Knights The Eye of Divinity

chapter 2: The Bloodlands



Lannon packed quickly. Among the things he took with him were a couple of shabby books he'd read many times throughout his childhood called Tales of Kuran Darkender and The Truth about Goblins (both by an author named Jace Lancelord). Because books were rare, Lannon's father had paid a considerable sum of money for them back when he was able to work. Neither novel was in good condition, and The Truth about Goblins was so old it was on the verge of falling apart, with some of it unreadable. But those two books were Lannon's most prized possessions.

Lannon exchanged goodbyes several times with his parents before he actually got going, and just before he rode off with the Knights, he made his mother promise she would have Grazzal's stable fixed in the near future. Then he went to the old horse and stroked his fur, telling him the good news. Grazzal nibbled at Lannon's fingers, his dark eyes full of whatever wisdom a horse was able to acquire during its lifetime.

All things considered, Lannon parted ways with his parents feeling happier than he'd ever felt in his life. The Knights promised Lannon they would send a White Knight (a specialist in the healing arts) to try to cure his father's illness, which they said was an evil, deadly, and potentially infectious disease of magical origin that would grow more dangerous as time passed. There was no guarantee of success, since Doanan was thoroughly infested with the illness, and even if he was cured, he could suffer a relapse at some point. But it was still a better situation than Lannon had hoped for. And even if Doanan remained ill, his greatest wish had already been granted.

As they rode from the valley, the afternoon sky was grey and featureless, the mist lingering in the lowlands. The Four Lakes, which lay just beyond the northern rim of the valley, were not visible in the fog. Lannon rode with Taris, for the sorcerer was the most slender of the three and had the most room on his horse. As they passed over the hills, the Knights took to arguing about various issues, and Lannon listened with amusement as they went back and forth with their debates. It was different than when his parents argued. It was a jolly sort of bickering between men who seemed to have everything. (This was Lannon's first assumption, but it didn't take him long to realize these Knights faced problems that ran deeper than he could have imagined.)

Riding with the Knights of the Divine Order on his way to a new life of training as a Squire made Lannon almost giddy with delight. He couldn't wait to reach Dremlock Kingdom. Lannon was burning with curiosity to learn more about the skill that had made him a Squire. The thought that he was gifted somehow sent excited shivers down his spine. But he said nothing, figuring the Knights would tell him about his gift when they were ready.

As the afternoon slipped toward evening, they met many travelers on the road. Most were excited to see the famous Knights and stopped to chat, which made Lannon sit tall and proud in the saddle. The Knights always spoke politely, but Cordus made it clear he had no time for small talk--sometimes simply giving a nod and saying "May the Divine Essence warm you, traveler," before galloping on past.

Finally they came to an oaken bridge that crossed the Grey River, beyond which another road branched off leading westward. Lannon had never heard of this river until the Knights mentioned it, and he asked how it had earned such a name.

"It's as grey as Furlus' skin in some spots," Taris answered. "This river flows down from the Goblin Sea, where Foul Brothers go to drown themselves when they're old. Their bodies pile up, and the rotting grey matter is washed down this river."

"Foul Brothers?" said Lannon. "You mean the Goblins that look like us but are actually stupid? I read about them in my book The Truth About Goblins."

Taris nodded. "No one knows why they end their lives that way, but it makes parts of this river very unclean."

As they left the bridge behind, keeping to the North Road, the hills began to give way to flatland and farms. Corn and wheat fields were everywhere, and trees were sparse. Overhead, hawks, crows, and vultures wheeled about, sometimes swooping low for a look at them. Once a Goblin Vulture passed over, probably having strayed out of the Bloodlands in search of sheep. It shrieked at them in contempt. Lannon caught a glimpse of its humanoid face, which had bulbous black eyes and a mouth like a bloody gash. He pressed close to Taris. The only Goblins he had ever seen before in real life were Tree Goblins that were too timid to attack anyone but infants (and then only if they had absolutely no chance of being discovered). However, the Knights barely bothered to glance at the winged monster, and with another contemptuous shriek it soared off.

When evening had descended, and the road was becoming lost in the gloom, the Knights finally made camp. They chose a spot next to a cornfield, dug a fire pit, and settled in for the night. Despite the thick clouds, it was a warm and pleasant summer evening for camping in the open. Coyotes howled amid the corn, and bats darted in and out of the firelight. Furlus and Cordus smoked pipes and drank some ale, while Taris seemed to require nothing beyond a few sips of water.

As usual, Taris' face was partially lost in shadows beneath his hood. Lannon kept staring at the sorcerer, pondering his mysteries.

Taris took notice of Lannon's scrutiny. "Why do you gaze at me, lad?"

Lannon was caught off guard and could only shrug.

Taris continued to peer at Lannon from beneath his hood, and the boy began to squirm. The shadows hung about Taris' bright green eyes, contrasting their gleam, and some unseen power seemed to radiate from there. The Birlote’s face, framed by flowing silver hair, was strange and sinister to Lannon. Taris had a hook nose and a pointed chin. He looked somewhat devilish. Lannon couldn’t see Taris’ ears, but he had a feeling they were pointy like his chin.

Taris, who had slipped his boots off to reveal large, muscular feet with sharp toenails, kicked Lannon lightly in the chest and knocked him over. "Enough with your staring, boy!" he hissed.

Trembling, Lannon sat up and apologized.

"The lad is just curious," Furlus muttered, laying down to sleep, "that's all."

"I'm sorry," Lannon said again. "I meant no offense."

"You are forgiven," said Taris. "You have a curious mind, which is typically a good thing. We three are easy going, and you need not be afraid to speak or act freely in our presence." He cleared his throat. "Well, aside from receiving an occasional kick, that is. Yet some Knights of Dremlock--especially those of the High Council--would take great offense if you gazed at them like that. At Dremlock, you must watch your manners at all times, Lannon, or the consequences could be dire."

"I'll be careful," said Lannon. Being a Squire was already sounding much different than he'd always imagined, and part of him wondered just what he was getting himself into. He began to picture rigid Knights glaring at him as he walked the halls, and trials and meetings, and many long days and nights ahead. But he felt surely it had to be fun in some ways too. Just learning swordplay and sorcery alone would be worth putting up with strict Knights and hard work.

Lannon moved back farther from the flames. "Why do we need a fire? It seems warm enough tonight."

"It's a watch fire," said Cordus. "We're not that far from the Middle Bloodlands. Goblins sometimes creep forth in search of victims. They usually avoid towns and farms, but they will sometimes attack travelers camped out in the open. A fire usually keeps them away."

"I thought Goblins never attacked anyone outside the Bloodlands," said Lannon. "I thought they lacked the courage."

"Who told you such nonsense?" said Cordus. "At one time that may have been true. But today Goblins attack people anywhere they choose."

"It's in my book," said Lannon. "The Truth about Goblins, by Jace Lancelord." His voice was full of pride.

"Jace Lancelord?" said Taris. "That name is familiar. I remember a Knight named Jace Lancelord, back when I was a young Squire, who was booted out of the order for dabbling with forbidden magic. He had a talent for writing, too. He must be long dead by now--as that was well over a hundred years ago and you humans have such short life spans."

Lannon shrugged, unsure of what to say.

"Let me see that book," said Cordus, frowning. "Jace Lancelord," he mumbled. That was followed by muttered words Lannon couldn't quite hear.

With a trembling hand, Lannon pulled the book from his pack and handed it to Cordus. The Lord Knight flipped through some of the pages, sneering at the crude drawings and simple paragraphs within.

"Undoubtedly the ramblings of a failed Knight," said Cordus. "This book was probably written strictly for profit and not for the good of humanity. Don't believe a word of this, for it could get you killed. Goblins are not to be fooled with. At Dremlock you'll be taught the real truth about them."

Shaking his head in disgust, Cordus handed the book back to Lannon. "You would be wise to just toss that in the fire." The Lord Knight curled up in his blanket and turned his back to Lannon. He soon began to snore.

Lannon gazed gloomily at the flames. His father had been proud of those books, and that one was Lannon's favorite. Yet Cordus had acted as if it were less than worthless. He suddenly found himself missing his home and his folks. It was easy to forget the constant arguments that went on between his parents, now that he was no longer at home, and he remembered them in a more pleasant light.

"Don't worry about it, Lannon," said Taris. "Cordus meant no harm. He was simply trying to look after your best interests. May I see the book?"

Lannon handed it over.

Taris flipped through the pages and chuckled. "Though showing no date, I can tell it is very old. Who knows, there could be something worthwhile here--especially if it was written by Jace Lancelord, rest his soul. I remember him as a wise and unpredictable man that sometimes looked too deeply into things he might better have ignored. It's a fine book, Lannon." He handed it back to the lad. "Just keep it out of Cordus' sight."

Smiling, Lannon tucked the book away.

"I'd like to be a sorcerer," said Lannon, speaking on impulse. Taris looked so strange and powerful sitting there in the firelight and shadows. He wondered if Squires got to practice sorcery very often, or if one needed some sort of special qualifications to be taught the ways of magic.

"There are many who would," said Taris, "but it’s not for everyone. You have a different skill than mine. That’s what you need to remember. No matter what trials you face ahead, stay focused on the one talent that made you a Squire. For that talent--called the Eye of Divinity--is as great as any."

"What does the power do?" said Lannon.

"The answer to that question is shrouded in mystery," said Taris. "As far as I know, it works in three stages--Sight, Body, and something called Dark Wave. Sight allows you to gain knowledge of things--even secret or guarded knowledge. Body creates physical changes upon a person and their surroundings, which can vary greatly depending upon the user. Dark Wave, however, is a mysterious force that few have ever gained use of. Little is written about it in the records of Dremlock Kingdom."

"What's the difference between all that and sorcery?" said Lannon.

"There is a key difference," said Taris. "A sorcerer like myself gains power from a source that Birlotes--or Tree Dwellers as some call us--refer to as the Webbing. It is the magical barrier that protects our world from the Deep Shadow, or the dark realm of Tharnin. We mold this Webbing--which is neither evil or good--to fit our needs. But the Eye of Divinity unlocks abilities that do not come from the Webbing. In ancient times, sorcerers wielded tremendous powers that came from within--like the Eye of Divinity. But their knowledge vanished with the ages, their secrets buried perhaps forever, and now the definition of a sorcerer is one who either gains neutral power from the Webbing, or evil power from the Deep Shadow."

They did not speak for a time, while Taris tended to the fire. Then the sorcerer sat down closer to Lannon and spoke in a whisper. "I will tell you something, while we have a chance to talk alone, but the others must not know I mentioned it. Dremlock Kingdom lies in peril from within. Certain members of the High Council have been infested with the Deep Shadow--like your father's illness, only even more sinister in nature. That is why we are in such a hurry to get back. Though there are still some on the Council who can be trusted, Dremlock is at greater risk while the three of us are away."

"Then why did you leave the kingdom?" said Lannon. "Why didn't you send someone else?" He was shocked by Taris' words. He would never have imagined that Dremlock--which he'd always believed was the noblest place in the world--could be tainted by evil.

"Only the three of us," said Taris, "have the ability to identify the Eye of Divinity in a subject--or so we thought. You proved us wrong, for had you not read the Sacred Text on that boulder, we would have believed you were just an ordinary lad and might have chosen to look elsewhere. Regardless, we left our kingdom during a time when it gravely needed us there, and we can only hope that disaster has not befallen it. I'm telling you this so you'll understand that not everyone at Dremlock can be trusted. Take care, Lannon."

"But why do you need the Eye of Divinity?" asked Lannon.

"Be patient, and eventually you will know," said Taris. "For now, you should get some sleep. We have a full day of riding ahead of us."

Lannon lay down and pulled his blanket up to his chin, wondering what forces existed inside him. Could he be like the sorcerers of old that Taris spoke of? Would he ever master the Eye of Divinity and become a powerful Knight, or would he even make it to Knighthood? He didn't like that last question, so he forced it from his mind and dwelt on the other ones until he slipped off to sleep.

***

They started out in the grey light of dawn. As the day passed, the farms and cornfields gave way to soggy lowlands. No one seemed to live out there. Save for a few crows and vultures, even animals were scarce. They met no travelers, which added to the eerie feeling building in Lannon's mind. Boulders and stunted trees dotted the lowlands, and the road became mushy, making the horses snort and stamp with displeasure as their hoofs sank in. Adding to the gloomy atmosphere, the sky remained a dull block of grey. The travelers could only see a short distance ahead in the fog, and the boulders and twisted trees briefly took on sinister shapes as they materialized into view.

Lannon wanted to know if these were the Bloodlands. But a somber mood had overtaken him, and he just sat in silence like the others. They kept a steady pace all day, interrupted only by a couple of brief meals. The air grew damp and chill. A light rain began to fall. Lannon huddled under his shabby brown cloak, feeling miserable and uneasy. Something wasn't right here. The Knights had barely spoken to each other the entire day, and whenever one did speak--usually concerning something brief and necessary--the response was a grunt, nod, or shake of the head.

"Why haven't we met anyone?" Lannon finally asked. "It seems like we're the only people on this road."

"We're nearing the Middle Bloodlands," said Cordus. "Most travelers don't follow the North Road at this point, because the Bloodlands are the breeding grounds of Goblins. The Goblins are spawned by Iracus Trees, which nurse them on blood. There is another road, back at the Grey River Bridge, which splits off and leads west. It does not pass through the Bloodlands."

"Why didn't we take it then?" said Lannon. Truthfully, he wanted to see the infamous Bloodlands and glimpse some of its strange inhabitants. Maybe he would even see a Mother Nest, which was a giant Iracus Tree with a swarm of Goblins nursing on it. The dangers didn't concern him much, for he rode with the three greatest Knights in Dremlock Kingdom and felt that surely nothing could harm him.

"Because the West Road would lead us far out of our way," said Cordus. "We would have to travel all the way to the Mountains and then cut back. And if we were to go around the Bloodlands the other way--that would take us through the Guardian Mountains, which are full of dangers I won't even speak of. The North Road, however, will more or less take us straight to Dremlock. We will save many days of travel. But fear not, lad. We're more than a match for any fish-eyed Goblin that dares try its luck. And there are Rangers who spend their days wandering the road, making sure travelers are protected and keeping the monsters at bay. In fact we probably won't even come across any of the filthy beasts, save for a few Tree Goblins and Vultures."

Lannon breathed a quiet sigh that certainly wasn't one of relief. To Lannon's way of thinking--the more Goblins, the merrier the trip would be.

"If you ask me," said Furlus, "the worst thing about the Bloodlands is not the danger of Goblin attacks or quick pools--it's the stench. At times it becomes almost unbearable, even for an Olrog like myself to handle."

"The Bloodlands have grown more dangerous recently," said Taris. "This road was used frequently by travelers only a couple years ago. Rangers were plentiful back then. Now many of them have given up on this stretch. They just don't earn enough in tips anymore to make it worth the effort."

"Now Knights are the only ones who use it," said Furlus, "save for the truly brave and truly stupid--if there's much difference between the two."

"Enough," said Cordus. "We don't want to scare the boy."

"I'm not scared," said Lannon, and then quickly added, "or stupid, either." That sent the three Knights into booming laughter.

That night they camped in a tent. Lannon fell asleep pondering what the Bloodlands were going to be like. Occasionally Taris would rise and go tend the small watch fire he somehow kept burning outside despite the rain. Later that night, Furlus took to snoring so loud the tent seemed to shake, and the others had to keep elbowing him in the ribs to shut him up, which made him mutter curses at them.

The rain continued the next day. They didn't ride far before a weathered sign came into view from the fog by the roadside. It announced:



BEWARE! MIDDLE BLOODLANDS AHEAD

GOBLIN BREEDING GROUNDS!

STAY ON THE NORTH ROAD AT ALL TIMES!



"Cover your noses," grumbled Furlus.

At first Lannon thought the Knights were exaggerating about the stench. But it crept up on him, building bit by bit, until he seemed to be choking on it. The rain grew heavier, the mist thicker. The trail became treacherous, with deep, muddy pools and great black roots that made the horses stumble. The trees that reached forth from the fog grew larger and more twisted, and shadows seemed to hang like doom amid their branches. These were obviously Iracus Trees, but Lannon no longer cared. He hung his head low against the steady drizzle, and he kept shifting about in the saddle trying to find new positions that would ease the soreness from riding. Once in awhile he looked up, imagining that the Firepit Mountains and Dremlock Kingdom would meet his gaze, but always there was only more fog, mud, and the evil-looking trees.

Lannon's thoughts dwelt more and more on home. Were his father and mother at peace now, or were they still ranting at each over every petty thing imaginable? He was nagged by guilt for leaving them to their fate, and he had to keep reminding himself that this was something they had wanted for him.

The rain fell harder. The roots that crisscrossed the road became larger and more tangled, forcing the travelers to ride at half their normal speed. The Iracus Trees grew closer together, almost as a forest in places. No sign of animal life existed here--not even Goblins, from what Lannon could see, on the rare occasions when he bothered to lift his head for a glance.

Furlus pointed at a particularly vicious tangle of roots, shaking his head. "What's wrong with the Rangers these days? They've grown lazy, if you ask me. This road used to be decent for traveling, aside from the smell. Now look at it."

"Would you want to spend weeks or months here," said Taris, "doing little but killing Goblins and chopping at roots and trees?"

"If that's how I made my living, yes," said Furlus. "And I'd do a better job than these lazy Rangers, who don't know what hard work is."

The sorcerer laughed. "What we do is not, at the worst of times, any more miserable than what these Rangers put up with. If some grow weary of it and seek their fortune elsewhere, who are we to question it?"

The Grey Dwarf glowered at Taris. "You say I know nothing of hard work? Who spends the most time with the Squires, seeing to their training? Who runs the Deep Forge and keeps the other Olrogs in line? And who hides away in his tower practicing his witchcraft, day in and day out? I do most of the work around Dremlock!"

"Enough," said Cordus. "I know we're all miserable, but I don't want to hear this nonsense from my Tower Masters. The stench is bad enough. Do my ears need assaulting as well?"

As they rounded a curve, from out of the mist rode a woman on a great white horse that was heavily laden with packs. She wore battered chain mail and dirty clothes. A dagger and sword hung from her belt, and slung across her back was a bow and a quiver of arrows. Her long auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail. Her green eyes were stern, her face hard yet beautiful. Crouched next to her was a black wolf, watching them intently, ready to spring if the need should arise.

The rider raised her hand and the Knights halted. For a moment she sat in silence, studying the Knights and Lannon with a piercing gaze that seemed to leave no detail hidden. Then she spoke in an amused voice. "Cordus, Furlus, and Taris. Are you three on an important mission? Is this boy a spy of the Blood Legion, or a Goblin in disguise?"

"Is this any way to greet Divine Knights, Saranna?" Cordus said.

Saranna smiled. "Maybe you're not as divine as you think, Lord Knight. Right now you look as wet and muddy as any tree-hacking Ranger."

Lannon tensed up, wondering if a fight was brewing. Surely this Ranger had to be a fool to speak that way to the Knights.

But the Knights only chuckled.

"It's good to see you again, old friend," said Cordus. "But we must make haste and have no time for idle talk."

"I have more on my mind than idle talk," said Saranna. "There has been trouble up ahead. A wagon was hit and a rich merchant slain. His money and goods were stolen."

"And have the ones responsible been brought to justice?" said Cordus.

"They have not," said Saranna. "They've gone deep into the swamps, where even Rangers dare not travel."

"Then the thieves are good as dead," said Cordus. "The swamps will devour them. We need not concern ourselves with this matter."

"The thieves live," said Saranna. "For they are Goblins."

"Are you saying lowly Goblins stole a merchant's goods?" said Cordus. "Everyone knows Goblins lack such intelligence."

"It was done by Goblins," said Saranna. "The tracks are unmistakable. And the money chests were ripped open. I found claw marks in the wood. This isn't the first time Goblins in this region have done things like this."

The Knights exchanged knowing glances. Then Cordus leaned forward and frowned. "The merchant should not have been allowed to travel this road. Only Knights must be granted permission to pass here henceforth."

Saranna shrugged. "I lack such authority, Cordus. I'm simply here to protect travelers and earn my tips."

"I see," said Cordus. "Regardless, I have a favor to ask of you--that you refrain from mentioning this incident to anyone. We wouldn't want to stir up panic all over Silverland. That could cause trade to slow or even stop, and could possibly lead to hunger or other ills. I know that as a Ranger--and the best of your lot as far as I'm concerned--you might feel obligated to inform the people of danger, but in this case silence is the wiser path. And I now grant you authority to close this road to all who lack written permission signed by my own hand. It seems the North Road has become too dangerous to be kept open to public use."

Saranna sighed thoughtfully. "I'll discuss it with the other Rangers. Together, we can close this road to the public. Yet folks should be warned of this danger. If Goblins are becoming intelligent enough to steal money... Well, I've never heard of such a thing. This is huge news, and strange beyond imagining!"

Lannon's gaze passed back and forth from the Ranger to the Knights, and chills crept over his flesh. Goblins, growing as intelligent as humans? Lannon had always imagined Goblins as being nothing more than fierce, yet mindless, monsters--simple animals. If they actually were gaining human-like intelligence, it would make them vastly more dangerous, and he suddenly lost all desire to encounter any.

"We are doing everything possible," said Cordus, "to solve this mystery. You have to trust me, and give us time."

She nodded. "For now, I'll wait and do as you wish. Yet if the road is closed to the public, how will we make our living? We cannot survive on nothing, Lord Knight."

"From this point on," said Cordus, "you will be paid by Dremlock. You will keep the road maintained for Knightly use. In exchange you'll receive more silver than you ever made from tips, and superior weapons and armor." He took a leather pouch from one of his packs and tossed it to her. "And now here's a tip for your dedication to defending this road, Saranna."

Furlus and Taris also tossed pouches to her.

The Ranger sat like stone for several moments, while rain drizzled down. Her green eyes gazed unblinking into Cordus' blue ones. Lannon watched her in fascination. There was something very compelling about Saranna--something rugged and unyielding, yet deeply feminine.

Finally Saranna nodded. "I agree to your terms for now. But this means nothing, really. As the whole, the Rangers shall decide what must be done. There's more to this tale than I have time to tell you here."

Cordus nodded. "The message the Rangers sent us was received, so we know what has been taking place out here. But we can spare no Knights at this time. We are scattered all over Silverland right now."

"A desperate situation?" said Saranna.

"As desperate," said Cordus, "as any ever encountered by Dremlock. Now if there is nothing else, we must move on."

"Farewell," said Saranna, "and ride with caution, for the North Road has become black with peril. Four Rangers were killed in the last month alone. The West Drop and East Bloat trails are both overrun by Goblins. There's going to be a meeting at the Dead Goblin Inn tomorrow night, and then we'll learn the fate of the North Road. No one is safe here anymore."

Furlus eyed Saranna with a smug look. He pointed a thick finger at her. "Save your warnings, Ranger, for those who need it. We can look after ourselves."

The Ranger's black wolf snarled, eyeing Furlus distrustfully.

Saranna bowed. "Whatever you say, Tower Master. Good luck to you all. By the way, don't think we are ignorant about the so-called Goblin Puzzle, for it's no great secret!" With that, she galloped on past them and was swallowed up by the fog. The wolf looked them over once more, and then trotted after her.

"The Goblin Puzzle?" said Lannon.

"Don’t concern yourself with such talk, Lannon" said Cordus, his eyes narrowing in irritation. "You're going to Dremlock as a Squire. You will train as the other Squires do and receive no special favors. The first thing you need to learn is that some knowledge is forbidden to you at this time. The Goblin Puzzle is something that falls into that category. If you hear someone mention something you don't understand, push it out of your mind for now. We'll teach you all you need to learn, when the time is right."

"You'll learn about the Goblin Puzzle soon enough," said Taris.

Cordus shot the sorcerer a warning glance, which Taris blatantly ignored. "Probably sooner than you'll want to," Taris finished.

Lannon fidgeted about restlessly, tormented with the need to ask about the Ranger's statements, hoping the Knights would discuss it with each other. But they maintained a staunch silence and instead concentrated upon navigating the Greywinds through the rain, mist, and mud.

At one point they passed the remains of the wagon. It lay on its side in pieces. Even to Lannon's untrained eye, there was no mistaking the claw marks in the wood. Lannon shuddered, pressing close to Taris. For an instant he felt exposed and vulnerable. Goblins had torn apart the wagon and killed the merchant. Who knew what they might be planning? Maybe they were watching right now from the mist and tree branches.

Not far beyond the wagon, they came across the first great Iracus Trees--the Mothers. Bloated and twisted, with reddish needles on their low-hanging branches, these Goblin-spawning trees had now almost completely taken the place of the others. Their bark was grey and sickly looking, and their roots were huge, rising up in arches and disappearing again beneath the mud. The Rangers had hacked down any of the trees that dared grow too close to the road, and they lay like giant, pale skeletons in the fog. The stench clung to the travelers' lungs and throats with the thickness of molasses, fixing their faces in tense masks as they struggled to breathe.

"Where will we sleep tonight?" asked Lannon.

"At the Dead Goblin Inn," said Furlus, with a touch of pride in his voice. "We can rest the Greywinds, take a break from the stench, and get good food. It's for Rangers, mostly. Yet the inn actually does well for business, since it's the only one along this stretch. It's run by an Olrog."

"The Mother Trees are thinning out," said Cordus. "The Dead Goblin lies just ahead. I can almost smell the incense from here." Even as he finished speaking, the Mothers gave way to the lesser Iracus Trees again, with the road becoming mostly free of roots. The rain suddenly burst into a downpour, and the Knights drove their horses into a gallop. As they passed down a long, straight stretch of the trail, a sign faded into view from the fog that said:



DEAD GOBLIN INN

CLEAN ROOMS, GOOD FOOD,

AND BEST OF ALL,

NO STENCH!



The inn was set back a bit from the road, almost obscured by the mist. It was three stories high and made mostly of huge logs. The Knights took the Greywinds behind to a stable, where they surrendered them to a young Ranger whom they tipped generously, and then entered the inn.

The Dead Goblin was an appropriate name for it. Behind the bar was mounted the boulder-sized head of a Cave Troll, which was the main attraction. But there were also many smaller dead, stuffed Goblins within--such as Vultures, Tree Goblins, and a Foul Brother standing in one corner, its sad, dumb eyes gazing into nothingness and its hands raised as if to ward off the attack that had felled it. Thick stalks of incense burned in every corner, filling the inn with a sweet aroma that almost, but not quite, blocked out the stench of the Bloodlands.

Lannon stared in fascination at the trophies. Every corner he glanced at seemed to contain something interesting, and his eyes could not take in all the sights with just one pass, or even ten. Mingled with the Goblins were wooden carvings, twisted Iracus Roots that had sinister shapes, and paintings of famous Rangers of the past.

Several Rangers sat at tables, talking over dinner and drinks. None of them greeted the Knights. Their faces were grim, and they muttered quiet words to each other. A dark tension hung about the place. The Olrog innkeeper, whom one of the Knights addressed as Sambar, was a bit shorter than Furlus, and his huge beard and flowing hair were a darker shade of grey--almost black. Ale was poured for Furlus and Cordus, and milk for Lannon. Taris drank water.

"There was some trouble earlier this day," Sambar said grimly.

"We've heard," said Cordus, sighing.

"More and more attacks!" said Sambar. "Goblins showing intelligence--even organizing into groups. What in Tharnin is going on, Cordus?"

"I wish I could say for sure," said Cordus.

"I fear the legends of old," said Sambar. "The Deep Shadow was not destroyed in the ancient war. All the Crimson Flamestone did was drive the Barloak demons back to Tharnin. The Shadow itself still exists. Could it be that another great assault is soon to be waged upon our world?"

Lannon wasn't sure what Sambar was referring to, since he didn't know much about the history of the land. But he wanted to hear more, for he felt a sudden, overpowering anxiety grip him at Sambar's words.

Cordus shook his head slowly. "There are many mysteries. But real history is fused with myth. I think the greatest peril to our world lies right here in Silverland, as it has for centuries. Beyond that, who knows?"

Sambar sighed. "Yet as far as Silverland goes, I fear the North Road is soon to fall. There are barely enough Rangers left to maintain it. I don't know if I can keep the inn open much longer. If the Dead Goblin closes, that's pretty much the end of the North Road. The Rangers need a place to sleep, to escape the stench, and so do travelers."

"It's a matter of money, then?" said Cordus.

Sambar stroked his beard. "It certainly is."

Cordus nodded. "Dremlock Kingdom will make a contribution to the Dead Goblin Inn--money and supplies as needed."

"That solves half the problem," said Sambar. "But what about the attacks? Rangers are getting killed defending a road few use anymore."

"You need better weapons and armor," said Cordus, "which will be supplied. And as soon as any Knights can be spared, I will send them down this way."

Sambar nodded. "But we need help in a hurry, Cordus, or it's going to be too late. Only the most rugged Rangers remain, and they're growing bitter toward Dremlock Kingdom." Sambar added in a whisper, "Look at their faces."

The travelers turned. The Rangers were staring hard at Cordus, anger in their eyes. A couple of them shook their heads in disgust.

"As soon as I reach Dremlock," said Cordus, turning back to Sambar, "assistance, with the exception of Knights, will be sent immediately. The North Road is vital to Dremlock Kingdom, as it gives us a direct route to the southern cities."

"But not so vital you can spare a few Knights?" questioned Sambar.

"We have none to spare," Cordus repeated wearily. "Do not doubt my words, innkeeper. If I could spare even a single one to help defend the road, I would do so. But right now it's just not possible. Now we would like some dinner."

Furlus licked his lips. "You know what I want, Sambar."

Sambar nodded. "Red meat, of course. If you weren't so ugly, Furlus, I'd mistake you for an Olrog."

Furlus chuckled. "Furlus Goblincrusher is everything an Olrog should be, Sambar. I've got blood like the fire pools of the deep, and skin like mountain rock."

"And the face of a mountain goat," said Sambar.

That statement brought on laughter from everyone but the Rangers, who continued to glare at Cordus with deep contempt.

Lannon kept staring a sword that was made of some type of animal bones that hung behind the bar. The sword was elaborately constructed, the bones fitted neatly together to form an elegant and fierce-looking weapon.

"That is a real dragon-bone sword, my young friend," said Sambar, nodding to Lannon. "It's for sale, at thirty silver pieces. Kingdom pieces, that is."

Furlus Goblincrusher chuckled. "Thirty kingdom pieces, for a sword made of bones? Waste of good coin, if you ask me."

"Dragon bone is quite rare," said Sambar. "And stronger and sharper than steel. And much lighter too."

"I didn't think real dragons existed," said Lannon. "I read in my book, The Truth about Goblins, that dragons are just winged Goblins, like the Vultures."

"Your book spoke true," said Sambar. "Dragons are a type of rare winged Goblin. The ones spoken of in legend probably never existed. But modern dragons are a very special sort of Goblin, possessing great power. No man has ever slain one, or even seen one die, but their bones can be found in the cliffs beyond the West Drop. They're not easy to obtain, and very difficult to forge into bladed weapons."

"And those bones are better left to rot," said Furlus. "The best weapons and armor are made from Glaetherin, the strongest metal in existence."

Sambar nodded. "That may be true, but dragon bone is stout stuff nonetheless, and only Divine Knights are permitted to wield Glaetherin. Even you must admit, Furlus, that dragon bone is a worthy material."

Lannon's eyes were fixed on the magnificent sword. "I wish I had enough silver. I would definitely buy it."

"You're better off with weapons and armor forged in our kingdom," said Cordus, waving in a dismissive gesture. "That sword is no doubt a fine weapon, but it is vastly over priced. Sambar has been trying to sell that thing for years."

"The boy clearly wants the sword," mumbled Sambar. "And goodness knows I could use the money. This is a chance to help me out and help keep the Dead Goblin Inn open for business."

"But it looks exactly like the Kingdom Sword of Dremlock," said Cordus, frowning. "Some might mistake it for that and believe Lannon has been given special permission to wield it. This could cause resentment."

"It is better than the Kingdom Sword," said Sambar, "which everyone knows is a fake. Your Kingdom Sword is actually made of Cave Troll bones rather than Dragon bones."

Furlus chuckled. "Yes, it's true. Our legendary Kingdom Sword is nothing but old Troll bones carved to look like those of a Dragon. It's the worst kept secret in Dremlock, yet always a topic for debate."

"But my sword is the real thing," said Sambar. "I can prove it." He took down the sword and handed it to Furlus. "See if you can break it."

Furlus grunted as he sought to snap it two, his huge muscles bulging from the strain. Finally he handed it back to Sambar. "Yes, innkeeper, it is Dragon bone. But it is still second rate compared to Glaetherin."

"It is slightly different than the Kingdom Sword," said Taris. "As you can see, this sword has a red sash tied to it, whereas the Kingdom Sword is adorned with a green sash. A minor difference, but still a difference."

"And there you have it," said Sambar. "The sashes are a different color and no one could possibly confuse them. The boy should have this sword."

"Do you really want the sword, Lannon?" said Taris. "You would not be allowed to carry it until you pass the Color Trials and become a true Squire. And you must never try to claim that it's the Kingdom Sword. You'll have to leave the red sash fastened to it at all times."

"Yes!" Lannon said excitedly. "I would love to have it."

"I'll purchase it for you," said Taris. "You can carry it until we reach Dremlock, and then you must leave it my care until after the Color Trials." He nodded to Sambar. "Consider this an additional contribution for your dedication to keeping the Dead Goblin Inn open."

Furlus shook his head. "It's a fine enough weapon, but not worth nearly that many kingdom pieces."

Cordus shrugged. "It's Taris' money, and he may do what he chooses with it. And if it helps Sambar out, it's for a good cause."

Taris paid the innkeeper, and Sambar sheathed the sword and handed it to the sorcerer. Taris then presented the sword to Lannon. "May this serve you well," he said, eyeing Lannon sternly from beneath his hood. "Over time, a dragon-bone sword--just as with any sword made of Goblin bone--will bond with its owner, and in spite of what Furlus believes, it will serve you well enough. This is my gift to the savior of Dremlock Kingdom."

Cordus slammed his fist down on the bar. "Taris! That's enough of that talk. The boy hasn't even passed the Color Trials yet."

"Lannon may fail the Trials," said Furlus. "What then of the sword?"

"I will speak no more of it," said Taris, turning away.

Cordus patted Lannon on the back. "It's a good sword, and I'm sure you'll do fine in the Color Trials."

The sword felt light and perfectly balanced in Lannon's grasp. He could barely bring himself to believe that Taris had just given it to him.

Sambar started to open his mouth as if to say something, but then he closed it again and shrugged. "More ale?"

That night the travelers bathed themselves and slept in clean rooms. Lannon's belly was full of good food and drink, he had a new sword, and Dremlock Kingdom was growing ever closer. He should have been content. Yet even upstairs, behind locked doors, he could feel the anger of the men and women below. It seemed to fill the air, contrasting the sweet aroma of the incense and merging with the faint stench of the Bloodlands, which could never be completely concealed here. And deep uncertainty weighed down on him, making him restless. Just what was expected of him in the days ahead? How much were Knights concealing from him, and ultimately, what was the risk? His deepest fears whispered to him in his father's voice that death wasn't the worst fate one could encounter.