Knights The Heart of Shadows

chapter 10: The Eye of Dreams

Tension was high in Blombalk Fortress that night. Lannon and his friends were placed under very heavy guard, with six Knights--including at least one from the Divine Shield--staying close to them at all times. Dremlock's warriors hunkered down in a circle of tents and slept with their armor on (those who actually allowed themselves a bit of sleep), and the Legion Soldiers gave that circle a wide berth as they walked back and forth across the grounds.

It was a cold, snowy night, and the Squires stayed inside their tent and focused on keeping warm. Everyone was able to relax except Jerret, who kept getting up to pace about in the small space and annoy the others.

"I don't like this situation at all," Jerret said, his hand on his broadsword hilt. "We're sure to be attacked in our sleep."

"Relax," said Lannon. "There is no reason the Blood Legion would attack us. We struck a deal with them, remember?"

"The Blood Legion has no honor," said Jerret. "We can't trust them to keep their word. We sit here like fools, surrounded by a sea of enemies."

"Enemies who would perish in white fire," said Prince Vannas, "if they dared attack us." The prince lay on his back on the floor, the pouch containing the White Flamestone resting atop his chest. "You worry too much, Jerret."

"And you have too much confidence in that stone," said Jerret. "Look what happened beneath Elder Oak, when you were nearly crushed by a Wolf."

"That was just bad luck," said Vannas. "It won't happen again."

"Anything can happen," said Jerret. "Haven't you figured that out yet? All it takes is for you to lose your grip on the Flamestone and that advantage is gone. Sorry, Prince Vannas, but I'm not counting on your shiny gem for protection. I'll rely on my wits and my sword instead, thank you."

"Good plan, Jerret," said Lothrin, from where he lay beneath his quilt. "For once, you're speaking words of wisdom."

Jerret drew his sword. "I'm going to step outside and scout around a bit. I'll stay close to the tent, though."

Galvia patted the floor next to her. "Sit down, Jerret. We're under heavy guard, remember? And you're making me tired just watching you pace."

Jerret hesitated, then sheathed his sword. He slumped down next to her. "But you agree with me, right? There is going to be bloodshed tonight."

"I hope not," said Galvia, sighing. "I don't have my strength back yet. It pains me to even walk around, let alone attempt combat."

"Don't worry," said Jerret. "You've got me to look after you."

Galvia smiled. "True enough."

Lannon sat apart from the others, wanting to be alone. He kept thinking of what the Eye had revealed about Timlin, and the last of his hope was draining away. Timlin truly was a monster--worse than Vorden, for Timlin wasn't wearing the Hand of Tharnin, a device that could be removed. Rather, Timlin's very soul had been made foul and there was simply nothing left of who he'd once been. Timlin would never surrender or change his ways. He would haunt Dremlock until the Divine Knights put an end to him.

"You look sad, my friend," said Lothrin. "What troubles you?"

Lannon hesitated, then revealed what was on his mind.

"I'm sorry, Lannon," said Aldreya. "I don't have the Eye of Divinity, but I knew the truth before you did. Unlike Vorden, Timlin willingly betrayed Dremlock. He is beyond hope."

"No one is beyond hope," said Lothrin. "There is always a chance for redemption."

"Not for Timlin Woodmaster," said Vannas. "His heart is rotten."

"Yes," said Lannon, "his heart is rotten. And there is no hope for him. I suppose he is better off dead. And now I realize there was no hope for Vorden, either. The Deep Shadow is too strong. Once it claims someone, they're lost forever. At least Thrake was put out of his misery."

"That doesn't sound like you, Lannon," said Jerret, a flash of pain in his eyes at the mention of Thrake's name. "You never give up on anyone. What made you so cynical all of a sudden?"

"I guess I've been a fool," said Lannon. "I should have listened to the Knights. They warned me about the Deep Shadow."

"Don't surrender your optimism, Lannon," said Lothrin. "It is actually your greatest weapon against the Deep Shadow."

"I doubt it," said Lannon. "My optimism hasn't done any good at all. The Eye of Divinity is my greatest weapon, and it can't save anyone from the Deep Shadow. I think it's time I faced up to reality." He knew he sounded bitter, but he couldn't help himself. He was sad and weary of his burdens.

Jace wandered in and sat down. He had a loaf of bread in one hand and an ale jug in the other. "Greetings, Squires. Taris asked me to check on you and see if you needed anything."

"When are we going to be attacked?" asked Jerret.

"Good question," said Jace, his mouth full of bread. He took a large swig of ale and then wiped his chin with his sleeve. "The greatest concern now for Dremlock and the Legion is tracking down and slaying this Specter. Attacking us in the dead of night would gain our foes nothing, and would cost them much."

"What is so dangerous about this Specter?" asked Vannas.

Jace raised his eyebrows and leaned toward Vannas, his huge shadow blocking out the lantern light. "Are you speaking in jest, oh prince? A Specter is one of the most powerful creatures in existence--equal to that Dragon that caused so much trouble at Dorok's Hand."

"But I slew the Dragon," said Vannas, with a yawn.

"With some favorable luck, yes," said Jace. "But a Specter is more elusive. You will not have an easy time locking onto that target."

"Lannon can hold the creature with the Eye of Divinity," said Vannas, "and I will blast it with white fire. End of story."

Jace sighed. "Well, I believe things could turn out differently. I believe the death toll could be considerable, if we're not careful. We're facing a creature that is as swift as the wind, as fleeting as a shadow--that can kill with its very gaze. If we can corner it, we have a chance. Otherwise..."

Jace went on talking for a while, telling about one of his adventures in which he'd encountered a creature he thought was a Tharnin Specter (turned out it wasn't). Lannon's mind wandered, and he lay down and pulled his quilt over him. He was still thinking of Timlin--of the evil he'd glimpsed. He wished he hadn't used the Eye on Timlin. He felt he would have been better off not knowing the truth. Lannon also found himself wondering if Jerret was right and their camp would soon be attacked. Maybe Blombalk Fortress was destined to be stained by blood yet again. And beyond all that lurked the Specter and its potential to cause death on a mass scale.

Lannon wanted only to sleep away his troubles, but in spite of his mental exhaustion, his heart still smoldered with anger toward the Deep Shadow that seemed to be the source of all his misery. In response to that anger, something stirred within him, and the barriers between reality and the dream world began to crumble away. Moments later, the darkness took Lannon's mind.

***

Lannon awoke in the middle of the night, when Jace was gone and the other Squires were asleep (except for Jerret, who was sitting up with his broadsword across his lap). But it only took a moment for Lannon to realize he wasn't awake in the normal sense. He seemed to be dreaming--floating above his body. He noted how peaceful his face looked in the soft lantern glow, giving no hint to the troubles that haunted his mind. He felt detached from everything around him. He could see things but could affect nothing.

This was the Eye of Dreams. Some complex mechanism had been activated within Lannon, allowing him to separate from his body and become a hidden observer. He had no idea how long it would last or where it would lead him. He wondered if he should simply try to return to his body and sleep. Yet he suspected no harm could come to him in this form. The Eye of Dreams was like a ghost, able to pass through solid objects and travel anywhere.

Excited at the prospect of unlimited freedom, Lannon floated through the tent wall and out into the snowy night. The wind blew swirling flakes right through him and the cold had no effect on him. He was warm and comfortable and beyond the reach of nature.

Six guards, including Shennen, stood by the tent talking to each other. Lannon approached them but they looked right through him. They had no clue he was there watching their every move. Lannon's excitement grew. He was completely invisible and could go anywhere he chose. But where did he want to go? He decided he should spy on the Blood Legion.

Lannon floated into the Soldier Barracks and found all but a few of the Legion Soldiers asleep. He entered the Council Barracks and saw that Timlin was asleep and under heavy guard. He could see the aura of the Deep Shadow around Timlin. The Eye of Dreams revealed it as a purple glow. But the aura was troubled and shifting, as if uncertain of its destiny. Lannon saw that Timlin was not hopeless after all, because there were powers greater even than the Deep Shadow. Timlin was on a collision course with a strange destiny of some sort. Lannon could not tell if that destiny would lead him to a good or bad end, because the future was murky.

Aside from the new revelation about Timlin, there was nothing interesting going on and Lannon quickly grew bored of spying. He floated back out onto the fortress grounds. He gazed up at the sky, through a barrage of large snowflakes. He wondered if he could travel to the clouds--to the moon even, if he so desired. He rose into the air, higher and higher into the swirling snow, but suddenly the feeling of motion stopped. He realized he was still floating just above the ground.

Traveling to the moon was apparently impossible, but Lannon thought he might be able to travel anywhere in the world. But the Eye of Dreams was not something Lannon could control for very long, and he suddenly found himself being pulled through time and space against his will.

***

The Eye of Dreams first took Lannon to Dremlock Kingdom, where a meeting of the remaining High Council members was taking place in Dremlock Hall. Their faces were tense as they sat at a long table. An Orange Squire was busy keeping them supplied with water, ale, and snacks. The fireplace was roaring and several lanterns lit the hall, revealing the huge paintings of famous Knights. The Crest of Dremlock was displayed on two of the walls--the three strange crystals that represented Dremlock's god, one in purple and white (the Riding Crest) and one in black and silver (the Kingdom Crest).

Lannon could not feel the heat from the fireplace or smell the incense that burned on the tables. All he could do was watch what was taking place. He wondered if this was how ghosts existed--completely detached from everything yet still able to be an observer. He was slightly apprehensive at first, wondering if the Knights would somehow catch a glimpse of him and demand to know why he was spying on them. But he soon realized they had no clue he was present.

Cordus Landsaver looked exhausted, his eyes bloodshot as he squinted at a map in front of him. Lannon hovered beside the Lord Knight and gazed down at the map. It showed the continent of Gallamerth in detail, including all of its kingdoms, with many places marked with red ink. Lannon marveled that even the great Cordus Landsaver had no idea that Lannon was positioned right next to him. The spying potential of the Eye of Dreams was astounding. Lannon suffered no guilt over spying on the Lord Knight, because he felt he'd been brought here for a good reason and that something important was about to be revealed.

"So Brothlor Kingdom has surrendered to Bellis," said Cordus, rubbing his forehead. "The last of the Six Guardian Kingdoms is now an extension of Bellis." The Lord Knight wore his magnificent, shining breastplate that displayed the original Crest of Dremlock--the three great towers. His unkempt black hair and beard held grey streaks that seemed new to Lannon. He was still an imposing figure, with his fierce blue eyes and muscular body--but he seemed diminished somehow, terribly burdened by stress. Lannon didn't like what he saw at all, and he wished he were at Dremlock in the flesh.

"So what is left?" asked Krissana Windsword. "The Six Guardian Kingdoms have fallen. That leaves only the barbarian kingdoms of the coasts, along with Borenthia, East Hammer Haven, and Dremlock. When will Bellis ride to our gates?"

"I would guess quite soon," said Barlow Whitesword. He was a short and stocky man, balding and clean shaven. He was the Lord of the Brown Knights and always wore his armor and shield when out and about. He was simple and not extremely intelligent in matters beyond combat and strategy, but he knew the Sacred Laws of Dremlock to the letter and he was stubborn in adhering to them.

"It is not likely that Bellis will ride against Borenthia," said Vesselin Hopebringer, the ancient Lord of the White Knights. He smoothed out his long white beard with a wrinkled, trembling hand. "The Birlotes are still too strong to be conquered easily. It would take decades of warfare. And the Birlotes keep to themselves, so Bellis can simply ignore them for now. East Hammer Haven is heavily defended as well, and the Grey Dwarves also keep to themselves. I would say Dremlock is certain to be the next target. The time has come to act."

Lannon wondered why the Eye of Dreams was showing him this meeting. He'd already known that Bellis was a concern. But the mood in the hall was dark, and Lannon suspected the situation had become dire. But what could he do about it? He was far away from Dremlock, caught up in his own grim situation. It seemed the Eye had dragged him here just to torment his mind all the more.

"We must call back our forces from Dorok's Hand," said Barlow. "We have too many valuable Knights there that could help defend Dremlock."

"Abandon Dorok's Hand?" said Cordus, scowling. "It took considerable effort to secure that fortress--the death of many Knights. Now we just retreat and leave it for the Blood Legion?"

"We struck a deep blow to the Legion," said Barlow, with a shrug. "And they lost many warriors at Blombalk Fortress. They are weak."

"True," said Cordus, "but instead of finishing them off, it would seem we're now forced to abandon our war against them when we are so close to victory." He sighed in frustration. "The timing of this issue with Bellis is terrible."

"The attack on Dorok's Hand was a noble effort," said Vesselin, "but the situation has changed. The threat of Bellis is too great for us to focus on anything else. Tenneth Bard is dead and the Blood Legion is weak. The Hand of Tharnin is no longer a threat. King Verlamer is now our greatest enemy and surely is a servant of the Deep Shadow."

"I still don't understand," said Krissana, "how the King of Bellis could have fallen under the influence of the Deep Shadow. Bellis is far away from the troubles of Silverland. Is there any news on how this could have happened?"

"No, it remains a great mystery," said Cordus, gazing at the map. "Somehow, a powerful servant of Tharnin was able to breach that mighty kingdom and get close to King Verlamer--close enough to whisper in his ear and change his destiny. Bellis is so strongly defended against the Deep Shadow that it seems impossible, yet clearly it has happened. Unless...he is simply insane. In either case, he clearly isn't going to stop the expansion until all of Gallamerth is under his control."

"Brothlor Kingdom lies just beyond Silverland," said Barlow. "That means Bellis already has a large army right on our doorstep. Rather than assemble one massive force against us, they may opt to send smaller armies to weaken us. They may attack Dorok's Hand and try to lay claim to the White Flamestone. Regardless, we could be attacked very soon. Clearly, the time has come for us to take action."

"I agree," said Krissana. "Perhaps we should call back all of our forces and fortify the kingdom, then wait for Bellis to come to us."

"Yet that would be devastating to Silverland," said Cordus. "Especially with these new Goblins attacking towns. Still, I believe we must withdraw at least eighty percent of our Knights and bring them here. We will need the Eye of Divinity and, most importantly, the White Flamestone."

"And then we sit and wait," said Barlow, with a wry smile, "as the massive armies of Bellis close in on us." He shook his head slowly, his eyes looking haunted. "How can Dremlock withstand such forces?"

"We have withstood Bellis before," said Cordus. "When King Ordamer sent his Knights against us, we endured. However, Bellis was smaller in those days and it was also fighting a war with the Grey Dwarves. Dremlock has never faced anything like the power that Bellis commands these days."

"Then I doubt we'll survive," said Barlow. "The Birlotes and Olrogs have rejected our pleas for an alliance, and Borenthia has yet to send the two-hundred archers we were promised. The Dwarves offer no help at all. Even with the White Flamestone, it seems we will be crushed. Bellis will bring thousands of Knights and massive siege engines against us. Dremlock will be reduced to rubble."

"The archers will come," said Cordus. "The Birlotes have always honored their promises."

"But can two-hundred archers make much difference?" said Barlow.

Cordus didn't answer.

"When is that Knight of Bellis due to arrive?" asked Krissana. "I sense his arrogance in not showing up for the meeting on time."

"I was informed of his delay," said Cordus. "He should be arriving any moment. Then we will know for certain where we stand."

"Unless he lies to us," said Barlow.

Cordus frowned and sipped some ale.

The moments drifted past, while Lannon grew impatient. The Eye of Dreams had dragged him to Dremlock Hall against his will, and he wondered how long it was going to keep him there. He'd seen enough to know the events were probably real and not just an exceptionally vivid dream, and he needed to report what he'd witnessed to Taris. He wanted to do so immediately, but the Eye kept him bound to the room. He found himself forced to float there and watch.

At last an Orange Squire entered the hall and announced that the Knight of Bellis, Folam Elsonandale, had arrived. Moments later, a muscular man wearing extravagant silver and gold armor strode into the hall. He had long blond hair and a clean-shaven, handsome face. A sheathed broadsword hung from his belt, and a round shield was strapped to his arm that was painted with the Crest of Bellis in white and green (a dome with towers protruding from it like spikes on a morning star). He also had a steel crossbow strapped to his back. Standing beside him was a smaller man, in a black and purple robe, with a bald head and a neatly trimmed red beard. The bald man was holding a book with a silver cover.

Folam Elsonandale bowed to the Lord Knight. "Greetings! As you already know, I have come from Bellis with my scribe, whose name is Fenchas. If I may, I would like to sit down so we can talk."

Cordus nodded. "You may sit."

The muscular Knight and his scribe seated themselves at the table. The scribe produced a feather pen and ink and wrote something in the book. An Orange Squire brought the two some ale, bread, and cheese. Folam took a hearty swig of ale, then smiled. "Dremlock is truly a wonderful kingdom. I've always longed to see it, and at last I'm getting my chance. I only wish it was during summer's warmth, when I'm sure the kingdom is quite beautiful."

"Undoubtedly," said Cordus, "there are many things we could discuss in the interests of friendly conversation, such as this foul spring weather, but I'm not in a friendly mood and I prefer we get right to the point."

Folam bit into the crusty bread and then washed it down with some ale. He grunted with approval. "Excellent bread, but I prefer mine buttered. Orange Squire--fetch me some butter! Anyway, I've come only to ask for Dremlock's cooperation. We would like you to sign a treaty with Bellis--a treaty of lasting peace that will ensure Dremlock stays out of the affairs of my kingdom. So there you have it."

"The affairs of your kingdom," mused Cordus. "Affairs that no doubt involve conquering all of Gallamerth. Bellis has come dangerously close to Silverland in claiming the last of the Guardian Kingdoms. Isn't that enough for your king, or must he try to lay claim to this battered region as well?"

"I think we already know the answer," said Barlow. "Bellis will not stop until it rules Gallamerth from sea to sea."

Folam smiled broadly. "Yes, our blessed King Verlamer Kessing is seeking to bring unity to our land and end all wars. This bold and unprecedented move has already brought peace to most of the Southern Reaches."

"Peace by enslavement," said Cordus.

"No," said Folam, "by cooperation. All but one of the Guardian Kingdoms willingly signed the treaty with Bellis. The coastal barbarian kingdoms refuse to for now, but what can be expected of those savages?"

"The Birlotes will never sign the treaty," said Krissana Windsword. "Your king must already know that. Nor will the Olrogs."

Folam shrugged. "We shall see. But right now the concern is Dremlock, and that's why I'm here. I will require the signatures of all the High Council members, along with the swearing of an oath to Bellis."

"Even if we were to agree to this," said Cordus, "three of our High Council members are far away from here, including both of our Tower Masters. It would require many days of travel for them to return. Are you willing to wait?"

Lannon could barely believe what he was hearing. Was the Lord Knight actually considering signing the treaty? Surely it would mean Dremlock would lose its independence and its ability to effectively battle the forces of Tharnin. Lannon suspected it was nothing more than an agreement of surrender.

"In light of that," said Folam, "I would ask that the four of you sign and take the oath for now, and the remaining three can do so later--or not. Four out of seven is the majority I need anyway. What say you?"

Cordus sneered. "You want us to surrender without a fight."

"Not surrender," said Folam, "just to cooperate. This can be done peacefully and without bloodshed." His facial expression turned sullen. "But either way, it will be done. Choose wisely, Knights of Dremlock."

"Call it what you will," said Cordus. "Your king should have known we would never sign. So why did you bother coming here at all?"

"You wasted your time, young Knight," said Vesselin Hopebringer. "Dremlock does not submit to tyranny."

Folam rose from his chair. "Perhaps this will convince you." He unslung his steel crossbow. "This is a fine bow. Most of our Knights have one. It is quite powerful and very easy to load and fire."

"You came all this way," said Cordus, "to show me a crossbow?"

Folam withdrew an arrow from his quiver and held it up. The arrow had a cone-shaped, metal tip that didn't look like it was very sharp. "The arrow head explodes on contact with armor--with enough force that it can tear a man to pieces or blast apart stone. It is more than enough to counter any of Dremlock's sorcery and tricks. I can arrange a demonstration if you would like, Lord Knight. Just give the word." He sighed. "Why don't you at least read the treaty before you decide?"

"It doesn't matter," said Cordus. "We will not sign!"

"Never!" said Barlow, pounding the table with his fist.

"Dremlock does not yield," said Krissana.

"I would rather die than sign your treaty," said Vesselin.

Folam's face darkened. "As you wish." He motioned to his scribe. "Let it be known that the High Council refused to even read the treaty." He glowered at Cordus. "You will go down in history as the Lord Knight who held power when Dremlock fell to Bellis--the Lord Knight whose stubbornness destroyed his kingdom."

Cordus guzzled some ale, then slammed the mug down so hard it split in two. "No--Dremlock will prevail, as it always has!"

The others spoke in agreement.

Cordus rose, his bloodshot eyes full of rage. "You can never defeat us, because we have honor on our side--and the power of a god! Tell that to your puppet king who bows before Tharnin!"

Folam's eyes widened. "Puppet king? You will come to regret those words." He waved to them. "Goodbye then, misguided fools of Dremlock. I pity you, for you have no idea the wrath you have unleashed."

Cordus pointed towards the door. "Be gone with you, Knight of Bellis, or you will feel my wrath!"

Suddenly, Lannon was yanked away from the scene--back through time and space to some unknown destination. He found himself in a throne room, in some huge hall with marble pillars and a dome-shaped ceiling. He knew it was the Kingdom of Bellis. Seated on a throne before Lannon was a huge, bearded king dressed in a white and crimson robe. His face was pale--almost inhumanly so, with dark and sunken eyes. Perched on an arm of the throne was a small, golden dragon with large claws and fangs and malicious eyes--a Goblin like the one whose bones had formed Lannon's sword. Next to the king was a silver chalice that had tipped over and spilled out some dark fluid that looked like blood. For some reason, Lannon was filled with dread as he looked upon this scene, for he knew this was symbolic of the ruin of Dremlock Kingdom.

And then Lannon was pulled away again, and this time he seemed to be falling into some deep void. He cried out in despair, just before he awoke in his tent covered in sweat. Lannon sat up, his chest heaving. The spell of the Eye of Dreams was broken, and Lannon wondered if it would ever return again. After what he'd witnessed, he almost hoped it never did.