Knights The Eye of Divinity

chapter 13: Whispers of Flame



When the Squires arrived at the East Tower, Aldreya was taken to her room and the boys were led to the Blue Squires' quarters. The two Red Knights warned the boys not to try to leave their rooms without permission and that they would be watched at all times. "You dodged an arrow, Squires," they said. "Anyone else would have been banished for what you did. But don't go trying to pull anything on us. The East Tower is on full alert, and which means that you-know-who is creeping around somewhere right outside your door."

"The Watcher?" said Vorden.

The guards glanced at each other. "Let's just say nothing you do will be a secret from this point on, so just do as you're told. If you need anything, or if you observe anything unusual, give a holler."

The boys were herded into their room and the door was closed and locked behind them. They suspected at least one of the guards was posted just outside, though no one checked. They sat close to each other on the beds, and kept their voices at a whisper, though at this point they had little to hide.

"I guess I should feel happy about remaining a Squire," said Vorden. "But I can't stop thinking about Clayith. Clayith was a good person deep inside, and I'm not proud of what I did. It was just an instinctive thing, I guess." Vorden gave a troubled sigh, running his fingers through his black hair.

Lannon nodded. "I just wish there had been another way."

"I've thought of that, too," said Vorden. "It's not like Clayith knew what he was doing. But how was I supposed to know that? All I knew what that he was trying to kill you, and I just reacted. I keep seeing it in my mind, and I don't like it. I don't like the thought that I killed an innocent person."

"There's nothing to be done about it now," said Jerret. "It's just a bad way things worked out. But hopefully we've learned our lesson."

Timlin just sat watching, offering no opinion. For an instant, Lannon wondered what motivated the little fellow, if Timlin ever really cared about who lived or died. In some ways he was very likable, even sympathetic, yet in other ways he seemed strangely unfeeling towards others.

Timlin seemed to notice Lannon's scrutiny of him, and he lowered his gaze, looking uncomfortable. But he still said nothing.

"I guess I just need to put it out of my mind," said Vorden. "If I can, that is. It's not going to do me any good to dwell on it."

"But what's going on with that Kealin fellow?" said Jerret. "He didn't look too happy with you, Lannon."

"Not at all," Lannon agreed.

"It's obvious," said Vorden, "that Kealin and Moten, and maybe one or two other High Council members are corrupt. Kealin might even be involved with the Deep Shadow, like some of the rumors suggest. I don't think I'd want to be in your shoes, Lannon. They must see you as a threat, because you have the Eye of Divinity, and they probably sent Clayith to kill you."

"I just can't believe any of this," said Jerret. "What has Dremlock come to? The Knights should just round up anyone they suspect of having dealings with the Deep Shadow and imprison them."

"They can't do that," said Vorden. "They need evidence. Otherwise they would be just as bad as the guilty ones."

"That's stupid," muttered Jerret. "If they know who's evil, they should take them down--with or without evidence."

"They should kill them," said Timlin. "Before they kill Lannon."

"Not without evidence," Vorden insisted. "People have rights. Laws are important. I don't think either of you understand how it all works."

"I understand someone wants me dead," said Lannon. "I understand that Clayith was used against his will as my assassin. I'd rather see Kealin imprisoned on weak evidence than have him plotting to kill me. If he's the one, that is."

Vorden frowned. "I'm surprised at you, Lannon. You always seemed like you had a solid grasp on right and wrong."

"You're pretty righteous all of a sudden, Vorden," said Jerret, rolling his eyes. "What's got into you?"

"It's not that," said Vorden, looking away. "Like I said, I feel bad about what happened to Clayith. Maybe I'm just trying to get things in order, to figure out where I stand. Is there anything wrong with that?" He moved off to his bed and lay down, a troubled expression on his face.

"No, there's nothing wrong with that," Jerret said. "Clayith was my friend, but I know you did what you had to do. I don't hold it against you--at least not on the surface, I guess. Deep inside, who knows what I feel?"

The Squires fell silent. Lannon glanced about the room, where the shadows were deepening. "We should light a lantern," he said.

They did so, and then lay down on their beds to sleep. For a long time no one spoke, as there was much on their minds, until Timlin finally broke the silence. "I'm just glad we're still Squires," he said. "Because before I was..." Timlin let his words trail off, and looked away sheepishly.

"Finish what you were saying," said Lannon.

"I guess I never really had anything," said Timlin, turning onto his side to face Lannon. "Now I feel like I belong, like I have something worthwhile. And I'm just glad I didn't lose it and end up back where I was."

"I feel the same way," said Lannon. "When I lived with my parents, things were a lot less interesting. They argued a lot, and my father was sick most of the time. Now I feel like I have some kind of future."

"I'd rather die than go back to my parents," said Timlin. "They were never nice to me, no matter what I did. My aunt was okay--a little strict, but not too bad. But living with her was really boring. We never did much, and I spent a lot of time just sitting home doing nothing, wishing I had someplace fun to go."

"I know the feeling," said Lannon. "It's like sometimes you think the rest of the world is moving on without you--like you have no place in it."

"Exactly," said Timlin. "But now that's all changed. I could be a Knight someday, and have anything I want. Even now, it all seems too good to be true."

Timlin turned away, and not long after that, he was asleep. Lannon rolled onto his back and adjusted his quilt. He thought back to the gesture Kealin had made--the fingers across the throat--and wondered if he should make sure the guards were still there. But then he decided they must be. After all, the Knights were not stupid, and Vesselin Hopebringer had said he would be watched closely.

As he drifted towards sleep, his thoughts focused on his parents. If Goblins were threatening Kalamede and other places, were they in any danger? Their little valley was a long way off, but still it worried him, making him wish the Knights would take some sort of action to turn the tide, though he suspected they were doing all they could.

And then he slipped into a surprisingly deep sleep.

***

When Lannon awoke, he could barely move because of the Whispers. He had been dreaming of the Whispers. He had watched them in his mind as they materialized out of the shadows, taking physical form and becoming talons of flame that burrowed into his soul and froze him. His eyelids could move (they popped open as he awoke) and he could wiggle his toes and fingers, but that was about it. It was as if he were buried up to his head in sand. He panicked, and his heart beat furiously, yet he still couldn't move his arms or legs.

The Whispers were some form of dark sorcery unlike anything Lannon had ever imagined. They were alive--writhing serpents of flame and evil that sought only to stop a living being from moving. They fed off paralysis and grew stronger. Each surge of panic, and each failed attempt at movement, caused the Whispers to constrict ever tighter. They were of flame, yet they seared like ice.

Lannon knew what was happening, with a bloodcurdling dread that flooded his mind, and he realized both he and the Knights had made a terrible mistake. They had underestimated their enemies.

The lantern had gone out, and someone was moving towards him in the darkness, quiet footsteps that he could hear only because his training had sharpened his senses. Then a figure leaned over him. He knew this because the rustling of fabric was just above him. A moment later he saw a cold blue knife blade appear, and in its glow he saw a face that was a mask of shifting shadows. Glowering down at him were crazed eyes of a violet hue that burned into Lannon and invoked a haunting memory.

There was no mistaking it. These were the eyes of Tenneth Bard, a man believed long dead. These were the eyes of the Black Knight, the founder of the Blood Legion, and the sworn enemy of Dremlock Kingdom. Lannon knew this beyond a doubt, because he had seen those same eyes on that stone statue in the ruins of Serenlock Castle. Only now, in reality, they were far more powerful and evil.

But Lannon could do nothing. The Whispers still held him frozen, and his vocal cords would not work, his scream lost in silence.

"Lannon Sunshield," came a quiet hiss. "At last I have you. You won't be causing me any trouble, boy. This is my time, and you must die!"

The knife blade glowed brighter, charged with some magical energy--soon to swipe down and piece Lannon's heart. He closed his eyes, hoping for a quick end if nothing else, and in desperation, he struggled to call forth the Eye. He did not believe he would succeed, but he knew he had to somehow or all was lost. He imagined Timlin and Vorden assisting him, and his body started to tingle.

Then, perhaps out of sheer desperation, his mind split, and the Eye of Divinity reached out, probing the figure before him. The things Lannon glimpsed might have driven him mad, for he observed the fringe of some terrible darkness that sought to drag him in. But then the Whispers became intertwined with the Eye of Divinity, and the Eye rebelled against them. The Eye suddenly shifted and became a physical power that seized the figure and held it motionless.

The evil eyes widened in shock. Then the figure fought back furiously, striving to break the force that held its blade in check. "I'll slay you yet, Lannon Sunshield!" the dark form grunted, and slowly the blade began to descend. Lannon struggled with all his might, commanding the Eye to stop his assailant, yet it was a losing effort. In a moment the blade would come down into his chest.

In a last effort to save himself, Lannon diverted a small portion of his power to a bed next to his, flipping it over and knocking Timlin to the floor. "Hey!" Timlin yelled. "What's happening?"

Moments later the door opened, spilling torchlight into the room. A cloaked figure entered, holding a stone dagger that burned with green fire. A tongue of flame hurtled out from the dagger and burned into Lannon's attacker.

An explosion of sparks erupted, and the figure staggered to one side, its shoulder on fire. More tongues of flame shot out at him at him from the stone dagger, only this time the figure somehow eluded them and they burst against the stone wall, sending green sparks bouncing about the room.

"You'll die yet," the figure muttered at Lannon, and then, still partially on fire, it leapt out the open window and was gone.

The Whispers departed from Lannon, the burning fingers releasing his soul and vanishing, and he could move again. He sat up, feeling lightheaded and dizzy. The Eye of Divinity drew back inside him completely. Vorden, Timlin, and Jerret had all gotten up, and were staring on with wide eyes. Vorden held his axe at ready (the axe that had slain Clayith, Lannon thought numbly, as random emotions swirled through his mind). He directed his gaze on the one who had entered the room.

It was Taris Warhawk. Behind him were two Red Knights, their weapons drawn. One of them was holding a lantern. The two Knights ran to the window and peered out, muttering in disbelief.

Taris calmly walked over to Lannon. "Are you alright?"

Lannon wasn't sure, but he nodded. He felt sick to his stomach, and still in the clutches of the darkness. He didn't even try to speak.

Taris turned to the guards. "Go to Cordus immediately. Organize a search of the Kingdom grounds. This would-be assassin must be caught!"

Bowing, the guards hurried off to do as ordered.

Taris walked to the window and peered out. "It’s a long way down," he said. "The fall should have killed him instantly, even if he landed in a heap of snow. Yet there is no sign of his crushed body below--no blood even! It’s as if he simply got up and walked away after falling hundreds of feet. Who could have done this? No one I know possesses that kind of power. It is very fortunate that I happened to be here talking to the guards when you were attacked. Did you get a look at him?"

Lannon nodded. He tried to steady himself enough to speak. "I know who it was, I think. He's supposed to be dead."

Taris went and knelt beside the boy, his green eyes narrowing. "Who was he, Lannon?"

"Tenneth Bard," Lannon whispered.

"Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight," Taris said. "Yes, I think this is starting to make sense, now. When the search is ended, we must call a meeting at once. I would like to involve the Ranger as well. In fact, I would like to involve her in the search. Who better to track a man than a Ranger?"

Lannon and the other boys watched Taris in silence.

"If this is indeed Tenneth Bard," Taris said, turning to stare at Vorden, "we will not find him right away. His powers must have grown drastically. On the other hand, he wasn't expecting to get caught, so perhaps there is a chance. Well, am I right?"

Vorden nodded, obviously unsure of how to respond. "I think so."

Taris stood up. "These are grim events, my young friends. And yet the veil of mystery has, perhaps, been partially lifted. The answers to the riddles that have haunted Dremlock may at last be within our reach."

Taris motioned to Timlin. "Come here."

Trembling, Timlin hurried over and stood before him.

"Did you see anything?" Taris asked.

Timlin nodded. "Just a glimpse." He closed his eyes for a moment. "Wait--I remember something. He carried something in his hand--not the knife, but in his other hand. Something dark and round. He pulled it against his chest as he jumped out the window. And his face was strange, like shifting shadows."

Taris looked beyond the lad, gazing into apparent nothingness. A light of understanding was in his eyes. "I must say, Squires, that I think there may be hope for this old kingdom yet--something I wasn't quite sure of just a short time ago."

The others could only stare at him in confusion. Lannon clutched his stomach. He could still feel the Whispers inside him--just a memory now, but still potent enough to make him ill. In the back of his mind he realized the Eye of Divinity had saved him, that he had called it forth on his own and it had changed form and become a different type of force. But at the moment, it didn't seem to matter. Tenneth Bard was alive, perhaps more powerful than ever, and he wanted Lannon dead. In his shocked state of mind, Lannon felt that surely the Black Knight would eventually get his way, that no one could stop him.

The Whispers would make sure Lannon met his doom.