Lannon pleaded, panic surging through him. "You're not going to kill a helpless prisoner!"

"You don't yet understand, Lannon," said Vorden, his eyes smoldering. "I am in command, and my word is law. I hold the power over life and death." He grinned slyly. "In my hand." He raised the gauntlet. "You can forget about the Divine Essence. I will show you how a god is supposed to behave!"

Vorden strode over to the bound prisoner, with Lannon and Timlin following. Vorden seized the man by the throat with the Hand of Tharnin. "When Soldiers break the rules, death is the only fitting punishment." The Soldier trembled, but his eyes burned with defiance.

"Master Vorden," said the Soldier who stood watching, "again, I beg you to reconsider! Talgad is a good man who simply drank too much ale and made a foolish mistake. He has always been fiercely loyal to the Legion. He has been a brother to me since we were young. Please, my lord!"

"Kill the rule breaker," said Timlin, grinning.

Vorden turned. "You beg me to spare his life, Mohar? Yet someone must be punished as an example for others. Will you take his place? If you agree to it, I will spare his life. But you will die."

The Soldier named Mohar nodded, his pace pale. "For my brother, I will do it. Yes, I will trade places with him so he may live."

"No, my friend!" Talgad groaned. "I'm the one who broke the rules. You shouldn't have to die over my actions."

"Mohar has been granted the choice," said Vorden. "And he has chosen death." Vorden turned and seized Mohar's throat.

"Wait!" said Lannon, the Eye of Divinity springing to life. He seized Vorden with his sorcery and yanked him away from Mohar.

Vorden turned toward Lannon, rage in his yellow eyes. He raised the Hand of Tharnin and the blue stones began to glow. Lannon's hold on Vorden was shattered. "Do not interfere with what must be done!"

"This is not the way to sway me to your cause," said Lannon. "You...you brought me here to join your Legion. Yet I'm not ready to see such sights. Just give me some time to adjust to this way of life, Vorden."

Vorden hesitated, then nodded. "Out of respect for you, Lannon, I will allow this wretch to live. Mohar, take your friend to the dungeon and have him flogged for his crime. That is all."

Timlin sneered. "That was pathetic, Vorden."

"I don't have time for any of this anyway," said Vorden, shrugging. "I'm about to make an excursion into a very dark place, Lannon. I would be honored if you would join me--so that you can witness Dremlock's doom. The time is right, but the beast must be given its orders. Soon the entire Divine Army will be a sea of broken bodies. And guess what? It won't cost me a single Soldier!"

***

It was nearing evening when the Divine Army drew close to the Blood Legion fortress. The going had been very slow, with the steep, snow-drifted terrain making it very difficult to continue pulling the wagons that contained the bulk of their supplies. Jerret was growing ever more nervous and impatient, fidgeting restlessly in the saddle. He knew Vannas and Aldreya felt the same.

"We shall ride right to the gates of Dorok's Hand," said Furlus Goblincrusher, who rode alongside the three Squires. "There, we will wait for them to make a move--be it battle or surrender. If they choose to fight, we will unleash the White Flamestone upon the gates and burn them down."

Jerret knew the Blood Legion would never surrender--not with Vorden and the Hand of Tharnin on their side. But Jerret had a plan to deal with Vorden, if he could get close enough to speak to him. He felt he was skilled enough to defeat Vorden in combat, as long as the Hand of Tharnin was kept out of the fight. It was a plan that could easily lead Jerret to his death, but he was determined to make Vorden pay for enslaving Jerret's mind--whatever the cost. The obsession with killing Vorden had grown to consume Jerret's life, and he felt that surely destiny must somehow bring the two Squires together in a duel to the death.

Jerret suspected that somewhere beneath the power of the demon that infested the Hand of Tharnin--and the monstrous will of the Deep Shadow--some of the old Vorden Flameblade still remained. But was there enough of the old Vorden left to compel him to accept a challenge from Jerret? Jerret realized that dreaming of revenge (especially against one of his former friends and fellow Squires) was not the way a warrior of Dremlock was supposed to conduct himself. He suspected that somehow Vorden had corrupted his heart with the Deep Shadow, fueling his hatred. Jerret's conscience warned him that he was on a dark path, but his desire for vengeance was too strong to be ignored. Time and again he imagined Vorden's blood-soaked body on the ground at his feet.

"This is what I was trained for," said Vannas, interrupting Jerret's thoughts. "To turn the mighty gates of Dorok's Hand into ash!"

"So that's why Dremlock decided to wage this assault on the fortress," said Jace. "The gates are no longer a deterrent. I should have guessed that. This will be the third time Dremlock, in its long history, has attempted to claim Dorok's Hand. The other two assaults resulted in disaster for the Divine Knights--with many slain. They never even entered the fortress."

"The wooden gates cannot easily be burned," said Furlus. "They are coated with a substance that resists fire. But the White Flamestone will not be stopped. Rest assured the gates will fall--and many Soldiers with it."

"Are you prepared to kill many men, young prince?" Trenton Shadowbane asked Vannas. "Dozens...maybe even hundreds? It will not be pleasant to witness--the cries of the wounded and dying. Yet you must stay strong."

"I am ready," said Vannas, though his eyes looked uncertain. "This is my purpose. This is what the Divine Essence chose me for. All those days and nights in seclusion, the endless lessons. I never thought I would actually end up here, ready to do my god's bidding and see the fruits of my labor."

"We'll see," said Trenton. "Our success may depend almost entirely on you, Squire. Bear that in mind!" With his broken arm and broken ribs still on the mend, the Investigator was slouched in the saddle, grimacing in pain now and then. He'd taken brutal damage from the Bear--to the point where even with his healing technique and the help of the White Knights he was still barely mobile. The constant riding and intense cold had also conspired to slow his recovery.

As they approached the gates--and the army of Legion Soldiers that was gathered in front of them--the Red Knights took the lead, their lances held ready. Next came Furlus and the Squires, surrounded by more Red and Brown Knights and wolves. The sorcerers and archers brought up the rear. Dremlock's army was larger than the one that awaited it, but the Legion Soldiers held a great advantage in positioning, having the higher ground--including the archers and catapults that lined the wooden platforms high above the snows.

Dorok's Hand was a shimmering wall of weapons and Soldiers ready to cast destruction down upon the Divine Army. Jerret gazed upward in awe, thinking that he would never get close to Vorden to take his revenge. In fact, he could only imagine dozens of arrows and boulders raining down until only dead bodies remained. For a moment, he thought they'd made a terrible mistake in ever coming here. The fortress just seemed too well defended.

Then Jerret glanced at Vannas, who held the pouch containing the White Flamestone, and hope returned. As long as the prince held that great gift of the Divine Essence, Jerret's dream of killing Vorden remained a possibility.

"Keep a firm grip on it, Prince Vannas," said Jerret. "They'll try to take it from you." He glanced up and saw Elder Hawks circling above--along with what looked like a Goblin Vulture. "And watch the skies!"

Vannas nodded. "It shall never leave my hand."

When the two armies were only a stone's throw away from each other, Furlus ordered a halt. He sent word through the ranks to beware of the terror-inspiring runes on the statue of Dorok. "Remember your training," he said, "and focus only on serving the Divine Essence."

Then the Grey Dwarf rode to the front of the ranks and waited, sitting fearlessly in the saddle with his arms at his sides. The archers on the platforms could have shot Furlus off his horse, but they made no move.

At last, a Legion Knight--a man as large as Jace--in dark armor and a horned helm rode forth to meet Furlus. His bushy black-and-grey streaked beard protruded from beneath his helm. He carried a huge battle axe in one hand while guiding the reins with the other. His horse was black and larger even than the Greywinds--some type of yellow-eyed Goblin Steed. He looked like death itself.

When the giant reached Furlus, he towered over the Grey Dwarf. Yet Furlus was imposing in his own right--a wall of muscle and stout armor that seemed as if it could never be breached. They conversed for a moment, gesturing occasionally toward both armies, and then the Knight rode back to the gates.

Word quickly spread through Dremlock's army that the Blood Legion was weary of fighting and was considering surrendering--but was still waiting for word from the Legion Masters. They'd asked to be granted until morning to make their decision. Furlus returned to the Divine Shield with a scowl on his face.

"I don't believe it," the Tower Master said. "I'm certain this is some kind of ploy to buy time while they prepare a defense or an attack. I almost think we should just launch our attack and end this quickly!"

"But what if they are sincere?" said Shennen. "Think of all the lives that would be spared. They know they cannot stop us--that we will tear down the gates and overrun Dorok's Hand. Maybe they truly are weary of fighting. Maybe the Hand of Tharnin is no longer a threat--for some reason we do not know."

"We should give them the benefit of the doubt," said Trenton. "It's not Dremlock's way to kill if it can be avoided. It's written in the Sacred Laws that we must give our foes a chance to surrender whenever possible. Well, they have agreed to speak to us and there is a possibility of surrender."

"We shall wait for their answer," Furlus said reluctantly. He turned his sullen eyes on Vannas--the eyes of a Dwarf longing to be unleashed into battle. "But if there is any hint of deception, young prince, you will use the Flamestone upon the archers and catapults on the platforms until they are incinerated--and then turn it on the gates themselves. And then, Dorok's Hand will run red with blood!"

***

Vorden and Timlin led Lannon through a series of tunnels into a large cavern with a pit at the middle of it. Lannon recognized it instantly as the cavern from his dreams--though in the dreams he'd assumed it lay in the mines below Dremlock. And while the pit in his nightmare had been full of lava, this one was cold and seemingly empty, save for a ring of torches that partially surrounded it. However, Lannon could sense the evil aura of the Deep Shadow rising from the pit, and it was indeed like a raging fire that threatened to burn away his soul.

"Soon Dremlock will reach our gates," said Vorden. "There, the Knights will wait to see if we're going to surrender. Meanwhile, we will prepare a most unpleasant surprise for them. Actually, I've been preparing it for days now, but the process is fairly slow. I want you to accompany me into the pit, Lannon."'

Lannon shuddered at the thought. The aura of the pit filled him with revulsion, and he knew it was the last place he would ever want to go.

"I should be at the gates," said Timlin, a nervous glint in his eyes as he glanced toward the pit "commanding our Soldiers in your absence. May I go?"

"And leave me alone with Lannon?" said Vorden, with a chuckle. "And what if he attacks me, Timlin? What if he tries to kill me?"

Timlin shrugged. "I can stay if you'd like--or send some Soldiers down here to assist you in dealing with him."

Vorden sneered. "I was joking, Timlin. I don't need any help in dealing with Lannon. Go on then and make sure we're prepared for Dremlock's arrival. Bear in mind that no sword is to be raised or arrow fired. If anyone tries to start the battle, kill them instantly."

Timlin bowed. "It shall be done, Master Vorden. Are you sure you want to be left down here alone with Lannon?"

"Just get going!" Vorden said, glaring. "Lannon isn't going to harm me. It's not his way, Timlin."

With a nod, Timlin departed.

"As I said," Vorden continued, "we are going into the hole. I have pressing business down there. And it will be a great experience for you."

Lannon gazed at the yawning pit in horror. "There is no way I will ever enter that pit. And I won't help you destroy the Knights."

Vorden glared at Lannon, then sat his helm on the cavern floor. "You're going with me, Lannon, if I have to drag you down there. I want you to understand what Tharnin is all about. There are only a small amount of portals like this in all the land, so you should welcome this wondrous opportunity to learn about the Deep Shadow. It's not what you think it is. Trust me, my friend."

Lannon readied the Eye of Divinity. "I won't go."

With a snarl, Vorden strode toward him. Lannon seized him with the Eye and froze him in place. "Stay away from me, Vorden."

"Don't be a fool!" Vorden growled, struggling to break free. "I don't want to fight you. You're like a brother to me."

"I don't want to fight you, either," said Lannon. "But I won't enter that evil pit!" He was surprised at how powerful the Eye felt to him--as if its strength had increased from repeated use. The Eye seemed to be growing and adapting.

With a hiss, Vorden broke free and lunged at Lannon, seizing his throat. "You're going to do as I say! You may have been Dremlock's most prized Squire that everyone fawned over, but here in my fortress you must obey my will!" With that, Vorden began dragging Lannon toward the pit. "We've talked enough. Time to find out what lurks below!"

In a panic, Lannon ripped the Hand of Tharnin from his throat and shoved Vorden away. "You want me to go in that pit and become a monster like you! Well, I'll never do it, Vorden! I'd rather die!"

Vorden slammed his gauntlet against the cavern floor and chunks of rock exploded into the air. "I'm not going to kill you, Lannon. Not yet, anyway. But I will render you immobile and force you to go with me!"

Vorden again hurled himself at Lannon and the two grappled with each other. Vorden threw Lannon against the cavern wall, but Lannon shielded himself with the Eye of Divinity and suffered no damage from the impact.

Enraged, Vorden charged at him again. Lannon stepped aside and, using the power of the Eye, flung Vorden against the rock wall with shattering force. Vorden staggered, then whirled around, the blue stones in the gauntlet glowing almost white hot. "Don't force me to crush you, Lannon!"

When Lannon tried to seize him again, Vorden hurled a fireball at the Squire. Lannon froze the blazing orb on instinct and flung it back at Vorden--who simply batted it aside with the Hand of Tharnin. The fireball struck the cavern wall and exploded into a shower of bouncing sparks.

Vorden hesitated, his rage giving way to a sudden, hurt look. "I never thought you would betray me like this, Lannon. All I asked was that you accompany me on a brief journey. I let you come into my fortress and walk freely about--not as a prisoner but as a trusted friend. I've offered you unlimited power. Yet this is how you respond--to ignore a simple request and lash out at me in anger?"

"I'm sorry, Vorden. I just can't do it." Lannon folded his arms across his chest to show that he wasn't going to budge.

"Then I will go alone," said Vorden, his yellow eyes narrowing. "And when I return from the land of shadows, there will be no mercy left in my heart. I won't just destroy Dremlock--but all of Silverland! Every man, woman, and child--slain! Every town--burned to ash!"

Lannon gazed at him in disbelief. "You would never do such a thing, Vorden, not even...even like you are now. You're lying to me!"

"I'm capable of anything," said Vorden, sighing. He seemed to wrestle inwardly with himself for a few moments. At last he added, "Maybe I just want you to come with me to...to try to talk me out of all this. Maybe I want you to stop me somehow. I'm out of control. Even my master has abandoned me now and gone back into hiding. He gave me power over the Blood Legion and now believes it was a grave mistake. The Hand of Tharnin is too powerful and too wicked for anyone to control. It should never have been created. You're my last hope, Lannon!"

Lannon glanced at the pit, wondering if Vorden was simply trying a new tactic to get him to go down there. And why was Vorden so desperate to get Lannon to go? Yet Vorden's eyes did look sincerely haunted. Lannon tried to peer into Vorden's thoughts, but the Hand of Tharnin turned his gaze aside.

"What do you hope to accomplish down there?" Lannon asked.

"I was going to command a terrible beast to fight for the Blood Legion," said Vorden. "This gauntlet was really designed to control the great beasts of Tharnin--creatures so powerful they typically can never be controlled by anyone. Any other abilities the gauntlet possesses are secondary. But now I want to sever my link to the creature that I've summoned. You can help me break that link--and help me rid myself of this terrible device. If we take it into the pit, we can destroy it!"

"That's a rather sudden change of heart," said Lannon. "Seems a bit too sudden. Are you trying to deceive me, Vorden, just to get me to go down there?"

Vorden shook his head. "Lannon, I'm fighting a horrific battle within that you can't imagine. Sometimes my mind is gone--enslaved entirely by the demon that lives in this gauntlet. Other times, I awaken as if from a fog, but it doesn't last long. I'm having one of those moments of clarity. When you threw me against the wall, it jarred me back to my senses. But it will fade quickly!"

Lannon groaned in frustration, almost certain that Vorden was tricking him. But Lannon was a hopeless optimist and couldn't ignore the slim chance that Vorden was being truthful. "Fine, I'll do it," he said at last. "But if things don't seem right, I'll turn back immediately and never trust you again."

Vorden nodded. "You won't regret this, my friend."

As they stood at the edge of the pit, Lannon found himself gazing down into a mass of curling fog. A wooden ladder descended into the fog. He turned a questioning gaze toward Vorden. "It's just mist down there."

"Just follow me," said Vorden, and he started down the ladder. Moments later, Vorden was completely concealed by the fog.

Reluctantly, Lannon climbed down after him, until he was standing on solid rock and engulfed by the mist. He gagged on the aura of the Deep Shadow. He could see nothing but the fog around him in the faint torchlight from above.

Suddenly, a blue glow broke through the fog--the stones from Vorden's gauntlet. "Follow the light, Lannon. A tunnel awaits us."

Lannon followed, but after a few steps, a shock suddenly tore through his body. His flesh shivered and his knees buckled. He was suddenly sick to his stomach. It almost felt like something was writhing around inside him--a dark force seeking to break free. He groaned and clutched his belly.

The blue light paused. "What's wrong, Lannon?"

"I don't know. I feel very strange."

"It's probably just the aura of the Deep Shadow," said Vorden. "It's immensely strong here. You should get used to it after a bit."

Feeling dizzy, Lannon started off again as Vorden led the way. Shadows seemed to move through the fog here and there--some with sinister shapes. The mist felt cold and clingy against Lannon's flesh, and chills crept over him constantly.

They walked for what seemed like an hour through a foggy tunnel, and then suddenly the walls of the tunnel vanished and the fog fell back a bit. Lannon could make out the shapes of huge, twisted trees growing right up out of the stone--the Dark Mothers. The foul stench of the Bloodlands hung in the air. Looking up, Lannon saw a ceiling of glowing fog about thirty feet above him.

"Where are we?" asked Lannon.

"We're on the edge of the realm of Tharnin," said Vorden. His face looked sinister--half covered in shadow in the glow of the fog. But he smiled reassuringly. "Nothing to worry about here, though. It's a safe place."

A bit farther on they came to the base of a huge pillar that rose up into the mist. A stone stairway wound upward around it. "This is a Summoning Platform," said Vorden. "This is where I will make contact with the beast and send it back to its lair. Then, together, we will free me from the curse of this gauntlet. But we must hurry! I don't know how long my mind will remain free of possession. Once the demon has rested and gained strength, I will be lost again."

It was a long climb up the pillar stairway, which led them into the ceiling of glowing fog above. The fog was so thick Lannon couldn't see the edge of the stairway and he stayed as close to the pillar as possible for fear of falling. Shadowy figures lurched out at Lannon, startling him, before vanishing just as quickly. Lannon walked on shaky legs, thinking each step could be his last. Vorden, however, strode confidently up the steps, whistling some tune Lannon had never heard before. Lannon wasn't sure if he was even in the real world anymore, or if he'd entered some strange dream realm. The stone pillar looked webbed with veins and was warm to the touch--as if it were alive. Massive tree branches reached forth from the fog, some extending so close to the pillar that Lannon had to duck under them. Life seemed to be everywhere here, but it was barely recognizable--barren and shadowy creations always partially concealed by the mist.

At one point Lannon stumbled over a loose stone and started to fall, but Vorden whirled around and seized him with the Hand of Tharnin.

"Be careful, Lannon. It's a long drop."

Lannon flinched away from the gauntlet. "It's hard to see anything. Why all the fog, anyway?"

Vorden shrugged. "It's just the way of things here. As I said, we are on the edge of Tharnin, and it is a very foggy realm...filled with hidden secrets. The fog should slack off a bit as we climb higher. And why should the one who possesses the Eye of Divinity move so blindly?"

Lannon didn't answer. He had no intention of using his power to scan the fog, but instead kept it close to him to shield his body from harm. He didn't want to know what terrible secrets the mist concealed. This world was so different from his own it seemed to shock his system. It was as if he'd entered some spirit realm where living energy existed but life as Lannon knew it did not belong.

They continued upward until they reached the top of the pillar, which was a stone platform with three towering statues of Knights standing in a triangular formation. Each Knight held a different weapon, the business end of which rested on the floor--sword, axe, and hammer. Between the three statues was a circle of runes on the floor. The mist was more distant here and seemed to have an almost bluish hue to it, emitting a bright light upon the platform.

The sight of the Knightly statues left Lannon feeling a bit relieved. This, at least, was something he recognized and understood. The statues looked evil, and like the pillar itself, they were webbed with veins as if made of living rock--but they were a sign of human life and of a world Lannon could relate to.

Vorden stepped into the circle and raised his gauntlet. The blue stones became white hot, and the metal of the gauntlet glowed red. Lannon shrank back from the sudden heat and shielded himself with the Eye of Divinity. For a moment, Vorden stood there with his glowing gauntlet, as the three statues around him began to burn with a blue fire. Then the device seemed to cool again, along with the statues, and Vorden lowered his arm.

He turned and smiled. "Well, that takes care of that."

Something about Vorden's smile chilled Lannon. "So...so you sent whatever beast you'd summoned back to its lair? It's finished, then?"

Vorden laughed. "Look behind you, Lannon."

Even as Vorden spoke, Lannon became aware of a terrible stench--like a mixture of wet earth, decayed flesh, and pure evil. A blast of foul breath hit him from behind. Lannon whirled around--to see a nightmare.

The beast was a winged worm, a Great Dragon of Tharnin, hovering in the fog next to the platform. It was at least sixty-feet long from its horned head to its spiked tail--looking like a giant serpent with rows of small wings that beat so swiftly they were barely visible. It hovered like a dragonfly, and Lannon knew in an instant that it was capable of immense speed in spite of its bulk. Its scales seemed like living entities, shifting about as if each one were aware of its surroundings. Hanging from the scales were tube-shaped extensions that, with a black, curved spike on the end of each, resembled stinging weapons of some sort. The Dragon's head was the most hideous (yet captivating) thing Lannon had ever looked upon--two large, bulbous purple eyes with a hypnotic depth of color shades and textures and a long, wrinkled snout full of oversized teeth. Aside from all that, the creature seemed half-blended with shadows that squirmed over its body--shadows that, along with the moving scales--made the Dragon's entire bulk writhe in a repulsive fashion.

Lannon simply stood and gazed into the endless depths of those purple eyes, waiting to be destroyed. The Eye of Divinity retreated back inside him, his power useless against the colossal might of the beast before him.

But then the Eye suddenly exploded to life, and Lannon again felt sick to his stomach. Something as hideous as the Dragon seemed to be clawing its way to the surface within him--something utterly terrifying. Glancing down, Lannon saw that a shadow seemed to be covering his body--a shadow that had a crimson hue like blood. He thought the Eye was having some strange reaction to the overwhelming presence of the Deep Shadow, but he had no idea what it was. He remembered Jace's vision--of Lannon covered in blood--and wondered if this was what he'd seen.

Suddenly, Lannon was overcome by rage. He turned his back on the Dragon, not caring if it devoured him. He was flooded with a righteous anger that dissolved his terror. "You betrayed me, Vorden!

"Of course I did," said Vorden, laughing. "And it was so easy to do. Don't think ill of me, Lannon. I brought you here for your own good."

Lannon could only shake his head. "How is this for my own good? You're full of lies and you don't even know it!"

"I will be returning to my fortress," said Vorden. He pointed beyond Lannon at the Dragon. "And my little friend here will follow me. Soon it will emerge from the gates of Dorok's Hand and begin its assault on Dremlock and the Divine Essence. Nothing will stop it. There is no force in existence that can destroy a Great Dragon of Tharnin. They have existed since the dawn of time. To be honest, this gauntlet was not created to control all of the great beasts, for that would be impossible. It was created specifically to control this Dragon, after decades of careful research and sorcery experiments. It was created to destroy Dremlock Kingdom!"

"I believed in you, Vorden," said Lannon. "Even as you are now, I still believed there was some of your old self left in there." He clenched his hands into fists, overwhelmed with bitterness. "Well, I don't believe it now!"

"You were a fool to come here," said Vorden. "The Hand of Tharnin holds complete dominance over my soul--yet I willingly embrace it. This device was banished by the Tharnin Lords. They fear its power and consider it unstable. It was on its way to be destroyed when it fell into the hands of the farmer Vellera. My master--Tenneth Bard--then opted to violate Tharnin law and attempt to use Vellera to assassinate you, Lannon. When that failed, and the gauntlet fell into my possession, my master decided to go all the way and summon the Dragon to destroy Dremlock. And that's where things stand."

Lannon stood in silence, glowering at Vorden. Whatever dark force was writhing inside of him seemed about to break free.

Vorden sneered at him. "Goodbye, Lannon." With that, he started toward the stairway. "By the way, I betrayed you even worse than you thought. Soon you will find only love for the Deep Shadow in your heart."

As Lannon watched, a figure stepped out from behind one of the statues--a figure cloaked in black, with a face of violet eyes and shifting shadows.

"Tenneth Bard," Lannon groaned, his anger instantly replaced by sheer dread.