Knights The Heart of Shadows

chapter 14: A Duel of Blades

The company proceeded on foot into Dorok's Hand, with Taris in the lead. The Tower Master, whose head wound was still bandaged, walked slowly and seemed to be partially dragging his left foot. Following Taris was the rest of the Divine Shield. The fortress had a strange, smoky scent to it--perhaps left over from the toxic vapor the Blood Legion had used to drive out Dremlock's warriors. Grim-faced Knights lined the entrance hall on either side, weapons drawn. Furlus Goblincrusher approached them and nodded to Taris.

Lannon was glad to see Furlus again, for the Dwarf always inspired confidence with his unyielding attitude.

"Welcome back," Furlus said gruffly, though concern was in his gaze as he studied Taris in the torchlight. The Grey Dwarf looked weary, and his cheek bore wounds that resembled claw marks--as if he'd recently tangled with a Jackal. His heavy plate armor displayed a gash in the chest area. His hair and beard looked unkempt, and his face was streaked with dirt.

"I can't say it is good to be back," said Taris, with a wry smile. "I assume you received our latest message?"

"I did," said Furlus. "How are you feeling, old friend? I hope that Specter knocked some sense into you."

Taris grinned. "Not likely."

"Why don't you rest up a bit," said Furlus, "and have some food. Then we can discuss the situation with the hostages."

Taris seemed lost in thought for a moment, his brow furrowed--as if he were struggling to remember something. At last he said, "I prefer to get on with important business. The hostages shouldn't be made to wait."

"Nonsense!" said Furlus. "The situation is under control. The hostages are being fed and cared for. No need to rush into anything."

"We should rest and eat," said Shennen, to Taris. "We're all weary from riding and in need of fresh clothes and good food."

"Agreed," said Trenton. "We can make plans after dinner. It would be unwise to take action without careful planning."

Taris looked uncertain. For a moment he seemed confused. He adjusted the bandages on his head and smoothed out his cloak, while the others waited for his reply. Then he nodded.

***

The Knights and Squires were allowed to wash and change clothes, before having dinner in the Dining Hall. The wide variety of delicious foods was a welcome change from their travel rations. After everyone had eaten their fill, the Divine Shield gathered at one of the tables to discuss the situation.

"The Blood Legion's demands are simple," said Furlus. "Vorden wishes to meet Lannon in combat. If Lannon wins, the Legion Soldiers surrender and the hostages go free. If Lannon loses, the Hand of Tharnin and the Soldiers are allowed to leave Dorok's Hand, and the hostages are released."

The news was not unexpected to Lannon. He knew Vorden would stop at nothing to destroy him. If Vorden could kill Lannon and escape from the fortress with the Hand of Tharnin, it would be a great victory for the Blood Legion. But as much as Lannon feared the Hand of Tharnin, he was willing to risk his life to try to take Vorden prisoner.

"So another duel?" said Trenton, with a grimace. "Dremlock's duels have not been productive lately."

"And whose fault is that?" said Taris, in a shaky voice. "I chose Flund Greenhelm, not Daledus."

Daledus' face reddened in humiliation. He took a quick swig of ale.

Trenton shrugged. "Flund was injured. Who should I have chosen, then?"

"Someone experienced," said Shennen, glaring at the Investigator.

"Let us focus on the current issue," said Furlus, "and not worry about past failures. Is anyone opposed to Lannon engaging in this fight?"

"I am opposed," said Prince Vannas. "I suggest we storm the chamber the Legion is occupying and kill all of them. Enough with the duels! Dremlock has trained me extensively to use this Flamestone, so what are we waiting for? I will turn Vorden and his precious Hand of Tharnin into ash."

"Agreed!" growled Daledus. "Divine Knights do not bargain with cowards who take hostages. We should end this with bloodshed!"

"I strongly disagree," said Jace, who'd cleaned two platters of food and was still nibbling on some cheese. "On the contrary, this is the perfect time for a duel. Lannon can defeat Vorden, and Dremlock can claim the Hand of Tharnin and either destroy it or lock it away somewhere. Otherwise, we risk many deaths and the possibility of Vorden escaping."

"But if Vorden wins the duel," said Taris, "then we will be forced to let him walk out of Dorok's Hand. We have lost two duels in a row." He rubbed his forehead, again looking confused. "I believe it has been two in a row, anyway. Dare we risk losing a third?"

"How many Knights are being held hostage?" asked Trenton.

"We currently believe there are sixteen Knights still alive down there," said Furlus, "and three Orange Squires. All of them are tied up and guarded."

"Nineteen people," said Shennen, shaking his head. "If we storm that chamber, they might all be killed. I am very much in favor of Lannon fighting the duel--if, that is, Lannon agrees to it."

"I agree to it," said Lannon. But he wasn't sure he could win. He wondered if this duel would be the death of him. But as a Squire of Dremlock, it wasn't his place to live in constant fear of death, and so he blocked the thought from his mind. His focus needed to be on winning the duel and freeing the hostages.

"I believe this is too important," said Taris, "to risk on another duel. We've lost the Black Flamestone, and Bellis has made threats against Dremlock. If we lose the Hand of Tharnin as well, our fate may be sealed. My opinion is that we should launch a quick strike on Vorden and his Soldiers and finish them off."

Furlus nodded. "Sounds like a good plan."

"I agree," said Trenton. "They will be expecting us to accept the duel, but we will surprise them with our assault."

Shennen slammed his fist down on the table. "Once again my wisdom is ignored! Is it because I'm not on the High Council? Well, I am the Lord of the Blue Knights and I should be a High Council member. Regardless, I grow weary of being ignored. I was opposed to Thrake fighting in the first duel, and no one listened. Thrake deliberately lost the battle. I asked to be allowed to fight in the second duel, and my request was denied--even though I know I could have prevailed. Now I firmly believe Lannon should fight this duel, and again I am ignored."

"I question your judgment, Shennen," said Taris. "The Dragon bones changed you. You no longer look like a Birlote, with that pale skin. I will admit that I don't fully trust you. I...I had something done with the bones..." He shook his head and glanced at Furlus, a gap in his memory revealed.

"You ordered them buried," said Furlus. "And the order was carried out. The Dragon bones are lost forever beneath earth and stone. Their location will be kept a secret forever, by sworn oath."

Shennen's lips tightened, his pale face turning crimson for a moment. "Those bones held many secrets, but yes, they were a greater danger than I had assumed. And sadly, my old friend Thrake Wolfaxe was a victim of my foolish miscalculation. I blame myself for Thrake's ruin, and because of that, I will never have peace of mind in this lifetime again. Yes, the bones are better off buried. But I assure you, Taris, that I am not under their influence. I know Lannon can defeat Vorden--at least in a duel of blades. He has grown stronger in his use of the Eye and become a much better swordsman. Just this once, I ask that you put your trust in me."

Taris gazed at Shennen in silence for a moment. Then he turned to Lannon. "Are you sure a duel is for the better?"

Lannon hesitated. What if he lost? It not only would cost him his life, but it might bring about the doom of Dremlock. And Lannon was not convinced his use of the Eye had improved. In fact, he seemed to tire more quickly when he tried to seize and move objects or enemies with it. If anything, that aspect seemed to have weakened with prolonged use--perhaps from being used too much and draining his energy. However, he was learning to channel the Eye through his sword and he was more confident in his ability to fight as a Blue Squire.

"I await your answer, Lannon," said Taris, his eyes narrowed.

"I'm not sure I can beat him in a duel of sorcery," Lannon admitted. "I've been worn out lately or something. But I think I can win in a duel of blades. My sword skills have definitely improved." Shennen's faith in him gave him confidence.

"The Eye is changing," said Taris. "It is shifting its energy to adapt to your needs. That is one of the great mysteries of your ability--that it changes over time as you change. You are improving overall, though, and learning to fight like a Blue Knight, which will make you vastly more potent in combat."

"So are we voting on this?" asked Trenton. "We have three High Council members present."

Taris shrugged. "If we must. I accept Lannon's opinion on the matter--his belief that he can prevail. In the interests of avoiding bloodshed and the deaths of the hostages, I vote for Lannon participating in the duel."

Furlus was thoughtful for a few moments. Then he said, "I second Taris' vote, and let the record show that I put faith in Shennen's opinion as well."

Shennen bowed, his face showing gratitude. "Thank you, Master Furlus. It is good to know at least one High Council member values my opinion."

Trenton sighed. "Well, I'm not going to be the lone fool to vote against the Tower Masters. So count me in favor as well."

"Then it has been decided," said Taris. "We will offer Vorden a duel of blades--or there will be no duel. We’ll send a messenger at once."

"If we lose," said Daledus, "the Hand of Tharnin will pass from this fortress and join with the Black Flamestone against us. Are the lives of the hostages so important that we risk the fate of Dremlock to save them?"

"Yes," said Taris. He pondered it for a moment, then said: "It is what the Divine Essence would expect of us. Every Knight and Squire is extremely valuable to us. Dremlock is not three great towers and a fortified wall. Dremlock consists of a god and a group of Knights and Squires. Dremlock exists wherever we exist. Defending the lives of those hostages is the same as defending the kingdom itself."

***

Vorden accepted the duel of blades, and the Divine Shield and twenty Knights proceeded below to the chamber that held the portal to Tharnin. Lannon led the way down into the torch-lit tunnels, to where two Blood Legion guards stood just outside the chamber. The guards motioned them inside.

The room held mounds of earth and stone--dug from the portal. Legion soldiers stood near the hostages, their weapons drawn, though the promise of an honorable duel had allowed them to relax some.

Vorden and two bearded, heavily armored giants (including the Dark Knight known as Almdrax, who'd been imprisoned in Tharnin along with Vorden) stood waiting for Lannon. Vorden seemed even larger and more muscular than when Lannon had last seen him. He still wore his black and gold armor (though the crack that the Dragon had inflicted upon it had been mended), minus the helm. His black hair had grown long and had an unkempt look to it. The blue stones in the Hand of Tharnin glowed brightly, and the chamber was hot. Vorden waved to Lannon with the large gauntlet and smiled.

Without hesitation, Lannon threw off his fur cloak--to reveal the silk Birlote cloak beneath. He approached his old friend, until he stood just a few feet away from him. Vorden looked Lannon up and down and nodded.

"Fancy cloak," Vorden said. "You've got a confident look about you these days, Lannon. I hope your skills have improved since we last met."

"They have," said Lannon. He sighed. "Why have you come back? You should have stayed in the realm of the Deep Shadow where you belong."

"Unfinished business," said Vorden. "I've returned to kill you."

"And take a few hostages, too," said Lannon, "which is kind of cowardly for someone who thinks he's such a great warrior."

Vorden laughed. "You, of all people, question my courage? I'm not interested in these hostages at all. That was just to get your attention. Now that Dremlock has agreed to an honorable duel, I no longer need them."

"Then let them go," said Lannon, who noticed that two of the Knights appeared to be seriously wounded.

"The hostages are released," said Vorden, with a dismissive wave. "But the duel will proceed." The Legion Soldiers sheathed their weapons and stepped away from the hostages. All that mattered now was the duel.

While the Knights tended to the former hostages, Lannon and Vorden stared each other down. Vorden seemed relaxed and amused, without a hint of doubt in his eyes. Lannon knew one thing for sure--Vorden was certain he would win.

"I've grown stronger since we last fought," said Vorden, "though training and battle. My name inspires terror on the other side."

"I only wish you could face me," Prince Vannas called out. "Though I know you wouldn't dare."

Vorden glanced at him. "Don't be so sure you would win, oh arrogant Birlote. That shiny stone is easy to get free of your hand." Vorden wiggled his iron fingers. "Unlike this gauntlet, which is bound to me forever."

"Yes, you're forever a puppet!" Jerret snarled. "I had you beat in our duel, and you know it. Just be glad it's not me you face."

Vorden yawned. "Nevertheless, you lost. And my combat skills have advanced far beyond anything you can imagine, Jerret, as Lannon will soon learn. I am now the greatest swordsman on Gallamerth."

"Quite a boast," said Shennen. "I'm sure you're very formidable in armed combat. But can you defeat a Dark Watchman?"

Vorden sneered. "I don't see any Dark Watchmen. They're long dead. All I see is boring Lannon Sunshield and his toy Dragon sword."

"You were a fool to return!" growled Furlus.

Vorden ignored the Grey Dwarf and fixed his gaze on Aldreya. "What about you? Nothing to say, Aldreya Snootyhawk?"

Aldreya's face darkened. "If Vorden were here, I would gladly speak to him. But he is dead, and I don't talk to mindless slaves."

Vorden rolled his eyes. "Whatever you say, Snootyhawk. I'm quite alive and aware of everything. But keep pretending otherwise if you wish."

"Words are meaningless," said Taris. "Let the duel proceed."

"Not just yet," said Vorden. "I want something clarified. This is supposed to be a duel of blades, correct? So that means blades only--no Hand of Tharnin and no Eye of Divinity."

"I'm not fighting without the Eye," said Lannon, though he knew it sounded cowardly. He doubted he could beat Vorden on skill alone. Vorden was immensely talented--and his skills had increased, if his boasts were true.

"Fine by me," said Vorden. "You use the Eye, and I use the Hand. But you would have a better chance leaving sorcery out of it."

"We fight with blades," said Lannon, "and sorcery. Or we don't fight at all--and you can deal with Prince Vannas and his Flamestone."

Vorden glanced at the prince, then nodded. "I agree. To the death, then."

"I will accept your submission," said Lannon.

Vorden shook his head. "I'll never submit to you, Lannon, and I won't accept your submission. I fully intend to kill you."

"Do what you must," said Lannon, drawing his Dragon sword.

Vorden drew his bizarre spider sword that looked like it was adorned with webs--that ancient blade that might have once served the Dark Watchmen. It was a powerful sword, resting in the hands of a powerful swordsman who wielded a gauntlet that gave him the power of a god. For moment, Lannon wondered if he'd lost his mind in accepting this duel. But Shennen had faith in Lannon, and Lannon had developed immense respect for the Lord of the Blue Knights. Shennen had saved Lannon from Thrake's wrath, when no one else--not even Taris--could foresee what was going to happen. And Lannon knew he was the only one who cared enough (or perhaps was foolish enough) to try to save Vorden's life.

Vorden focused his energy into his sword, and the blade grew red hot. "This will cut through your armor like its made of butter, old friend."

"I should hope so," said Lannon. "I only wear leather."

Vorden chuckled. "You're getting a smart mouth--the best quality I've seen out of you so far. Very amusing."

Lannon channeled the Eye of Divinity into his sword, and the Dragon blade quivered with life, welcoming his energy. "This is the end of the Hand of Tharnin. Save yourself the trouble and submit!"

Vorden responded by slashing at Lannon's neck. The move was so swift that Lannon never saw it. However, somehow his blade was there to deflect the blow that would have beheaded him.

Vorden stepped back, his eyebrows raised. Then he drove in again with more incredibly swift strokes, but this time the Eye adapted and slowed Lannon's view of the moves, though he was still limited in how fast he could respond. Seeing things in slow motion made him realize just how close some of Vorden's strokes were to connecting.

His flurry of attacks blocked, Vorden again stepped back, his chest heaving. "Incredible! I can't believe you're still alive!"

"We don't have to do this," said Lannon. "Surrender, and we can get that gauntlet off of you. You could return to life as a Squire. You were the best of all of us, Vorden. You still have a bright future at Dremlock."

"You're lost in a sad dream world," said Vorden. "This is a fight to the death, and my old life means nothing to me."

Vorden drove in again and they crossed blades. Vorden shoved at Lannon, but Lannon resisted and held his ground. Hand and Eye pushed against each other, and neither gave way. The air seemed to warp around them. The heat from Vorden's blade made sweat pour off Lannon, as he couldn't spare much energy on shielding himself. It was so hot that the onlookers had to move back a bit.

Vorden's yellow eyes gleamed with focus, the Will of the Deep Shadow demanding Lannon give way. Vorden was charged with the power of the demon that lurked within his gauntlet, and his face showed an inhuman malice. He was entirely bent on Lannon's destruction.

As Lannon gazed into those demonic eyes, he had to struggle to keep from faltering. The evil and madness radiating from Vorden sickened Lannon to the core and threatened to drain his will. But Lannon's training--and the power of the Eye--helped him resist.

"It is you who should submit," said Vorden. "You have no future at Dremlock. The Kingdom of Bellis will see to that. Thousands of Knights, bearing massive siege engines, will swarm over Dremlock like a wave washing away sand. Your only hope for survival, Lannon, is to swear allegiance to the Deep Shadow--as the Dark Watchmen once did. Take your oath now and I will spare your life."

"I would rather die," said Lannon, remembering the haunted face of Thrake Wolfaxe's ghost. "The Deep Shadow offers no peace."

"Fool!" Vorden bellowed. "I am at peace. Look into my eyes to see the truth. I don't have a care in the world, Lannon. My mind is free of burdens, and I live only to serve myself. I'm not a puppet of Tharnin--I just use the Deep Shadow to grant me power. That's why the Tharnin Lords fear me."

"They fear you because of that gauntlet," said Lannon. "It makes you crazy, Vorden. Yet you can't even see that truth."

Vorden didn't reply. Instead, he tried to communicate his feelings directly to Lannon--allowing the Eye to glimpse the wonders that Vorden held in such high regard. Lannon saw a bleak, frozen domain where power was all that mattered and kindness, charity, and morality were concepts given little weight. But Lannon felt only disgust for Vorden's ideal world, and Vorden simply couldn't understand why Lannon wasn't enthralled with the concept of Tharnin.

"If you actually came back to recruit me," said Lannon, "you were destined to fail. You should realize by now that I'm not Timlin."

Vorden's face turned crimson with rage. "Very well, then witness the fires of purification!" Vorden sent a furious surge of energy into his blade, and it burned even hotter--looking like a tongue of flame. Lannon feared his Dragon sword would be burned through, but the weapon held--perhaps sustained in part by the Eye. Lannon diverted more energy to shielding himself, as a blazing red fireball expanded between them. The fireball suddenly exploded and sent lesser fireballs flying around the chamber, causing Knights and Soldiers to dive for cover. Lannon was blown back several feet, all of his focus on shielding himself from the intense heat and energy, but he stayed standing.

With a howl, Vorden leapt through the air at Lannon. The two warriors collided in a flurry of sword strokes--with Lannon again mostly defending Vorden's attacks. Vorden was expending massive amounts of energy trying to break through Lannon's defenses, and Lannon was growing weary of having to block blows that would have shredded steel. Battling Vorden seemed to bring out the best in Lannon, but Lannon wasn't sure how much longer he could sustain it. The Hand of Tharnin seemed to harbor endless power, but Lannon was growing exhausted. He knew he had to go on the attack and make something happen.

Finally Vorden paused, panting. He thrust his arms out and grinned. "This is a great battle, old friend, to make me have to catch my breath. But--"

Lannon threw everything into a single attack--summoning all the remaining power of the Eye and forcing it into his blade. The Dragon sword responded by lashing out in a move so swift it caught Vorden by surprise. The bone blade cut through Vorden's arm just below the shoulder--the arm that was bound by the Hand of Tharnin. The heavy gauntlet, which was still wrapped around the hilt of the spider sword, clattered to the floor, the severed arm protruding from it.

Vorden gazed down at the fallen gauntlet, dumbfounded. "You...you cut off my arm. You wretched coward!"

Vorden reached toward the gauntlet with his remaining arm, but Lannon leapt forward and kicked him in the chest. Vorden fell on his back, blood pooling around his shoulder. "You worthless sneak!" he cried, his eyes wide.

Lannon stood over Vorden, his sword poised for a killing blow. "This duel is over, Vorden. Do you submit?"

"I expected better of you!" Vorden snarled. "Is that how you win a duel? By taking a limb?"

Lannon shrugged. "It did the job."

"A cowardly attack!" Almdrax cried. The huge Dark Knight raised his axe. "The duel is unfair!"

"The move was legal," Taris said. "Honor is preserved."

"Legal or not," said Almdrax, "only a coward severs limbs to win a duel."

The Legion Soldiers muttered in agreement.

Lannon nodded. "I accept the label of a coward, if it means saving a life." He positioned the sword above Vorden's heart. "I ask again--do you submit?"

"Kill me!" Vorden growled.

Lannon hesitated, then nodded. As much as he hated the thought of killing his former friend, he couldn't afford to lose the duel and allow the Hand of Tharnin to remain with the Blood Legion. If Vorden refused to yield, death was the only alternative. Lannon raised the sword, shutting out his disgust over what he was forced to do. It simply had to be done.

But Vorden saw the focus in Lannon's eyes and knew Lannon meant business. "Wait!" he cried, raising his hand. "Spare me, old friend. I don't want to die here like this. Yes, I am the loser of the duel. I yield!"

With a sigh of relief, Lannon lowered his blade.

Cries of rage and despair arose from the Blood Legion. They cursed Vorden for being a coward, but they were forced to throw down their weapons and surrender. Almdrax was the last to give up, but finally he dropped his axe and bowed his head, his expression concealed--as always--beneath his horned helm.

Vorden closed his eyes, either unconscious or unwilling to communicate. A healer set to work on his arm.

Lannon knew that simply removing the Hand of Tharnin from Vorden did not mean his former friend would return to normal. Vorden had a rough road ahead of him. However, one grave threat to Dremlock had been dealt with, and for a moment at least, the Knights and Squires could savor victory.

Jace started toward the fallen gauntlet, but Lannon motioned him back. "I think I should do this myself." Lannon had once watched in horror as the Hand of Tharnin had attached itself to Vorden, and he had no intention of standing by and watching someone else fall victim to the device.

"Yes, let Lannon unlock it," said Taris.

"Why unlock it at all?" said Trenton. "It's not worth the risk."

"I have to save Vorden's arm," said Lannon, shrugging.

But before Lannon could even set to work on the complicated lock, the Hand of Tharnin was drawn to Lannon's power, and it strongly desired to bind itself to him. The four latches opened on their own and the device came unlocked in a burst of steam. Before the gauntlet could make a move, Lannon froze it with his power. He removed Vorden's severed arm and stepped back, motioning to Prince Vannas.

"Destroy it," Lannon said.

"I wouldn't advise that," said Jace. "Too dangerous. I suggest we lock it away somewhere and study it."

"Study it?" said Taris. "Like we studied the Dragon Bones? I think I'm quite weary of studying objects infested with the Deep Shadow."

"I am opposed to studying it," said Shennen, bowing his head. "I don't want a repeat of what happened to Thrake."

"This is different," said Jace. "To destroy the Hand of Tharnin could result in a malicious demon being released in our presence. And to bury it would be folly, for it will last forever and someone would eventually find it. Place it in Dremlock's most secure vault, until we can find a way to safely destroy it. If nothing else, it should be taken out onto the ocean and sank into the deep."

Taris looked displeased, but he nodded. "If you believe it is more dangerous to destroy it than lock it in a vault, I will take your word for it. You're the expert on magical relics and that's why we hired you."

Jace bowed. "I'm just giving my opinion based on my research. The choice is yours, Tower Master."

"We will eventually sink it into the ocean," said Taris, "where it can rest at the cold, dark bottom forever, where humans cannot go."

"Where humans cannot go," mused Jace. "Well, at least not yet."