Knights The Heart of Shadows

Knights The Heart of Shadows - By Robert E. Keller

Chapter 1: The Assassin

"Two Knights were found dead," said Jerret Dragonsbane, his handsome face grim in the torchlight that partially lit the stone tunnel. "Jace thinks they were assassinated with evil sorcery." But Jerret's grim expression was fake and couldn't disguise a hint of excitement that revealed his growing love of battle and bloodshed. His hand was clamped around the hilt of his broadsword.

Jerret and Lannon Sunshield stood in one of the many underground passageways of the fortress of Dorok's Hand. Thick, rune-covered pillars, encircled by crimson vines that needed no water or sunlight, lined the tunnel. As usual, it was freezing cold and both Squires were wrapped in fur cloaks. Jerret overshadowed Lannon in size. The two Squires looked alike--with fair skin and unkempt blond hair--except that Jerret had put on more muscle than Lannon during his time as a Squire. Thanks to extensive training from Thrake Wolfaxe, Jerret had become a hulking brute while Lannon retained his lean form.

Lannon sighed and leaned wearily against the tunnel wall, his dreams of a peaceful winter shattered by Jerret's bad news. If an assassin was on the loose, Lannon was sure to be one of the prime targets. The Eye of Divinity would never let him rest, as the children of the Deep Shadow hunted him relentlessly. Once again he wished he were back at Dremlock Kingdom and far away from this ancient and dreary mountain keep.

Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight and sorcerer, was apparently dead--killed by Lannon's unpredictable power. And Vorden Flameblade was locked away forever in some pit of Tharnin. Yet Vorden's influence remained. Lannon's nightmares were filled with images of the Hand of Tharnin bursting forth from the earth to latch onto his throat and of yellow eyes smoldering in the shadows. Timlin Woodmaster was still firmly under that influence, plotting Dremlock's demise. Lannon suspected Timlin was behind this latest attack.

"Looks like this fortress is no longer safe," said Jerret, partially drawing his blade, "which probably means you'll end up guarded day and night again." The muscular, blond-haired Squire glanced nervously along the tunnel. "And my instincts tell me you should welcome it."

Lannon nodded. While the Divine Shield that had protected Lannon and Prince Vannas of the Birlotes had not officially been dissolved, Lannon and his fellow Squires had been given plenty of freedom to move about unguarded in the fortress. Lannon had been walking alone through the tunnels--on his way to the Dining Hall for lunch--before encountering Jerret.

"A dead Jackal Goblin was also found," Jerret went on. "It was killed in the same manner as the two Knights. The Jackal was a prisoner being led to the lower dungeons for study--when the trio was ambushed. Taris wants you to examine the Jackal's body and learn how it was slain."

Lannon's mood lightened some at the mention of Taris Warhawk. "Taris is here, in Dorok's Hand? When did he arrive?"

"A few hours ago," said Jerret. "He came with a small company of Knights. I've heard he looks to be in great health."

Lannon was eager to see Taris, but the news of the slain Knights kept his spirits low. "I wonder why Taris came here."

Jerret didn't answer. He yanked his sword free of its sheath. "I'll lead you to him."

"Put the sword away," said Lannon, annoyed. "It isn't necessary." Lannon was weary of Jerret's relentless drive to prove his worth as a Squire. He feared Jerret was going to meet a wretched fate if he continued along that path.

Jerret frowned. "Don't be so sure. And besides, as a member of the Divine Shield, I'm sworn to guard your life."

Lannon sighed. "Fine, lead the way then."

But Jerret hesitated, a new gleam of fear springing into his eyes as he stared past Lannon down the tunnel. He raised his sword. Chills flooding over him, Lannon whirled around to see a dark figure standing in the passageway. For an instant Lannon thought the assassin had found him, and the Eye of Divinity sprang to life.

But it was only Shennen Silverarrow, the famed Blue Knight of Dremlock. He approached them casually, and his face, which bore high cheekbones and seemed a bit weathered for a Tree Dweller, was emotionless. As usual, his eyes held a cold and sullen glint. His silver hair was cut short--a rarity for a Birlote. He was a warrior of such skill and reputation (and short temper) that many of the other Knights feared him. Although he wasn't a large man, his lean frame was knotted with muscle and he was extremely swift and agile. But his mastery of his sword--the terrifying precision with which he carved up his Goblin foes--was what had earned Shennen most of his respect.

Jerret breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his sword. Lannon let the Eye falter. The two Squires bowed.

Shennen nodded in return. His face looked unusually pale. "There is work to be done, Lannon. Are you prepared?"

"I'm ready," said Lannon, though Shennen's tone was so grim that Lannon actually wasn't so sure.

Shennen's cold gaze fell on Jerret. "Put your sword away, Squire. Assassin or not, we walk around with sheathed blades in this fortress."

Frowning, Jerret sheathed the sword.

"Did either of you know the Knights who were assassinated?" asked Shennen. "Blain Goldenhelm and Elbur Fairblade?"

They both nodded. Lannon had spoken to Blain--an enthusiastic young Grey Dwarf with a good sense of humor--on several occasions. Elbur Fairblade was a Birlote archer, and like most of the Tree Dwellers, he'd been quiet and reserved.

"Then take a moment to grieve," said Shennen, folding his arms across his chest and bowing his head.

An awkward silence followed, as Lannon found himself dreading the task of examining the hideous Jackal Goblin. He wanted to get it over with. He bowed his head, however, and did grieve for a moment. Finally he looked up, but Shennen's head was still bowed, and so he lowered his own again. The moments slipped past as Lannon waited impatiently.

At last, Shennen looked up and sighed. "Yes, very good. The task that awaits you will be unpleasant."

Lannon nodded, his throat dry.

"After this task is done," said Shennen, "I have yet another task for you--this one not quite as grim, but...perhaps as equally important. I have some Goblin bones I would like you to study."

"Goblin bones?" said Lannon.

"From a very powerful Goblin," said Shennen, a strange expression on his face. "I'm speaking of the Great Dragon that died before the gates of this fortress. But it is still just a pile of bones and nothing to be too concerned with."

"I thought the Dragon burned to ash," said Lannon.

Shennen shook his head. "Some of its bones survived."

"May I ask why you need my help in examining the bones, Master Shennen?" Lannon cringed inside at the thought of it.

Shennen nodded. "I have a great interest in studying the remains of the dead--in particular the remains of Goblins. However, I have reached a barrier I cannot cross. I need to be able to see things on a deeper level. I believe the Eye of Divinity can provide that. My research is incredibly important."

That last statement failed to inspire Lannon. He had no desire to go near the bones of the Dragon--a creature that lived on in his nightmares. Over and over he dreamt of the massive, insect-like monster with the bodies of its victims dangling from stingers beneath it. He dreamt of the enormous purple eyes filled with endless depth, as the creature bore down on him. The Dragon was dead, but its aura remained in Lannon's soul and perhaps always would. Its presence also seemed to linger before the gates of Dorok's Hand, a gloomy feel in the air near where the Dragon had fallen. It was almost as if the creature wasn't truly dead.

"Taris and Furlus await us in a supply chamber," said Shennen, motioning. With that, he started off down the tunnel.

Exchanging an uncertain glance, Lannon and Jerret followed.

"How is your training progressing?" Shennen asked them, as they navigated the tunnels. "And I'm referring to your training as Blue Squires."

Neither Squire answered. Lannon had all but abandoned anything to do with his color class--instead preferring to train himself in the use of the Eye of Divinity and general swordplay. Jerret still trained as a Red Squire, in spite of being ordered to convert to Blue, specializing in close, heavy combat.

"I see," said Shennen, glancing at them and frowning. "You have neglected your color class. I'm disappointed, but right now it isn't something I can concern myself with." His gaze seemed to grow distant. "Too many greater issues..."

"Are you okay, Master Shennen," Lannon asked, perplexed by the Blue Knight's odd behavior. "You seem a bit distracted."

"Distracted?" mumbled Shennen. "Yes, I am. You'll come to understand why in due time. It concerns those Dragon bones."

Lannon wanted to press him for more information, but he sensed Shennen wouldn't take kindly to it. Lannon could have probed him with the Eye, but he feared to use his power on a Knight of Shennen's stature unless given no choice, just in case his attempt at spying was discovered and he was punished for it. Also, Lannon was not one to violate the Sacred Laws of Dremlock.

But Jerret wasn't about to stay quiet on the issue. "So what about the bones?" His eyes lit up. "Could weapons be made from them, like Lannon's sword?"

Shennen paused and glanced about slowly, as if scanning the shadows for danger. Then he said, "Jerret, the bones of a Great Dragon are too evil and dangerous to be forged into weapons fit for Divine Knights."

"But my sword isn't evil," said Lannon, wondering why Shennen's gaze was suddenly fixed on his blade. He grabbed the hilt protectively. "At least, Taris didn't think so or he wouldn't have bought it for me."

"Taris was correct," said Shennen. "Your sword is not evil. In fact, it will adapt to your demeanor over time and become a reflection of it." He extended his hand. "Give me the sword."

Wondering what Shennen was planning, Lannon drew the light blade and handed it over. Lannon had grown very attached to the sword (and the sword to him) and it felt wrong to part with it. He wanted to snatch it back.

Shennen examined it in the torchlight. "Such a beautiful weapon--nearly flawless in design. A blade like this is very rare. Made from a lesser Dragon that was nothing like the great beast that slew so many of our Knights. Just a small one, more like a Vulture, but a real Dragon nonetheless. This blade will always be part of you, Lannon. It can channel and enhance your sorcery."

"I can't use sorcery," said Lannon. "I never learned how."

Shennen raised his eyebrows. "Oh, is that so? What do you call the Eye of Divinity, if not sorcery?"

"But I can't channel the Eye into a weapon," said Lannon.

Shennen smirked. "A foolish assumption. A blade like this could indeed receive the Eye. It has the same potential as Glaetherin--the invincible metal of the Olrogs. You should try it before you dismiss the possibility."

Lannon didn't answer out of politeness, but he believed Shennen was mistaken. The Eye of Divinity didn't work like Knightly sorcery. It didn't generate the magical fire that made Knightly weapons so dangerous. The Eye could move objects (even heavy ones, when used on instinct) at a distance, it could shield Lannon's body, and it could gain hidden knowledge. And apparently the Eye could also become a deadly, explosive force under the right circumstances--which Tenneth Bard had discovered to his chagrin during Lannon's last encounter with him. But it couldn't generate even a flicker of flame. Lannon felt that Shennen simply didn't understand how the Eye of Divinity worked. Even Taris seemed to know little about it.

"Well discuss it later," said Shennen, handing the sword back to Lannon. "For now, we must concern ourselves with this assassin." He scowled. "Such a wretched distraction."

"A distraction from what?" said Lannon. For some unknown reason, Shennen's words provoked deep anxiety in Lannon

But Shennen didn't reply.

***

Taris, Furlus, and Jace were gathered in the shadowy storage room that was lit by a single small torch, where the dead Jackal Goblin was laying upon crates. Also present was someone Lannon hadn't seen in a long time--Saranna the Ranger and her wolf companion Darius. Lannon was pleased to see Taris looking so healthy, aside from a troubled expression and the permanent cluster of scars where the Hand of Tharnin had burned one half of the sorcerer's face.

"Greetings, Lannon," said Taris. His hood was thrown back, and Lannon noticed one of Taris' pointed ears had also been burned and was nearly closed shut by scars. The Hand of Tharnin had taken quite a toll on him.

"Lannon bowed. "Glad to see you're feeling better."

"Thank you," said the Tower Master. "Now let's get right to business." He pointed at the dead Jackal and said, "Dark sorcery infests this beast. An exceptionally nasty sort that could give you trouble."

Lannon glanced at the Goblin, his heart lurching. The Jackal's face was covered in a dark cloth, but its spotted, muscular body was exposed in the torchlight, its arms hanging down and its long claws touching the floor. It seemed that using the Eye of Divinity was always perilous. "What kind of trouble?"

"We don't know," said Furlus, raising his drooping eyebrows. The bulky Dwarf was leaning on his battle axe, and his dark-grey beard--which was as broad as his chest when flowing free--was set into four braids in honor of the Olrog holiday called Rune Winter. His broad, weathered face didn't show much concern. "Probably nothing you can't handle, though it might give you a scare."

Jace patted Lannon on the back. As usual, the towering sorcerer was dressed in a flowing purple cloak and smoking a pipe. "Don't be too alarmed, Lannon. It's undoubtedly nothing dangerous, but it might be rather unpleasant. Just keep a calm head and be prepared." At nearly two-hundred years old, Jace looked like a man in his early thirties. His curly black hair held not a hint of grey and his face was smooth and youthful. Jace was a giant--standing nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and bony hands that seemed like shovels.

Again, Lannon glanced at the dead beast, wondering what sort of unpleasant sorcery still lingered inside the Jackal. In a way, the beast was still alive--charged with foul magic.

Lannon turned the Eye of Divinity's gaze on the creature. At first he merely saw a shell empty of life or spirit. But he realized the shell wasn't entirely empty, for some hideous darkness squirmed within it.

"I see something," Lannon said, "like...writhing shadows."

"We need you to peer into that evil sorcery," said Taris, "to learn everything you can about it. Do not be hesitant."

Lannon did as Taris requested, sending the Eye deep into the squirming mass of dark sorcery. He could almost glimpse what it was all about--some dreadful purpose nearly revealed--but the answer eluded him. It seemed to shift constantly beneath his gaze, always promising but never quite delivering. He chased after it in frustration as the moments passed by and the others watched in silence, until he began to grow weary and thought he must surely give up.

"Do not surrender!" said Taris, in a commanding tone. "No one else can do this task."

Somewhere amidst the haze of elusive shadows, Lannon began to feel something calling to him. He glanced at the dark cloth that covered the Jackal's face, the strange pull coming from beneath it. Lannon was certain the secret lay beneath that cloth. With a trembling hand, he reached for it.

Furlus seized his arm. "No, Squire. You won't like what you see."

"I have to," said Lannon.

With a shrug, Furlus released him and stepped back.

Lannon trembled as he gazed at the dark cloth. He knew he could never learn the truth until he removed the shroud. The people around him seemed to fade into the shadows, leaving him alone with his task. He was chilled at the prospect of what he might find when he lifted away the cloth.

But Lannon was honor bound to put aside his fear and learn why two young Knights were dead. Whoever, or whatever, had killed them had dispatched this beast in the same fashion. If Lannon surrendered to his fear, more Knights could turn up dead. His hand feeling numb, he touched the edge of the cloth. A cold shudder passed through him. For several moments he held that pose, fighting his internal battle against fear while he gazed at the dark outline of the face from which the evil sorcery was radiating so potently.

At last he shored up his will and Eye of Divinity responded, engulfing him like armor. Lannon seized the cloth and tore it away--to find himself gazing at a shockingly pale face with two crimson eyes, the beast's closed muzzle stained with blood. There was something deeply unsettling about that face, and Lannon was overwhelmed by the urge to cover it again.

In that instant, the slain Jackal's muzzle parted to reveal crooked fangs and its claws shot up and locked onto Lannon's throat. With a cry, Lannon tore away from its grasp and reeled back, as his vision went black for a moment.

When Lannon's vision returned, the dark cloth still covered the Jackal's face. Lannon had never actually removed it, but had fallen victim to an illusion that the Eye had failed to see through. He told the others what had happened.

"A foul trick of the sorcery," said Taris. "It seems the answer is buried too deeply for even the Eye of Divinity to discover."

Jace looked troubled as he smoked his pipe. "Power that turns away even the mighty Eye. Just what manner of assassin are we dealing with?"

"I suppose the only way we'll know," said Taris, "is to hunt him down. Meanwhile, let this fallen monster be laid to rest with a proper burial."

"We should summon the other Squires," said Furlus. "Any of them could be targets. The Divine Shield must be assembled immediately."

Taris fixed his gaze on Lannon. "Our spies have informed us that your old friend Timlin Woodmaster is now the leader of the Blood Legion. We believe he is determined to launch an attack on this fortress in the near future. This assassin--as powerful as he seems to be--may simply be an attempt to distract us."

A shaft of pain pierced Lannon's heart at the mention of Timlin, but his resolve did not crumble. "I'm still hoping he will surrender."

Taris sighed. "Young Squire, you still don't understand the ways of this world. The Deep Shadow will never surrender its hold on Timlin now--just as Vorden is forever lost to it. You should harden your heart in preparation, for Timlin is now our greatest enemy and marked for death by Dremlock."

"Marked for death?" said Lannon, though the statement needed no explanation. Lannon's stomach churned at the thought.

"What that means," said Shennen, stepping close to Lannon, "is that Timlin is on the assassination list of the Blue Knights. As a traitor to Dremlock and someone corrupted by Tharnin, his death would be a blessing upon this land." Shennen's eyes were cold, holding a glint of grim purpose in the dim, flickering torchlight.

"I can't give up on my friend," said Lannon.

"He's not our friend anymore, Lannon," said Jerret, his head bowed. "He hates us now, just like Vorden does. We have to accept that."

"Jerret speaks true," said Taris. "Timlin would kill you in an instant, Lannon, if he had the chance. He is no better than a savage Goblin now. Tenneth Bard is dead and Vorden is gone from our world. While Timlin is still here physically, he is just as lost as they are. Face up to that fact."

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

"I know," said Taris, giving Lannon's shoulder a squeeze. "You have a noble heart. I admire that quality. But there comes a time when you must begin to think and act like a Knight--and make the harsh choices. Knights are not coddled. A Knight must stand alone, even with his fellow Knights at his side. Do you know what the means, to stand alone? Your duties come before friendship. Timlin is our sworn enemy, and your duty is to view him as such."

Lannon felt cold inside. He felt the Knights were too demanding of Squires, shoving them into battle and leaving them to sort out their thoughts alone. Taris had given Lannon much guidance, but ultimately, Lannon felt alone most of the time, left to suffer in silence and work out his troubles on his own. He knew it was expected and demanded of him. It was the way of Dremlock to build total self-reliance while providing only what guidance was absolutely necessary. But Lannon wasn't fond of it nonetheless. Dremlock could quickly and easily turn its back on a traitor like Timlin and expect Lannon to do the same, while offering him no wisdom or comfort for making such a harsh decision. Duty was all that mattered.

"Timlin's heart is completely lost to darkness," said Furlus. The Grey Dwarf's bearded face showed a hint of sadness. "When I looked into that lad's eyes, before the gates of Dorok's Hand, I saw only pure evil."

"And that is why Timlin is doomed," said Shennen, in a tone of voice that chilled Lannon to the bone. "The Blue Knights will not accept failure in this matter. Yet we only mark for death those who have become the most vile creations of Tharnin, those who would never surrender anyway."

Lannon glanced at Jace for hope, and Jace winked at Lannon. "Who knows what the future has in store?"

Lannon nodded, cheered up a bit by Jace's optimism. Jace seemed able to affect Lannon's mood with ease--almost as if he were using some form of sorcery on the lad. Lannon didn't know what Jace was capable of, because the giant was somehow shielded completely from the Eye of Divinity. Lannon still didn't fully trust Jace, but the Knights--with the exception of Trenton Shadowbane, the cantankerous Investigator of Dremlock--seemed to trust him enough. Regardless, Lannon was once again grateful for Jace's presence.

"Don't give the boy false hope, Jace," said Shennen, glaring at the sorcerer. "It will only make this worse for him."

Jace blew a shaky smoke ring and frowned at it. It was such a terrible smoke ring that he batted it into ruin with a huge hand. "No false hope, just reality. The future is unknown to us."

"It troubles me," said Taris, "that a former Squire is marked for death, but Timlin was spawned by the Hand of Tharnin--a weapon so evil and unstable that even the Tharnin Lords have condemned its use. He is the last link to that bitter device. Yet Timlin is aware of our Sacred Laws. If he chose to come to us and surrender, we would be forced to spare his life and lock him in a dungeon. But he will never do that. He will resist to the bitter end."

Lannon knew they were right, but he still couldn't bring himself to accept it. Timlin was purely evil--a monster in armor infested with the Deep Shadow. Timlin would seek to bring death and suffering to the Divine Knights and the people of Silverland. Even his own Blood Legion feared and despised him, in spite of being forced to obey his commands.

"For now, my friends," said Taris, "we need to find this assassin and capture him alive, if possible, so we can learn why Timlin sent him and anything else he might know of the Blood Legion's plans."

"I have a request, Taris," said Shennen. He hesitated, looking uncertain. "I would like to spend some time alone with Lannon, as I have need of his skills. I want him to examine the bones of the Dragon. I know this may not be a good time, but my research is very important."

Taris stood in silence for a moment. At last, he nodded. "I will allow it, but take care of your business quickly. After that, I want Lannon and his friends under constant guard. And take Jace with you."

Shennen's expression soured. "Jace? But why?"

Taris gazed at the Blue Knight sternly. "Jace's vast knowledge may prove helpful to your research. Also, I'm not an expert concerning Dragon bones, but I'm guessing this could be a dangerous task. I want Jace to see to Lannon's safety."

Jace bowed. "I shall do my best."

"Are you saying I cannot protect the lad?" asked Shennen.

"Of course not," said Taris. "But two guards are better than one. In fact, have Thrake accompany you as well."

Shennen grimaced. "Why not just send half the Knights in Dorok's Hand, then, if you're so worried about Lannon's safety?"

Taris said nothing. He simply gazed at Shennen from under his hood, his green eyes shining in the torchlight.

Shennen lowered his gaze. "I meant no disrespect. It shall be done."

Taris turned away and didn't see Shennen's scowl.

Lannon wanted only to return to his chamber and rest. He certainly didn't want any part of that Dragon's remains. And Shennen seemed to be behaving a bit strangely, and his face looked very pale. Lannon wondered if the Blue Knight had spent too much time with those charred bones and had somehow been affected by whatever dark sorcery lingered within them.