Knights The Hand of Tharnin

chapter 6: The Duel

Two days later, the company of Knights and Squires departed on horseback for Serenlock Castle. The Squires were provided with their own horses. It was a cloudy, foggy spring morning with a light rain falling, and the road down the mountain was muddy and slippery in places. Boulders and massive pines loomed in the mist around them, providing excellent cover for an ambush. Lannon was grateful the others had sworn to protect him, but he doubted they could stop a poison arrow if one flew from the mist in his direction.

Whatever fears Lannon harbored over using the Eye of Divinity were overruled by his fear of assassination As he searched the fog for dangers, the Eye revealed many strange things about the mountain that he ignored--bits and pieces of knowledge that tried to take shape. It was a fairly weak use of the Eye, and he was able to sustain it for long periods of time without tiring.

The five elite archers--three woman and two men--rode a short distance behind Lannon's group, their green and gold clothing adorned with intricate Birlote designs. Their longbows were made of pale Borenthia oak, from the great tree city. Their leader--Fadar Stonebow--carried a green banner displaying an image of a white leaf, the symbol of the Birlote Royal Family. The sight of these magnificent archers boosted Lannon's confidence that he would be safe on the journey.

Vorden, who rode alongside Lannon, smiled at his friend. "It feels good to be out riding, doesn't it? This is why we came to Dremlock--for adventure. Sure beats training and studying with the other Squires."

"If I wasn't going to this duel," Lannon mumbled, "I probably would enjoy it. But all I can think about is that demon man. I guess I don't have the confidence everyone else seems to feel. I still can't believe we're going through with this."

"I'm with you on that, Lannon," said Jerret, who rode a few paces behind, alongside Aldreya. "When I was attacked in Knightwood, I never saw the arrow coming. I never heard a thing. It was like all my Knightly training was useless. I guess my confidence has taken a serious blow as well."

"But you're alive, Jerret," said Vorden. "That speaks well of your training. I'm assuming you did something to save yourself."

"I just got lucky," said Jerret. "The arrow deflected off a metal button of my tunic, of all things. It grazed my shoulder. It was strange. I was poisoned, but it was such a small amount the White Knights managed to cure me. I'm still kind of dazed over it. It's like...I can't seem to forget about it." He sighed and ran his fingers through his tangles of blond hair. "I just keep seeing it in my mind--how close I was to death. I know it's cowardly, but I can't forget it."

"It's not cowardly," said Lannon, who knew exactly how Jerret felt. "You were close to death. That's not an easy thing to deal with."

"Knights face death all the time," said Vorden, shrugging. "It's just something we have to get used to."

"We're not Knights," said Jerret. "We're Squires--and not even grown men. We're not ready to face death, but we've been forced into it by circumstance."

"I'm ready," said Vorden. "More than ready."

"I feel the same," said Aldreya. "It's an honor to die in the service of my kingdom, if it comes to that."

Aldreya's unyielding courage was beyond Lannon's comprehension. He decided that Birlotes in general were beyond his comprehension. The Tree Dwellers were very proud of their ways and seemed to know their place in the world. Lannon, on the other hand, felt detached and uncertain. Vorden didn't have Aldreya's upbringing, but he was never at a loss for confidence and Lannon envied him as well. Vorden and Aldreya seemed born to be Knights.

"Stay alert, Squires," Taris called back. "And I want Willan and Zannin to flank you whenever possible, Lannon, with drawn blades."

Lannon's friends moved away, and the two Blue Knights took position on either side of him, their weapons drawn. They were sullen, quiet men, lean of build and adorned with leather armor. Both held swords, and their dark eyes shifted about constantly as they scanned the mist.

"Those Blue Knights are two of Dremlock's best, Lannon," said Taris. "I want them close to you because I believe we're going to face an ambush."

"Why do you think that?" Lannon asked, his heart beating faster. He'd been letting the Eye of Divinity wane a bit, but he sent it out with renewed vigor. He knew from experience that Taris was seldom wrong about such things.

Taris ignored him and rode on. The Birlote sorcerer's grey cloak seemed to blend with the fog. He looked small compared to the towering figure of Jace who rode next him. Thrake Wolfaxe rode at the head of the group, battle axe in hand.

Suddenly, Lannon glimpsed something in a grove of pines about thirty yards away--an unknown menace that appeared to him as an evil, crouching shadow. The shadow seemed to consist of squirming, smaller shadows--as if the being were made of writhing serpents. The distance was considerable and Lannon couldn't seem to summon the strength to determine exactly what manner of foe was hiding amongst the trees. At last he called out a warning to Taris.

"What do you see?" Taris asked, drawing his stone dagger.

Lannon pointed at the pines. "I'm not sure what it is."

Taris motioned to Thrake Wolfaxe and the two rode into the grove of pines. Lannon waited, hardly daring to breathe. Moments later, Taris and Thrake returned, their faces grim.

"Whatever was there," said Thrake, "departed rather quickly. We found the remains of a deer, and it looks as if the creature was feasting. It could have simply been a stray Goblin from the Bloodlands--or perhaps even a wolf or bear."

"My instincts tell me otherwise," said Taris. "I could feel a lingering aura of evil in the air--the stench of a powerful Goblin."

"It wasn't a natural animal," said Lannon. "It was something dark and strange--something that was plotting evil. I could sense that much, at least."

"The demon man?" asked Jace.

"I don't think so," said Lannon. "It was like nothing I've ever seen or felt, like a creature made of smaller creatures."

Jace frowned, as if puzzled. "If it's a Goblin, then it's one I've never heard of. Or perhaps I've forgotten. There are so many..."

The company rode on. Lannon caught no more glimpses of danger, and he started to relax a bit. The Greywind he rode seemed to know exactly where to go, and Lannon let the horse keep its own pace.

But as they neared the bottom of the mountain, along a stretch of the trail where no houses stood--just trees and rocks--a dark figure slipped from the mist and blocked their path. The figure seemed to be a mass of shifting darkness with two yellow eyes. It was clearly some kind of Goblin, but Lannon had never seen anything like it. The Eye of Divinity seemed to falter and shy away from it.

"Halt!" Jace cried out to the company. "Do not move a muscle!" Jace's voice was tense--almost desperate sounding.

The riders came to a stop. "What is it?" asked Taris, his stone dagger burning with the green fire of sorcery.

"I think this is a Host Goblin," said Jace. "If I'm right, it will use smaller Goblins as projectile weapons. Beware of flying objects!"

The shadowy creature simply stood in the trail watching them, its flesh squirming as if in agitation. Lannon tried again to focus the Eye on it, but again he was turned away. He suspected the creature was shielding itself from him somehow. He could sense great danger, but the Goblin didn't look very powerful. In fact, it looked small and weak, hunched over as if with age.

"No one must move except to defend," Jace called back. He signaled to the archers to hold back. "If you move, you will be attacked. Taris and I will handle this. The goal is to flank the creature. I'll move closer and allow myself to be attacked. Then Taris will move closer. And slowly we will close in on it!"

"I hope it can't understand speech," said Taris, rolling his eyes.

Jace didn't reply. He guided his horse toward the Goblin. Immediately, the Goblin hurled something at Jace with blinding speed. Jace batted the projectile away--a shadowy centipede that landed unharmed and scuttled off into the fog. He slowly wiped sweat from his brow. "Taris," he said, "move around to its right side--just a couple of yards for now. Be prepared."

Holding his burning dagger in front of him with one hand, Taris prompted his horse forward. Immediately, the Goblin plucked a squirming Centipede off itself and threw it at him. The projectile's speed was arrow fast, but it struck the dagger's green flames and disintegrated.

"Excellent," Jace said calmly. "This is going very well." His face was tense, sweat dripping from it. Jace started forward, but this time he was a bit too slow in blocking the Goblin's throw. A Centipede struck him in the face and knocked him off his horse into the mud.

Lannon's heart sank, but he dared not move to help Jace. He felt terribly helpless, like a prisoner confined to the saddle while his friends faced death.

"Hold your position--all of you!" Jace called from where he lay. A moment later, he jumped up and batted aside another Centipede projectile. His face was streaked with blood.

"How badly are you injured?" asked Thrake Wolfaxe. The Red Knight held his battle axe in one shaking hand--clearly growing tired from holding the heavy weapon in that position.

"I'm fine," said Jace. "I removed the Centipede before it could poison me--though it was a very close call. Taris, keep moving in."

Taris guided his horse closer--and blocked another squirming projectile that flew at his face. In spite of being blocked, this one hit with such impact it nearly threw him off his horse, but he remained in the saddle. His eyes smoldered with anger. "Vile creature!" he muttered.

Jace stepped around his horse, but the Goblin hurled a Centipede at Vorden this time. Somehow, Vorden's spider sword rose in time to slash the projectile from the air. Vorden cried out in triumph.

"Well done, Squire!" Jace called out, grinning. "Now, continue to hold your ground. We'll get through this."

But Timlin wasn't listening. The attack on Vorden drove him into a panic, and he leapt from his horse and ran for a boulder. The Goblin threw at him and barely missed--though the Centipede hit Timlin's horse in the neck and stuck there. The Greywind reared up, whinnying, and then collapsed in death. The Centipede scuttled away from the horse and vanished behind a pine.

Taris groaned in frustration. "Timlin, you cowardly wretch! Now you've lost a fine horse!"

"Did I not say to hold your ground?" Jace called out, his voice weary. "Fleeing will do no good. We must be patient."

Taris moved in. This time, the Goblin hurled a Centipede at Aldreya. The young Birlote sorceress had her own burning dagger in front of her. She screamed, even as the Centipede disintegrated against the blade, and toppled from her horse.

"I've had enough of this!" Taris said.

"Wait!" Jace insisted. "If we rush in, some of us will die!"

But the Tower Master ignored him, clearly enraged. Taris' stone dagger burned so hot the others couldn't look at it, the green fire becoming almost white in hue. The creature shrank back, blinded. But then the Host Goblin launched a flurry of projectiles at the company, even as Taris leapt in and struck with his dagger.

Taris drove his dagger into the Goblin three times, causing the creature to erupt into green flames. As the Host Goblin crumbled to the ground, burning, a cry of agony arose from near Lannon. One of the Blue Knights had thrown himself in front of Lannon to block a flying Centipede--and it had struck him in the throat. His howl was choked off as he lay in the mud, and soon his body went still.

Reacting on instinct, the Knight had leapt onto Lannon's horse to shield him. But he'd been too slow in raising his sword to block the projectile. The Centipede had poisoned him on contact, and he'd died in a matter of seconds from the sorcery-infested venom--perhaps even before he hit the ground.

Lannon stared down at the fallen Knight in shock. The Eye of Divinity revealed the Knight's spirit, departing from his body in death--like a luminous mist uncoiling into the air. Lannon looked away, not wanting to know the path of the dead. He wondered if he could have stopped the projectile with his power, if the Knight's death had been needless.

With a cry of sorrow and anger, Lannon seized the Centipede with the Eye before it could escape and crushed it into ruin. But the damage was done, and not even the great Eye of Divinity could change that fact.

Taris bowed his head, as he stood over the Host Goblin's remains. He didn't turn around. "Check on the fallen Knight, Jace."

His face somber, Jace did as ordered. "Zannin Firespear is dead, Taris."

"Wretched Goblins!" Thrake Wolfaxe bellowed.

Willan Shadowwalker, the other Blue Knight of the company, knelt by the body and groaned. "He was my friend, and I fought with him through many battles. I thought he would live forever."

"I should have listened to you, Jace," said Taris. "My impatience got the best of me, and now a Knight is dead."

"Perhaps," said Jace, "but this could have happened regardless. Or even more could have died."

"It might not have been necessary," said Lannon, feeling horrible inside. "I could have saved myself. The Eye would have protected me."

"Don't ever speak such words," Taris said, whirling around, his scarred face twisted in anger. "Zannin swore an oath to protect you, and he fulfilled that oath. You should feel nothing but gratitude over his actions."

Lannon nodded. "I just didn't want this to happen." He hadn't known Zannin, but that didn't make the burden any easier to bear.

"He did what he felt he needed to do," said Jace, shrugging. "Don't blame yourself, Lannon. Things like this happen."

"Willan, you will take his body back to Dremlock," said Taris. "I will replace you at Lannon's side."

"Afterwards, I will return and fulfill my vow," said Willan.

"No," said Taris. "You will remain at Dremlock and mourn your friend. You can fulfill your vow later."

Willan nodded, his eyes haunted by his pain.

Taris started to say something more, but then his eyes glazed over. He reached up and touched the scars that covered half of his face. His legs sagged beneath him and he collapsed to one knee.

Jace grabbed his shoulder. "What ails you?"

"My wound is not fully healed," said Taris.

Instinctively, Lannon focused the Eye of Divinity on Taris' face. He could see creeping shadows, like tiny serpents, slithering over Taris' scarred flesh. These fragments of dark sorcery caused pain and doubt, but somehow the sorcerer hid it well most of the time. Taris was fighting a fierce battle of wills with the evil sorcery that was still trying to burrow deeper into his being. Lannon was appalled at how much pain Taris was experiencing--and he was amazed at the sorcerer's endurance. The injury was terrifying, and it made Lannon all the more reluctant to engage in his forthcoming duel.

Taris took Timlin aside and chastised him for fleeing. Lannon couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see that Timlin's face was red with shame. At one point, Timlin turned and started to walk away, but Taris seized his tunic and whirled him around, obviously not finished with the lad.

The mood was somber as the Knights lit a pyre for the fallen horse. The grim faces told the tale--that everyone was thinking of the slain Knight. Taris knelt before the fire and bowed his head, as if in prayer. The others did the same, except for Jace, who stood leaning against a tree and smoking a pipe.

When the ritual was finished, they resumed their trek down the mountain. A steady spring rain began to fall, adding to their woes. They passed a few inns where they could have taken refuge--including the Knights Lore Inn, where Lannon had stayed during his initial journey to Dremlock. But the company was determined to ride on and make the most of daylight. By the time the terrain leveled off, they were soaked to the skin and splashed with mud.

Lannon sat hunched in the saddle, rain dripping from his face, the death of Zannin weighing heavily on his heart and the dread of the impending duel haunting his mind. It seemed utterly foolish to ride out and abandon Dremlock, as if they were content to blunder into an obvious trap that had already cost the life of a Knight. He wanted to complain to Taris about it, but he knew Taris would only react with anger. He was on his way to the duel and that was that.

Lannon noticed, however, that Taris kept glancing his way. Lannon ignored it at first, too sullen and miserable to question the sorcerer. But at last he muttered, "Is something wrong, Master Taris?"

"You saw deeper into my wound," said Taris, running his fingers over the scars on his face, beneath his hood. "You glimpsed my pain, my struggle."

"I saw...shadows," said Lannon, shrugging.

"It struck fear in your heart," said Taris, nodding at his own words. "You can't accept the fact that we are forcing you--a mere Squire of Dremlock--to fight in what could be a duel to the death."

"I don't understand it," said Lannon, grateful for a chance to voice his feelings. "I don't feel ready for this."

"You are training to be a Divine Knight," said Taris. "Both Knights and Squires are sometimes called upon to fight duels. There is nothing unusual about this. We have fought duels against the Blood Legion for centuries, and we have solved many disputes that way. You must bear in mind that ours is a holy kingdom that serves the Divine Essence. We are sworn to protect Dremlock at all costs. Serving our god is more important even than living, and if we can serve it better by sacrificing our lives in combat, then that is what we must do."

Lannon nodded, but he wasn't fond of Taris' words. Lannon didn't want to die for any reason--even for the Divine Essence. "You're right," he mumbled. "It is my duty, of course."

"But you don't believe I'm right," said Taris, smiling. "You wonder why you should risk your life for a shattered god that looks like a lump of crystal--a god who you're not even allowed to cast your gaze upon. Do not lie to me."

Lannon sighed. "I guess you know me well, Master Taris."

"I know what I see, lad," said Taris. "But let me tell you that a real Divine Knight is not born from study and training. When the time comes, you will do what you must do. The fact that you ride with us now is proof of that." Taris winked at him. "If I were to call off this journey, you would question me. And if you thought calling it off was a bad decision, you would press me to continue on."

Lannon considered Taris' words, but he wasn't as sure about them as the sorcerer seemed to be. "Do you really think so?"

"I do," said Taris. "You have far more courage than you know."

"Not as much as you have," said Lannon.

"Yes, my wound runs deep," said Taris, his face darkening. "It threatens my mind--evil sorcery that bites into my flesh, again and again. In all my years, I have never experienced anything this terrible."

"You shouldn't be on the journey," said Lannon. "You need rest."

"I will rest soon enough," said Taris. "When I retire."

Lannon's eyes widened. "Retire? You can't retire!"

"I certainly can," said Taris. "I have earned the right. And I am weary to the core. The agony I suffer is taking quite a toll on me, young Squire. I'm not the same man who rode with you to Dremlock."

"There must be a way to heal you," said Lannon, struggling to imagine Dremlock without Taris Warhawk. "What about the Eye of Divinity?"

"The Eye does not heal," said Taris. "It gains knowledge and moves objects. I have never heard of the Eye being used as a healing method."

"But the dark sorcery is like an enemy," said Lannon. "Maybe I could seize it and...and get rid of it somehow."

"No," said Taris, "it is more like a disease that requires special healing. If the White Knights of Dremlock cannot cure me, I am finished as a Divine Knight. I'll retire to my forest kingdom of Borenthia, where my pain can be managed. And there I will live in peace and let my body age naturally until death ends my suffering. My body cannot endure much more, and soon I will be forced to ride to my homeland and seek the council of the Birlote Wizards."

Lannon nodded. He hated the thought of Taris leaving Dremlock, but he understood the sorcerer's reasons. "We'll find some way to cure you, Master Taris. I know we will. I need your guidance."

"If we can obtain the gauntlet that inflicted my wound," said Taris, "and study it, there might be a chance of finding a way to rid my body of this infection. Now, do you still want to end this quest and return to Dremlock?"

Lannon found, to his surprise, that he wanted to continue on. He wanted to help Taris at all costs. "No, I'll find some way to win that duel, and we'll claim the gauntlet."

Taris smiled. "There is some of that courage I mentioned. Now you're ready to risk everything--because I've made it personal." He leaned a bit closer and whispered, "That is real courage, my young friend. It comes from the heart. I've seen many Knights who seemed to have unyielding honor and courage falter or become corrupted. And I've seen some like you, who doubted whether they had any courage at all, do whatever needed to be done when the time came. Dremlock and the god below it mean little to you at this point. But people mean everything to you, and that is all you need to be a great Knight."

Lannon was grateful for Taris' encouragement. He knew that it was Taris' duty to keep the Squires from losing confidence in themselves, but the sorcerer's words left Lannon sitting a bit taller in the saddle. He found himself anxious to get on with the duel, as he knew Taris was in constant torment. He realized that Taris seemed to know Lannon better than Lannon knew himself at times.

Suddenly, Timlin cried out a warning and pointed at the sky. Lannon gazed upward, using the Eye of Divinity, but even with his power he could see nothing through the rain but grey clouds. Raindrops battered his eyeballs, and the Eye of Divinity faltered. Instinctively, Lannon threw up his arm protectively, wondering what new threat Timlin's keen vision had spotted.

"I see it!" Taris said, shielding his eyes as he stared upward. "A Vulture, I believe--circling high overhead. The rain does not trouble it. Well done, Timlin. You have taken a step toward redeeming yourself."

"Timlin has sharper vision than a Birlote," said Aldreya, moving wet, tangled hair from her eyes. "It's too bad he lacks courage."

Timlin's face reddened, and he seemed about to say something. But then he glanced at Taris and lowered his gaze.

Jerret shook his head. "You know I love you, Aldreya. But that's not a nice thing to say to a fellow Squire."

Aldreya's looked confused. "You love me?"

"As a friend and fellow Squire, of course," said Jerret, winking at her. "But Timlin doesn't need to hear that right now. He just lost his wits back there. It could happen to any of us. I thought about fleeing too."

"Silence, Squires!" Taris commanded.

"Could be just a stray Goblin from the Bloodlands," Jace called back, sounding impatient. "Vultures are not an uncommon sight in this region."

"Perhaps," said Taris, "but my instincts tell me it's a spy." He signaled to the archers, and they fired arrows toward the heavens.

Moments later, a dark shape fell to earth--a Goblin Vulture with a very humanoid head and a mouth that resembled a bloody gash. Lannon shuddered. The creature's black eyes seemed fixed on him, even in death.

"Either way," said Taris," one less Goblin to haunt the land."

But then two more Vultures appeared, diving toward Lannon through the rain. They erupted into bloodcurdling screeches as they descended, their claws stretched out to rip at his flesh. The archers killed one of the beasts, and Timlin shot the other. The Vultures flopped around in the mud before going still.

Lannon turned and waved to Timlin, grateful the little fellow was watching his back. Amongst the Squires, Timlin was the best archer at Dremlock. Lannon realized something wasn't right, however. That had been a weak attempt on his life--too weak to be considered anything but a prelude or a diversion.

And sure enough, seven Jackal Goblins leapt from the fog and charged at Lannon, their long teeth and claws like jagged knife blades. They moved with tremendous speed and agility as they bounded over the earth.

Jace leapt from his horse and tackled one of them, bearing it to the ground. Man and beast rolled around in the mud. Meanwhile, Timlin caught one of the Jackals in the shoulder with an arrow, but the Goblin kept charging. Taris and Vorden rode in front of Lannon to protect him, their weapons drawn.

The archers, unable to get a clear shot, held back with their arrows ready. But Timlin kept firing. He shot another Jackal in the neck, and this time the beast went down in a mass of flailing arms and legs.

Taris hurled green fire from his dagger and burned a Jackal to ash. Another Jackal charged at Vorden but then bounded over him, knocking Lannon from his horse. With the others engaged in battle with the remaining Goblins, and the archers left with no clear shot, Lannon was forced to fend for himself.

The thought of Taris' suffering filled Lannon with anger, and he seized the Jackal with the Eye of Divinity and shoved it off him. He drew his Dragon sword and ran the creature through. Unable to move, the beast was an easy target for a well-trained Squire like Lannon. The Dragon Sword seemed to fly right to the Jackal's heart. Lannon hated killing anything, but as a Squire of Dremlock, it was unavoidable. His life was destined to be one of combat and bloodshed, though he remained determined to avoid killing whenever possible.

Meanwhile, Jace rose from the mud, gripping in one huge hand the Jackal he'd been fighting with. The Jackal was limp in death, and Jace cast it aside--his gaze focused intently on Lannon.

Thrake slew two of the Jackals from horseback--his axe smoldering with crimson fire as he struck. The blade seemed webbed in red and black, pulsating veins. The huge, dark-skinned Red Knight drove into his foes with terrible impact, his axe burning through thick Goblin hide and crushing stout Goblin bone with ease. The mystical fire erupted on contact, throwing up sparks and bits of smoldering hide. Hot coals bounced off Thrake's bald head and some got caught in his bushy black beard, but he casually brushed them away.

Aldreya cast green fire from her dagger onto a Jackal's hide, where it quickly spread. Completely engulfed in flames, the beast ran howling into the fog, leaving a trail of black smoke. Aldreya cried after it in triumph. Lannon knew that she found Jackals particularly revolting.

Taris and Vorden dispatched all but one of the remaining Goblins. Vorden suffered shallow claw wounds to the arm, but overall he displayed the combat skills that made him the top Squire in his age group at Dremlock. He fought like a fully trained Knight, carving up his foe with deadly precision. Taris' sorcerous fire seemed to burn hot with rage, incinerating the Goblins it touched--as if the pain from his wound was causing him to lash out viciously at his foes.

The remaining Jackal got around the two defenders and charged at Lannon, only to stagger and collapse--impaled with three arrows from the archers, who had ridden closer and found an opening. The beast tried to rise again, its muzzle curled into a snarl of rage, but another arrow pierced its eye and finished it off.

With the ambush seemingly ended, they burned the bodies of the Jackals before moving on. Lannon wondered how many more attacks they would have to fend off before they reached Serenlock Castle. Obviously, the demon man had chosen an arena that was far enough from Dremlock that multiple ambushes could take place. With one Knight dead already, it seemed their foes were trying to wear them down. Lannon wondered if the demon man actually intended to have a duel or if he was simply planning a series of attacks and assassination attempts.

The rain held steady as the day wore on. They rode swiftly in spite of the weather and the need to stay alert, and soon they found themselves in the Northern Hills, also known as the Elder Lands. Tall, grassy hills sprawled as far as the eye could see, some displaying crumbling stone ruins. The thick pine forests of the Firepit Mountains had given way to mostly open country, with occasional lone pines or wooded groves here and there.

As they worked their way down the long, steep, muddy slope of a hill, Taris suddenly toppled from his horse. Ordering the company to halt and hold position, Thrake Wolfaxe--the second in command--leapt down from the saddle and knelt by the sorcerer. Thrake tried to lift Taris, but Taris pushed his hands away. The sorcerer's eyes smoldered with anger and frustration.

"I can stand on my own," Taris insisted, trying to rise.

"Let Thrake help you," Lannon said, stunned at what he saw.

"Yes, let him help you," Aldreya said, her eyes wide.

"I'm fine," Taris said. "I just need a moment. My mind... It grew weak and clouded. I gave in." At last, he struggled up from the ground and managed to climb back onto his horse. He seemed to be gasping for breath in the saddle.

Lannon hated to see the Tower Master in such a feeble condition. "Maybe you should return to Dremlock, Master Taris."

"No!" Taris interrupted, his devilish face twisted with disgust at the thought. "I will press on, and I will be fine. And none of you shall speak of what you saw. If word gets around that a Tower Master fell off his horse..." His face turned crimson with shame.

"We should call this off," said Thrake. "A Knight is dead, a Knight has returned to Dremlock bearing the body, and we are weakened and weary. This was a foolish venture to begin with. Riding out into seemingly endless ambush with only a small company of Knights..."

Taris nodded. "Perhaps, but I will give Lannon the choice. He is the one who must partake in the duel. What say you, Lannon?"

Lannon sighed, wishing the burden was not his to bear. If he decided to continue, more Knights--or even some of his friends--could die. But if he didn't continue, they would not gain possession of the demon man's gauntlet, and Taris could not be cured. Lannon feared for Taris' life.

"I don't know," said Lannon, shrugging helplessly.

"You must make a firm decision," said Taris.

"I say we press on," said Vorden. The dark-haired lad seemed eager for combat, his hand locked in a fierce grip around the hilt of his bizarre spider sword.

"I agree," said Timlin. "I want to kill more Goblins!"

"It's your decision, Lannon," said Aldreya. She gazed at Taris with fear in her eyes. "But maybe we should turn back."

"I think we've had enough," said Jerret, who looked terrified. "This seems to be an ill-fated quest."

"I'm all for turning back," said Thrake. "What about you, Jace?"

"I think we should continue on," said Jace, "if Taris thinks he can endure it. We came this far. The ruins of Serenlock are near."

"You have heard the others," said Taris, "and myself. Now, Lannon, what is your decision? You alone will bear the responsibility."

Lannon felt a twinge of anger. Why was Taris placing such a huge burden on a mere Squire? "I guess we'll keep going for now," said Lannon. "We're almost there. And I guess it's our duty to see it through."

Taris gazed at him sternly. "Then you're prepared to fight this duel?"

Lannon nodded, wondering if he'd lost his wits.

"Then we ride for Serenlock," said Taris.

"Maybe not," Jace said casually. "We might not have to go there." Jace pointed at a nearby hill. A dark figure stood atop it, watching them. "My eyesight isn't the greatest, but I do believe that is our demon fellow."

Taris squinted. "Yes, it is him! Ride!"

With that, the Tower Master rode off through the wet grass. The others followed, the Greywinds leaping over rocks and bleached logs that were barely visible in the tall grass. The figure on the hilltop stood motionless, but once the company started up the hill, the figure turned and fled.

When they reached the top, they found themselves gazing down into a valley of dead pines, ash, and hardened lava--called a Fire Reach. Through the center of the dead forest, winding like a crimson snake, was a swirling river of lava that never cooled. Rain hissed as it landed in the river, causing jets of steam to rise. What kept the lava in molten form was not known, but such eternally smoldering rivers were unique to Silverland. The demon man stood by the crimson river below, motioning to them with his gauntlet-covered hand. The two blue, glowing crystals in the glove beckoned them with a cold light.

"A Fire Reach!" said Thrake. "Very dangerous. This is a region sacred to Tharnin. It is certain to contain a well-guarded shrine."

"We ride on," Taris insisted, starting down the hill.

When the company reached the blackened river bank, the demon man had already fled deeper into the dead forest. Lannon had never been in an area as strange as the Fire Reach. It had the same holy feel as the Temple of Dremlock--but it also had a sinister and evil aura. This seemed to be a place of profound suffering and sacrifice. The huge dead pines were like charred bones rising from the lava-encrusted earth. The horses' iron shoes made loud clopping noises on the hard, black forest floor. Unsure of which way to go, they simply followed Taris along the river. In spite of the cool rain, the heat from the molten lava made them sweat.

At last they spotted a shrine through the trees. It was an arch with a pillar on either side--and it seemed to be made of hardened lava. The pillars and arch were lumpy with the shapes of skulls and bones. Also on each pillar was a large, demonic face. At the base of the shine were urns filled with ash.

Standing below the arch was the demon man, flanked by two Goblin Lords. The Goblin Lords held dark, twisted staffs, and crimson runes were painted on their foreheads. These were Priests of Tharnin--extremely powerful and intelligent Goblins who commanded sorcery. Their black eyes were filled with evil. The demon man still wore no shirt, and his bare chest was marked with ash runes. His gaunt face and bony ribs made him look half starved. He'd shaved his head bald, but had left a few crude patches of hair in the process.

"Welcome!" said the demon man. "I grew a bit impatient and decided to meet you here." He grinned at Lannon. "Are you ready for the duel?"

Lannon nodded, struggling to hide the terror he was feeling. This area made him feel weak, like an intruder in a sacred realm who must surely be destroyed. He felt like he was committing a grave wrong by being there.

"The Goblins must stand aside," said Taris. "If they try to interfere, my archers will make quick work of them."

"They tend this shrine," said the demon man. "They have no interest in interfering. We are the intruders here. These urns contain the ashes of those who have died fighting for the Lords of Tharnin. In this case, members of the Blood Legion who sacrificed themselves. Fallen Knights. Dremlock considers itself a holy kingdom, but it's really a fortress of despair built around a feeble creature that calls itself a god. Real gods dwell in the Realm of Tharnin."

"We didn't come here to be lectured," said Taris, "especially by a slave like you. We came for the duel."

The demon man laughed. "Well, this slave scarred your face and left you a weak, sickened man. Does that enrage you, Birlote? Have you come to see me destroyed, so you will have revenge?"

Taris didn't reply, though his face twitched.

A hint of a smile appeared on Jace's lips. The demon man glanced toward Jace and hissed. "What amuses you, Knight?"

"I'm not a Knight," said Jace. "And I'm amused by your weak personality. You remind me of a simple Goblin--like your priests there. The gauntlet you wear--this Hand of Tharnin--is an awkward fit for you. I'm convinced it could not have chosen a weaker host."

"You speak nonsense," said the demon man. "How dare you mock me? I'll kill you for that insult!"

"Listen to yourself," said Jace, with a chuckle. "You're not capable of intelligent conversation. You might as well just hiss like a snake. The gauntlet has failed miserably to enhance you and would probably just as soon be free of you. And that's precisely why Lannon will defeat you."

Lannon wasn't sure if it was wise for Jace to enrage the demon man, but he suspected Jace had some strategy in mind.

"Send the priests away," said Taris. "Then the duel can begin."

"Of course," said the demon man, waving them away. "As I said, they will not interfere unless the shrine is threatened."

The priests moved off amongst the trees, but stood watching. The archers trained their arrows on them.

Lannon glanced at Taris for instructions, but Taris simply motioned him toward the demon man. Slowly, Lannon dismounted and approached him, until the two foes stood about five feet apart in the rain. The demon man held up his gauntlet, so the two blue stones were facing Lannon. The light that the stones emitted was cold, but the air suddenly felt warped with heat. The Eye of Divinity revealed that the Fire Reach was an appropriate name, for the soil and air were infested with a fiery type of dark sorcery. These flames of evil were drawn into the gauntlet, enhancing its power. The demon man's face displayed a leer of supreme confidence--like the hideous faces sculpted on the pillars of the shrine.

The rain hissed as it made contact with the demon man, steam rising from his flesh. The air grew so hot the others--save for Taris--moved back a bit, protecting their faces. Lannon used the Eye of Divinity like a shield against the heat. Flames rose from the blackened earth, and the shrine pillars grew red hot.

"So this is where it ends," said the demon man. "You should never have been brought to Dremlock. You are not even a grown man yet. I hate to have to slay a child. It is rather unbecoming of a warrior like me. But I am left with no choice. The Knights, however, are to blame for your death."

Lannon said nothing, struggling to stay focused and block out the raging heat. He had no idea how Taris was able to withstand it, but the sorcerer sat rigidly in the saddle, stone dagger in hand. The scarred region of Taris' face seemed darkened by shadow, with his left eye gleaming yellow.

The demon man licked his lips. "The Eye of Divinity versus The Hand of Tharnin. What a grand duel that would be, were you not a pathetic and unskilled lad who was never fit to be a Knight to begin with."

Lannon realized the demon man might be trying to tire him, as Lannon had to keep protecting himself from the heat. The demon man undoubtedly expected Lannon to keep listening to his boasts and wait for him to make the first move.

"Your death will very painful," the demon man went on. "You will be roasted alive. Before all is said and done--"

Lannon seized him with Eye of Divinity, squeezing with all his might. He hoped to catch the demon man off guard and simply crush him--and be done with the whole affair. He hated the thought of killing a man (even a man as vile as this) but he was desperate to end the duel quickly. And for an instant he thought he was succeeding brilliantly. The demon man's eyes sprang open wide and his flesh gave way beneath the power of the Eye. But then the blue stones in the gauntlet shone brighter, and the Eye was pushed back.

The demon man snarled in rage and the heat grew more intense. Lannon thought his clothes and hair might burst into flames. The metal glove turned red hot, with the blue stones contrasting it. Slowly, the demon man began to move toward Lannon, the gauntlet turning and the fingers opening like claws. The smell of scorching iron was strong in Lannon's nostrils.

Lannon fought back fiercely, but his panic began to disrupt his focus. He could only watch in horror as the fingers reached for his throat. Then the Eye seemed to strengthen, and he shoved the demon man away.

With a snarl, the demon man lifted a rock with the gauntlet and flung it at Jace. The projectile nearly caught Jace off guard, but he ducked at the last instant and it missed his head by inches.

"The duel is broken!" Taris cried.

The demon man charged at Lannon, but again the Squire seized him with the Eye and froze him, while intense heat again threatened to overcome Lannon. And then a dark blade hurtled past Lannon and stuck in the demon man's shoulder--Vorden's spider sword, thrown like a spear. With a howl, the demon man staggered, clutching at the weapon. The flames and heat died down.

Weakened, Lannon fell to one knee. Taris jumped from his horse and attacked the demon man with his burning dagger, but the demon man knocked the weapon aside with his gauntlet and shoved Taris into a tree. The sorcerer fell to the ground and lay still, clutching his head with both hands.

The demon man hurled Vorden's sword aside, and then three arrows from the archers struck him--but the arrows glanced off an invisible shield. Hissing in fury, the demon man hurled a fireball from his gauntlet at the archers, scattering them. Timlin rode off to one side, preparing to shoot, and the demon man turned to face him. Timlin fired two arrows with astounding speed, but both were deflected as if they were simply annoying twigs.

Then Jace leapt from his horse and charged the demon man. When the demon man glimpsed the fact that Jace was unarmed, he sneered in contempt, not bothering to guard himself. Jace smashed his hand down on the fellow's head. The demon man stared at Jace, looking dazed. Jace smashed him twice more on the skull, and this time the demon man's eyes rolled back. He grabbed Jace with the gauntlet and hurled the huge man onto some rocks.

Thrake charged the demon man from horseback, slamming his smoldering axe down for the kill. But the demon man smashed the powerful axe aside with his gauntlet, causing an explosion of fire and sparks, and Thrake was thrown from his horse. The Red Knight landed with a clatter of armor.

The demon man turned back toward Lannon, deflecting more arrows and flame from Aldreya's dagger. But he couldn't seem to focus. He staggered, his eyes still showing their whites from the blows Jace had inflicted.

Lannon managed to regain some of his strength, and once again he seized the demon man with the Eye of Divinity. This time he squeezed the man's throat--and found little resistance. He easily choked the man until he was unconscious, and then quickly released him, hoping he hadn't killed him. But the Eye revealed that Lannon's foe was alive and not critically wounded.

Groaning, Jace rose from the rocks and rolled the demon man over. "Vorden, fetch the coil of Birlote rope from my horse."

The archers leapt down from their horses to tend to the fallen Knights. Thrake stood up on his own, having suffered a small gash to the head, but Taris was unconscious and had to be awakened and helped up.

Once Jace had bound the demon man securely, his face broke into a grin. "We've got him now, my friends! This Birlote rope cannot be burned and is immensely strong--stronger than iron. Soon the mysteries of this Hand of Tharnin will be solved!"

As Taris was helped onto his horse, the ever-alert Tower Master mumbled, "Beware of those two priests, who are still lurking nearby."

But the priests never showed themselves.