Knights The Hand of Tharnin

chapter 3: Jace the Wanderer



When Lannon awoke, he was in the Hall of Healing. He tried to sit up, but one of the healers--a lean man with wavy red hair--hurried over and urged him to stay lying down. The White Knight gazed at Lannon with concern. "You need more rest, Squire," he said, "or your legs will surely buckle beneath you. Your strength has not yet returned."

"What happened to me?" asked Lannon. He had no concept of time. "How long have I been unconscious?"

"For about a week," said the White Knight.

Lannon was stunned by the news. "An entire week, asleep?"

"Well, not asleep," said the healer, "in the sense you're familiar with. You were able to eat and drink, but your mind was in a state of darkness. You were nearly killed by dark sorcery. If it hadn't been for Taris Warhawk, you surely would have died. Sadly, Taris suffered severe burns, but he is expected to recover."

Lannon groaned. "Did anyone else get hurt?"

"Yes," said the White Knight, sighing. "Furlus Goblincrusher suffered a terrible injury to his leg. He may never walk again, though it depends on his strength of will. Both Taris and Furlus are in a special area of the Hall of Healing reserved for High Council members, so you won't be able to see them without being summoned. But I assure you they are recovering."

Lannon could hardly believe what he'd just heard. Both Tower Masters--two extremely powerful Knights--had been struck down. "What of the demon man?" he asked. "The one who attacked me?"

The White Knight bowed his head. "Perhaps you should rest for now."

Lannon seized his robe. "You must tell me!"

"He escaped from the Deep Forge," said the White Knight. "The chamber filled with smoke, and when the smoke cleared, there was no trace of the man. A massive search is taking place throughout Dremlock."

"I can't believe this," Lannon whispered, the will drained from him. Suddenly, Dremlock seemed to have fallen under a shadow of despair. The Hall of Healing was supposed to be bright and pleasant, with its hanging plants, marble bricks, and beautiful fountains and pools. But Lannon's mind was choked in darkness and all he could see was ugliness.

"Perhaps a bath would improve your mood," said the healer, "and help you relax. Would you like to give it a try?"

With the help of the healer, Lannon was able to leave the bed, bathe, and put on fresh clothes. His legs were unsteady, so he returned to bed afterwards. He felt terribly restless, wanting to do anything but lay there.

"You must rest until after dinner," said the healer, "and then you can walk around some. I suspect that by tomorrow morning you should be ready to return to your quarters--though you must refrain from training for a few days."

Lannon's teacher, Garrin Daggerblood, entered the chamber and smiled down at Lannon. It was a forced smile, however. Garrin dismissed the White Knight with a wave. "And how are you feeling, my young friend?"

Garrin had been cold to Lannon lately--ever since Lannon and his friends had broken the Sacred Laws of Dremlock and were nearly expelled from the Kingdom. Garrin had also recently been promoted to the rank of Lord of the Blue Knights, when Carn Pureheart had retired unexpectedly. However, he had not yet been voted onto the High Council, and rumors spoke of him being highly disgruntled over that fact.

"Not so good," said Lannon, "all things considered."

Garrin nodded, the smile vanishing. "Quite a terrible turn of events. One thing is certain--the man who injured the Tower Masters was an amazingly powerful foe. Either that, or he knew well their weaknesses."

Garrin's gaze burned into Lannon, and Lannon looked away. Lannon could feel suspicion emanating from the Blue Knight--and perhaps blame as well. It was painfully obvious that Garrin Daggerblood just didn't like Lannon and already considered Lannon a lost cause.

"The High Council has voted to call in a failed Knight to save us all," said Garrin. "A failed Knight, of all things. And one we thought was dead. Well, it turns out he not only isn't dead, but he's an expert on magical relics--so it is said. Indeed, it seems he has found a way to extend his life by use of forbidden sorcery."

"What failed Knight are you talking about?" said Lannon.

Garrin held up two books for Lannon to see. They were The Truth about Goblins and Tales of Kuran Darkender by Jace Lancelord, ancient books that Lannon's father had bought for him. "Jace Lancelord," said Garrin, shaking his head in disgust. "A failed, expelled Knight and one who employs forbidden sorcery. He will do what you could not."

Lannon snatched the books from Garrin's hand. "Did you get those from my room, Master Garrin?"

Garrin shrugged, his lip curling into a sneer. "So what if I did? I am a highly ranked Knight. I have the right to take what I want. You, as a Squire, have no rights. Do you take issue with my actions?"

Lannon shook his head. "No, Master Garrin."

Garrin leaned forward until his bearded face was close to Lannon's. "So, as I said, Jace Lancelord is coming to save Dremlock--even though I voiced strong opposition to it. What do you think of that? The author of your favorite books, still alive when he should be dead--now playing the role of Dremlock's savior."

Lannon wasn't sure what to think. Though he loved the books Jace Lancelord had written, he had no idea what kind of man he was. And Lannon wasn't in the frame of mind to get excited over much of anything.

"This sort of thing is not uncommon," said Garrin. "Outsiders being called upon to serve Dremlock--even lowly Rangers now and then." He grimaced in disgust. "It happens all the time, sadly. But what a coincidence that this Jace Lancelord happens to be your favorite author. Don't you think?"

Lannon shrugged, completely baffled. "What are you trying to suggest, Master Garrin? It's mere coincidence. I don't know anything about the man. My father gave me those books when I was a child, and that's all there is to it. I had no other books. So I guess that's why he's my favorite author. And haven't other Knights written books? I see a lot of authors in the Library with Knightly last names."

"Perhaps," said Garrin. "But here you are, with those books--and then suddenly Jace Lancelord turns up alive and well. Oh, and he's coming to Dremlock to save us. Quite an amazing coincidence."

"Not really," said Lannon, deeply puzzled.

"Yes, really," said Garrin.

Lannon sighed and decided to keep quiet. Garrin's behavior was nothing new. Garrin had been growing ever more suspicious of Lannon, Vorden, and Timlin over the weeks, and sometimes his hinted accusations were so bizarre it was difficult to figure out what he was trying to say. He wished Garrin would go away.

"How will this Jace fellow help Dremlock?" asked Lannon, trying to steer the conversation toward something rational.

"As I said," Garrin explained, "Jace Lancelord is an expert on magical weapons and relics. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that nearly killed you. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that burned half of Taris' handsome Birlote face and crushed Furlus' fat Dwarven leg. Am I making sense here?"

Barely, Lannon thought, wondering if Garrin was simply going insane. Garrin's paranoia seemed to be growing worse every time Lannon saw him.

"Oh, and you'll be working with old Jace on the mystery," said Garrin, with a chuckle. "The bearer of the Eye of Divinity and his favorite author, working hard to save Dremlock. I'm guessing you're excited at the prospect."

On the contrary, Lannon wasn't looking forward to it at all. He wanted to retreat to his room and hide. He dreaded the thought of encountering the demon man again, especially without Taris to protect him.

"Just know this, boy," said Garrin, his eyes narrowing and shining with malice. He tapped his forehead, "I'm watching your every move."

Lannon gave a half nod, unsure of how to react.

Garrin straightened his back and adjusted his cloak. "All training shall be postponed until the issue with the demon man is settled. And that goes for Vorden and Timlin as well, since I'm sure they will be assisting you. If you have any questions for me, you know where to find me--though I suspect your training as a Blue Squire will not be nearly as important as the Eye of Divinity in this matter. Now, if there is nothing else you want to ask me, Furlus Goblincrusher has requested that you visit him in his room. Are you able to stand?"

Lannon gave it a try, and his legs sagged beneath him. Grunting, Garrin helped Lannon stand up straight.

"You'll find your legs soon enough," said Garrin. "I wish I could say the same for old Furlus. His walking days may be finished."

***

After a few steps, Lannon found his balance, and soon he stood by Furlus' bedside. Garrin excused himself, leaving the two of them alone. Furlus' left leg was heavily bandaged and his forehead dripped sweat. His face was tense with obvious pain that Lannon couldn't imagine.

Furlus seized Lannon's arm. "How are you, lad?"

"I'm fine," said Lannon, his gaze straying again to Furlus' injured leg. Furlus had always seemed invincible, a Dwarven wall of muscle and power that nothing could breech. Now he looked old and helpless, his great bulk something to only weigh him down. Lannon hated what he saw and wished he could help.

"I've seen better days myself," said Furlus. "And so has old Taris. Poor fellow had half of his face burned into ruin."

Lannon swallowed hard and could think of nothing to say.

"I called you in here to warn you," said Furlus. "I fear that Dremlock is..." His eyes settled shut and then popped open. "I fear that Dremlock is doomed. No one can be trusted anymore, not even your closest friends."

"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled, his heart full of pity for the Tower Master. "Just try to rest and heal up."

"No one should waste time worrying about me," Furlus grunted, looking annoyed. "I'm talking about you, Lannon! You may be Dremlock's only hope. Only the Eye of Divinity can see through the wall of shadows that conceals the plans of our enemies. Cordus and Taris didn't want to burden you with the truth. But it's time for you to understand just how important you are. The Knights of Dremlock are running out of options and resources. So we...we..." His eyes slipped shut again beneath his drooping brows.

"Rest up," Lannon whispered, and he started to turn away.

But Furlus' hand again tightened around Lannon's arm, and the Tower Master opened his eyes. "The medicine has made me tired, but I'm not finished yet. I want to say that I no longer think the Knights can protect you--not when two Tower Masters are crushed with ease. You nearly were killed down there in the Deep Forge. It took everything Taris had to save you."

"Then what can I do?" said Lannon, panic rising within him.

"You must learn to think like a Knight," said Furlus. "You've got to thicken your skin a bit and take the battle to your foes."

"I don't understand what you mean," said Lannon.

"Indeed," said Furlus, "and therein lies the problem. "You're thinking in defensive terms, but a Knight must sometimes go on the attack. Hunt down your foes--the foes of Dremlock--and destroy them before they destroy you."

Lannon shuddered at the thought of hunting down the demon man, or Tenneth Bard (if the Black Knight still lived). "Where do I even begin, Furlus? I'm still just a Squire who has to obey the rules."

"I don't know where you begin," said Furlus, shaking his head "and now that I'm bedridden I cannot help you. I'm certain I will heal from this, but it will take awhile. Regardless, you have to decide for yourself. But I feel very strongly about one thing--if you simply try to hide from your enemies, eventually they will find you and kill you. You must go to them and make them hide from you. And even then, hope may be slim at best."

Lannon sighed. "I'll do what I can, Master Furlus."

"And one more thing," said Furlus. "Don't..." His eyes settled closed. "Don't worry about anything but..." He broke into snores.

Lannon turned away, put his face in his hands, and groaned. Everything was falling apart, and his life was in grave danger. Lannon had never felt as terrified, alone, and as miserable in his entire life as he did now. His future seemed lost in darkness, his dream of being a great Knight in a shining kingdom soured into unrecognizable swill.

"Why did I ever come here?" Lannon said aloud.

"Let me guess," came a cheerful reply. "The rice pudding?"

"What?" Lannon lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall man--nearly seven feet in height--dressed in an extravagant, purple cloak with gold trim. He was clean shaven, with a smooth, youthful face and a curly black hair. His grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he puffed at a pipe.

"What?" Lannon said again.

"The rice pudding," said the stranger. "You asked why you came here, and that was my answer. Who doesn't love the rice pudding at Dremlock?"

Lannon was at a loss for words.

The stranger extended his hand. "Jace Lancelord."

Lannon shook it. "Ah, the one who wrote the books." For some reason Lannon couldn't explain, he felt instantly at ease.

"As you might know," said Jace, "I have been hired to solve the riddle of the gauntlet that nearly took your life. And you're going to help me. However, the Knights don't trust me, so two of them will be following us everywhere." He rolled his eyes. "They're outside the room right now. Charming fellows."

"Where should we begin?" Lannon asked.

"I'll actually do most of the riddle solving on my own," said Jace. "I doubt I'll require much help from you. I already suspect we're dealing with a threat that Dremlock is ill-prepared for. In fact, as one who has studied the history of this kingdom and its war with the Deep Shadow extensively, I think this could be one of the greatest threats Dremlock has ever faced. Solving the riddle of the gauntlet and the demon man is one task--but there is a larger puzzle here. I think we'll need to consult with the wisest of the wise to know how we should proceed."

"Taris Warhawk?" said Lannon.

Jace smiled. "Yes, I have heard of Taris' legendary wisdom, but that's not who I had in mind." He puffed at his pipe.

Lannon waited, but Jace said nothing. Finally he asked, "Well, who are you talking about?"

"Tell me a bit about yourself," said Jace.

Lannon was annoyed that Jace had changed the subject, but he did as the sorcerer wished--revealing much of what had happened since he'd come to Dremlock. He felt totally at ease revealing his secrets, though he wasn't sure why. Jace listened quietly, giving only an occasional nod.

Jace looked deep in thought. "Tenneth Bard, huh? I suppose it's possible he could still be alive, but that would make him far older even than myself--and I've walked this land for nearly two-hundred years, which is an amazing feat when you consider that death lurks all around us. For Tenneth Bard to have lived that long, he must be quite powerful--far beyond anything I can imagine."

Lannon shuddered, thinking of the violet, insane eyes burning in the darkness amidst a mass of shifting shadows. Some voice whispered from deep within him that if Lannon lived long enough, he would have to face Tenneth Bard yet again. It was a destiny that only death would allow him to escape. Yet the threat of the demon man seemed even more immediate and terrifying. Lannon didn't feel strong enough or well-trained enough to deal with such monstrous foes.

"There is a lot going on here at Dremlock lately," said Jace, shaking his head in amazement. "It wasn't like this way back when I was a young Knight. I've just met you, but I already fear for your future, Lannon. It's a shame that a lad like you should bear such heavy burdens. You're just a young, frightened Squire, yet Dremlock is content to shove you into danger because of the power you possess."

Lannon nodded. The two stood facing each other, and the silence grew awkward between them. Jace sighed and scratched his head.

"So what should we do now?" said Lannon.

"I don't know," said Jace. "What to do...what to do...?" He mumbled something under his breath.

Lannon fidgeted, wondering if Jace was going to make up his mind. He seemed like he had no plan.

"Have you been doing some studying on me?" Jace asked, nodding to the two books Lannon held. "You won't find much in those. I wrote them a long time ago and a lot about me has changed since then."

"Gifts from my father," Lannon explained.

"Your father must be a wise man," said Jace, winking.

Again, an awkward silence followed. Jace stood staring off into space, as if deep in contemplation, pipe smoke curing around his head. Lannon fidgeted restlessly, wanting to do anything besides stand there wasting time.

Suddenly, Jace seized Lannon's tunic in one huge hand and pushed him against the wall. "Quiet and listen," he whispered, his eyes gleaming down at the boy. "We should consult with the Divine Essence."

"What?" Lannon gasped, wondering if Jace was joking or insane. The giant sorcerer seemed suddenly menacing to Lannon. "That nearly got me thrown out of the kingdom the last time I tried it, and a Squire died down there. No one but the Lord Knight is allowed to speak to the Divine Essence!"

Jace shrugged. "Being a Knight isn't everything. In fact, I'm rather glad I'm done with the whole affair. Too rigid, with those Sacred Laws and all. I value my freedom, and so should you. Anyway, we have to break a few rules if we want to get anywhere."

Two Blue Knights stepped into the room, hands on sword hilts. They gazed at Jace with suspicion. "Is there trouble here?" one of them asked Lannon. "Speak truthfully, Squire!"

Jace released Lannon and backed away, smiling. "The boy is fine. We were just having a heated discussion. Agreed, Lannon?"

Lannon hesitated, then nodded. "Everything is okay."

The Blue Knights glanced at each other. They were lean men with sullen eyes. One of them was a Birlote. Lannon had seen them many times in the East Tower, but had never spoken to them. "Why did the sorcerer have his hands on you?" one of them asked.

"As I said, it was a heated conversation," Jace replied. "Right, Lannon?"

Lannon gave a slight nod. "He wasn't attacking me."

The Blue Knights continued to stand there watching them.

"I need to get settled in," said Jace. He learned toward Lannon and said quietly, "Tomorrow we shall act. Be prepared."

With that, Jace bowed to the Blue Knights and strode from the room. Lannon stared after him in disbelief. He wondered if the High Council members of Dremlock knew what kind of man they had hired, for Jace seemed to have lost his wits at some point in his excessively long life. It was their first brief meeting, and Jace was already suggesting the unthinkable.