Knights The Eye of Divinity

chapter 3: Goblins, Hills, and Elder Lands



After a quick yet delicious breakfast, they set out from the Dead Goblin. The rain had slacked off, but the mist remained heavy. The Iracus Trees thickened, and the Mothers appeared again, their arching roots crisscrossing the road. The Knights drove the Greywinds as fast as they dared.

At one point Furlus' horse stumbled and went down, dumping him headfirst into the mud. Lannon started to laugh, but when he saw the look on Furlus' face, he strangled it. Bellowing curses, Furlus lunged up, his beard dripping filth and his dark eyes blazing with fury. He wiped his beard with his sleeve, grabbed the root that had felled his horse, and tore it two. Dark blood poured out from the severed ends. The angry Tower Master cast the ends aside.

"I've had enough of this, Cordus!" Furlus' brow was knotted with rage. "We leave a comfortable inn and ride like Tharnin through this slop--for no good reason! We could have stayed another night and waited for better weather."

Cordus sighed. "Do you want to go back? You saw the way the Rangers regarded us. I don't know about you, but I have no wish to spend another night at that inn. And, considering what we're facing, we dare not waste even a single day. Now get on your horse and ride with us, or go stay with the Rangers. But I'll move on and tonight sleep amongst the Northern Hills where I won't have a bunch of contemptuous people breathing down my neck."

Furlus nodded, his face red with embarrassment. "Since you put it that way, I'll keep quiet." He patted his horse and then swung up into the saddle.

"Where's the Scribe," Taris said, smiling. "We need to record this wondrous moment. Furlus Goblincrusher admitting he is wrong!"

"I admitted nothing, oh dark one," said Furlus, wringing out his beard. "I simply said I'd keep quiet for now. Let's just concentrate on getting through this giant dung pit. I've had too much open sky above me on this journey, and now these filthy Bloodlands are getting to me. I guess I just need to get back to the silver mines and the Deep Forge."

"Of course," said Taris. "We all know how lovely the mines are."

"A Tree Dweller like you wouldn't understand," mumbled Furlus.

The stench and misery continued throughout the day. The riders became distracted, paying little heed to their surroundings. They simply pushed onward as the hours slipped by. They ate a quick lunch of dry foods, without dismounting, and rode without pause until dinner. At dinner, they seated themselves on a log and forced down some leftovers from the inn.

When they set off again, the Iracus Trees formed a forest, while the mist became almost like a solid wall. They were forced to go slower than ever. Twice, Taris stopped his horse and sat still, gazing off into the fog as if straining to see or hear something. But when asked about it by Cordus, he simply shook his head and they continued on. Because the sun was lost from view, it was difficult to tell what time of day it was, but they felt it was nearing evening.

When Taris stopped for the third time, the sorcerer spoke. "I think Goblins are watching us. I can't tell how many, or their kind."

"How long have they been following?" Cordus asked.

"I'm not sure."

Furlus readied his axe. "Something to interrupt the boredom, I guess."

"Let us hope they're not Goblin Lords," said Cordus, drawing his broadsword. "That's the last thing we need right now."

"Not likely," said Taris. "No Goblin Lord has ever been spotted near the Middle Bloodlands. But anything is possible, I suppose."

Cordus shook his head. "Before breakfast, Sambar described, for me alone, Goblins that resembled Lords. A Ranger spotted them on the road. I fear they might be planning to finish us off before we reach Dremlock."

"I'll bet they're waiting for us to pass through the North Gate," said Furlus. "Then they will try to ambush us."

"You should have told us earlier," said Taris, shooting Cordus an angry glance. "Why did you wait?"

"I didn't want to scare the boy," said Cordus.

"But if these are indeed Goblin Lords we're dealing with," said Taris, "then we should have been watching for them."

"We were staying alert, regardless," said Cordus. "I intended to tell you, but the hours slipped past quickly."

Lannon glanced about, but all he could see was mist. His hands clenched Taris' cloak so hard his fingers ached. He thought he could feel yellow eyes peering out at him, teeth and claws ready to rip the flesh from his bones like they had done to the merchant. He began to tremble, suddenly wishing he were safely back in Knights Valley or at Dremlock Kingdom--anywhere but in the Bloodlands.

"Calm yourself, Lannon," Taris said to him. "We will protect you."

"Draw your sword, Lannon," Cordus commanded.

"What?" said Lannon. "You mean...?"

"You ride with Knights," said Cordus. "You are expected to fight with us if need be. You wanted the sword, and now it is yours. Thus, we no longer protect an unarmed lad. Now, draw your sword!"

With a trembling hand, Lannon drew the bone sword from the sheath at his belt. It felt cumbersome and useless in his grasp. He had no desire to test his skill against the Goblins.

Cordus nodded to him. "You will fight only when ordered to, however. Is that understood?"

"It is definitely understood," said Lannon, breathing a sigh of relief.

The Knights stared off into the mist, and exchanged concerned glances. Grim tension hung between them. Even the horses seemed to feel it, for they whinnied nervously.

The land crept upward and then flattened. The mist thinned, revealing two huge boulders on either side of the road. Smaller boulders lay just beyond them, barely visible in the fog. Thick Iracus roots clung to the two big rocks, hanging off them like ragged spider webs, their strands disappearing into the mist.

"The North Gate," Cordus said quietly. "The Hills lie not far beyond. This is where the Goblins will probably make their attack."

Taris rode up alongside him. "I sense the Goblins are close." The sorcerer pulled a stone dagger from his cloak, and it erupted into greenish flames.

Just then, a tall figure walked from the mist. It was a Foul Brother--yet certainly not one of normal intelligence (which for a Foul Brother was virtually no intelligence at all). It wore a black cloak and carried a twisted wooden staff. It was powerfully built, with hands and feet that were slightly larger than those of a human, and its head was bald, with deep lines in its forehead. Its dark eyes--usually sad and dumb on these creatures--were narrowed with focus. A single red rune was painted on its forehead.

Lurking behind it were two dark, wolf-like Goblins with tails and claws, their green eyes shining wickedly. They held back, standing on their crooked hind legs, just barely visible in the fog. The humanoid Goblin walked between the two great boulders and stood facing them in the road. It raised the staff menacingly.

"A Lord!" Taris whispered.

Cordus held forth his broadsword. The blade gleamed brightly--almost white--as if charged with pale energy.

"Stand aside," Cordus ordered the Goblin Lord. "You dare block the path of Divine Knights? We are on important business."

The Goblin snorted with laughter. A whisper curled out from it like icy fingers that seemed to creep over their flesh, causing chills. The horses shifted about uneasily, but held their ground. Lannon pressed closer to Taris. His heartbeat was pounding hard in his ears.

"I am simply a messenger sent to warn you," the Goblin Lord said. "Soon Dremlock Kingdom will fall. The ways of the past will no longer prevail against us. Leave Silverland while you still can."

Furlus drove his horse forward, scowling, but Cordus stopped him with a motion of his hand. "What is this nonsense you talk?" said Cordus. "Do you really think your words make any difference? Your fate is sealed in steel and blood. Silverland will soon be free of your evil."

"I do not fear you," the Goblin Lord hissed. "You cannot slay me. I alone seal your fate and that of Dremlock Kingdom. Give up, Lord Knight, while you still have the chance. There is no shame in it."

"Give up?" Cordus' blue eyes burned with fury. "Defend yourself, Goblin, for I now take your filthy head!" With that, Cordus' slapped his horse on the neck. The Greywind steadied itself, snorting, and then charged.

The two wolf-like creatures slipped away into the mist.

The Goblin Lord hurled its staff at Cordus. The twisted piece of wood smoldered with dark flames as it tumbled towards the Lord Knight.

Cordus cleaved the staff in two, causing it to explode in a shower of purple sparks and burning fragments, most of which glanced off Cordus' magnificent silver breastplate. Unharmed, Cordus calmly brushed coals from his beard. The Goblin turned to flee.

Cordus' gleaming blade lashed out and sliced off the Goblin Lord's head. The body slumped to the ground, the head rolling off into the mist.

"Let us ride swiftly from this place," said Cordus. "Do not look back, Lannon."

But as they started off, Lannon's curiosity got the best of him. He and Taris rode at the rear, with Cordus in the lead, and so he chanced a look behind him. Sprouting from the neck of the dead Goblin were dark tendrils. They slithered across the ground towards something in the fog. Quickly Lannon turned away, his face pale.

From out of the mist behind them came evil laughter.

***

"Why didn't they try to finish us off?" Taris asked, as the horses again slowed to a trot. "That entire affair seemed pointless."

"The Goblin Lord and his Wolves were sent to intimidate me," said Cordus. "If I falter, so will Dremlock Kingdom. That is what our enemies believe. We were expecting an attack, so they surprised us with a warning." He nodded toward Lannon. "If they knew the true nature of this mission, they would surely have thrown all their might against us. Obviously, some secrets remain hidden to our foes."

"But how did they know we were on the North Road?" said Taris.

"They watch us," said Cordus, "with methods we cannot yet imagine. From the moment we left Dremlock, they must have planned that encounter at the North Gate. They suspect we’re on a vital mission, the three Tower Masters riding alone from Dremlock when our kingdom is in peril. Yet what have they learned? Only that we ride with a boy."

Gazing into the fog, Taris said nothing

"We should not speak of this," said Cordus, "when the lad is with us. Lannon, you shall not mention a word of this to anyone. If you do, there may be grim consequences that even I cannot foresee. Being exiled from the kingdom would certainly be one of those consequences." The Lord Knight stared hard at Lannon, his eyes burning deep into the boy, demanding total obedience.

"I won't tell anyone," said Lannon, and he meant it with all his heart. Emotions swirled through his mind--terror over the future, awe of the Knightly power he had just witnessed, and a lingering gloom from the Goblin Lord's aura. He felt he could understand his father's illness better now, after what he had encountered in the Bloodlands. The darkness was real, and it was hungry--just like his father had said. He had felt the very surface of it, and underneath lay things he dared not try to imagine.

Lannon realized his father wasn't weak willed at all. He was a strong man to have stared into the very heart of darkness and still kept some measure of his sanity. Even after many years of existing inside him, clawing at his father's body and mind, the shadows had not yet consumed him.

As evening settled in, the Middle Bloodlands began to give way to hill country. The hills were huge, the road winding between them and sometimes creeping over them. The Iracus Trees surrendered to towering pines, which grew sparsely and were straight, tall, and noble compared to the twisted Goblin trees. The roots vanished from the trail (save for an occasional knotty pine root), and the stench slipped away, leaving only fresh air. The weather had cleared some, and from the hilltops they could see the Firepit Mountains beyond the forests, hills, and misty valleys.

Crumbling stone ruins stood on some of the hills. Most resembled the remains of keeps and fortresses, while others were little more than shapeless masses of rubble. "These are the Elder Lands," Cordus told Lannon. "Some of the most ancient kingdoms on our continent of Gallamerth existed here. The names and origins of many have been forgotten, for they were here before the Birlotes came--before the White Guardian itself came from the Great Light above Stormy Mountain to teach the races the ways of peace." Cordus pointed to ruins on a particularly tall hill. "Serenlock Castle lies there, Lannon. That is where we'll camp this night."

Lannon studied the ruins closely. They didn't look like they formed a castle--just a bunch of boulders in a big heap on the hilltop.

"Doesn't look like much from here, does it?" said Cordus. "But that castle was once the main rival of Dremlock Kingdom. King Ordamer Kessing of Bellis constructed it for the sole purpose of bringing down Dremlock. Obviously, it failed."

"A poor location compared to Dremlock," grunted Furlus.

"Yes," said Cordus, "But Serenlock was defended on all sides by a massive wall. When the castle fell, the wall was torn apart and the blocks moved to Dremlock to form parts of the West and North towers."

"Why did Dremlock allow Serenlock Castle to be built?" asked Lannon. "Why didn't the Knights just come over here and stop it?"

"A good question, Lannon," said Taris. "But we weren't at war with Bellis during that time. We knew why Serenlock was being built, but Dremlock refused to strike the first blow. Our nobility would not permit it."

They guided their horses up the great hill and into the ruins. The Greywinds, despite being sure-footed animals, slipped now and then and panted from the effort of climbing such a steep slope. Lannon clung tight to Taris, feeling like they were in danger of tumbling back down. Much of Serenlock Castle had collapsed on itself and sank into the hill, but some of it was still well preserved.

As they passed upward between the boulders, Lannon made out familiar shapes like parts of stairs, floors, and walls. Cordus seemed to know exactly where he was going, leading them around and even underneath great obstacles, until at last they emerged onto a wide slab on the hilltop. The slab must have been a courtroom floor or something of the like. Here, between four towering statues of Knights, they stopped to make camp, with open sky above them.

Cordus built a fire inside a circle of small stones between the four statues. The Knights gave their horses feed bags and then gathered around, unfolding blankets. Furlus had stashed away a leg of lamb from the Dead Goblin, and now he brought it forth to gnaw on, while Cordus smoked a pipe. As usual, Taris seemed to crave little beyond his required meals, which he had already eaten, and he sat motionless.

Cordus nodded towards the statues. "These represent the Four Lords of Serenlock Castle, Lannon."

The towering statues were made of marble, and depicted men bearing swords, axes, and heavy armor. They were crumbling and mossy, yet still vivid. One stood out from the others due to the insane look in his eyes. His wild hair flowed long, and in one hand he held an Olrog head, which he grasped by its beard. Somehow this was the most lifelike of the statues, and the sight of it made Lannon's heart race. The crazed eyes seemed to burn into his soul. Lannon could not look upon this statue for long. He turned away, wishing he had never set eyes on it but needing to know more about it.

Cordus smiled at him. "Each of these great Knights has a magnificent tale behind him. But the most intriguing of all--certainly the most tragic--is the story of Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight. You will learn much of the history of Dremlock, Silverland, and even our continent of Gallamerth as you advance into Knighthood."

"I want to know about Tenneth Bard right now," said Lannon. A deep sadness wrenched at his heart, underneath which lay a darkness spawned by something he dared not peer into.

Cordus frowned and shook his head. "Some things are better left untold, for the time being. I don't wish to burden you with too much knowledge until you are ready for it. This tale can wait until another time."

"Okay," said Lannon, getting under his quilt. He pulled it over his head, trying to block the statue from both eye and mind. For some reason, he needed to hear the story of Tenneth Bard, though he doubted it would offer him any comfort. Yet sometimes not knowing was the worst feeling of all.

An hour passed by. Cordus lay down to sleep, and soon started to snore. Furlus finished gnawing the meat from the bone and also lay down. Taris alone sat by the fire, and he beckoned Lannon over. "Come, I will tell a bit of the tale you've been waiting to hear. No harm will come of it."

Lannon eagerly left his blanket and sat down across from Taris.

"Tenneth Bard was once an exceptionally talented Knight of Dremlock," said Taris. "But he was expelled from the Order for violating the Sacred Laws. He became a pathetic drunkard, wasting his life away, until King Ordamer of Bellis called upon his services. He joined with the Knights of Serenlock in their attempt to destroy the Divine Order. But his former failure had changed him. He was no longer sane or stable. The darkness was in his heart, and drove him deeper and deeper into madness. When Serenlock was defeated, Tenneth Bard escaped and became a Black Knight--sworn to topple Dremlock."

"Why was Tenneth Bard expelled from Dremlock?" asked Lannon, hoping to avoid the same fate. The Sacred Laws sounded quite rigid.

"The sad thing is that it was all quite needless," said Taris. "Tenneth Bard made a mistake that he probably should not have been banished over. Yet time and again, great Knights have been cast from the Divine Order for petty violations of the Sacred Laws. And time and again, it has come back to haunt Dremlock."

"Was Tenneth Bard ever killed by anyone?" said Lannon.

"After Serenlock was defeated," said Taris, "Tenneth Bard formed a band of Black Knights called the Blood Legion. When the Divine Knights finally hunted down and broke up his clan--temporarily, mind you, for the Blood Legion exists to this day--he escaped into the Northern Bloodlands and was never seen again. Those are the most dangerous Bloodlands of all, filled with horrors that defy the imagination, and it has always been assumed that he perished out there."

"Why were these statues left standing?" said Lannon.

"As a tribute to our victory," said Taris, "and a warning to future plotters against Dremlock."

"I feel like the statue of Tenneth Bard is watching me," said Lannon. "He certainly does look insane." He folded his arms across his chest and shivered.

"I think there was something evil about Tenneth Bard," Taris said, "that went beyond his insanity. I believe he was in league with dark and powerful forces--perhaps the Deep Shadow itself, which is where all foul sorcery comes from. Even to this day, we may not fully realize what damage he did to Dremlock Kingdom."

Suddenly Lannon felt guilty. He glanced at Cordus, who was still snoring peacefully under his quilt. "Maybe I shouldn't know these things," he whispered. "Cordus thought I should wait to hear of it."

"These are histories you would learn regardless," said Taris. "You're not just a lad who happens to be traveling with us, Lannon. You are soon to be--officially--a Squire of Dremlock Kingdom, and as such, you will learn many things about the past. Now try to get some rest. We still have much traveling to do."

Lannon curled up in his blanket and tried to sleep. For half the night he lay awake, his heart troubled by things he could not understand, feeling Tenneth Bard's crazed eyes upon his soul. Finally he slipped into dark dreams of warfare and bloodlust. He felt the weight of centuries bearing down on him, a shifting tide of glorious victories and renowned men and women--but also of crushed dreams, failed honor, and fallen Knights. Shadows clashed amid the hills and mountains, while Goblins crept out from the gloom of the bloated Mothers to make war on life itself. The dreams lasted the entire night, and Lannon could not escape them until the grey dawn touched his eyelids.

***

The Knights seemed in good spirits the next day. As they rode through the Northern Hills, they talked of jolly things that Lannon listened to with interest for a while and then grew bored with. They spoke of battles past and humorous affairs, of failed Knights and talented ones, the state of the land (with no references to Goblins), and the relationships of the Birlotes, Noracks, and Olrogs. They also talked of things Lannon found boring, like trade and taxation and the value of money. Soon Lannon's mind began to stray from their conversations to thoughts of his folks, the journey, and what awaited him at Dremlock.

By afternoon they had reached the forest lands of Hethos, where trees stood reaching heights of two hundred feet or more and had trunks as wide as cabins. The clouds had broken this day, and the sun streamed down amid the furry pine branches, scattering mottled patches of light across the forest floor. The mist was clearing up. Hethos consisted of vast stretches of woodlands interrupted briefly now and then by farms, hill country, and grasslands.

They stayed the night in a little town called Fargun's Vale that was full of hunters and trappers. It was a rough place, but had a fancy inn called the Divine Alehouse, which was built exclusively for Knights and Rangers. Yet even in this thick-walled inn, which lay on the very edge of town, the travelers could hear brawls and shouts throughout the night.

The next morning, they set off with the shadows still thick about the forest. The wooded hills and valleys continued on, and the ride there was pleasant, the day's warmth held in check by cool breezes. The air was fresh and sweet in their lungs, and the forest was rich with animal life--a welcome change from Bloodlands. They took long breaks for lunch and dinner, resting on soft pine needles, and their spirits were high.

By late afternoon they had reached the muddy banks of the Sorgrot River, which flowed down from the Firepit Mountains. The Firepit range towered above them, stretching from east to west as far as they could see. The forest climbed high into the peaks, a carpet of green clinging to the mountainsides.

Lannon got his first glimpse of the great stone wall that protected Dremlock Kingdom, which sat on a plateau about a quarter of the way up Darkender Mountain (as the Knights called the great peak). Lannon could see a few buildings here and there on plateaus leading up to where Dremlock sat.

The travelers followed the road, winding upward alongside the river. The shadows of evening descended swiftly amid the pines and boulders, with blazing stars visible in the open spaces between the boughs. Wolves howled amongst the forests and rocky ledges, drawing threateningly close at times. The Greywinds snorted contemptuously at the wolf howls and trotted with their heads held high. These warhorses, seldom afraid of anything, were used to the wolves and did not fear them.

The Knights lit lanterns, and soon the shadows around their sphere of light became too thick to peer into. Yet still they followed the road on its steady climb upward into the mountains. Gradually the river curved away, the roar of rushing water growing ever fainter.

At last they reached a wooded plateau where a town called Hollow Deep sat, which consisted of several shops and a place called Knights Lore Inn. "We shall sleep here tonight," Cordus said. "And early tomorrow ride on to Dremlock."

Unlike the Dead Goblin Inn or the Alehouse in Fargun's Vale, the stay at Knights Lore Inn was a jolly affair. The folks inside greeted the travelers with laughter and cheers. They were given delicious food, baths, and the best rooms in the place. Immediately after Lannon's meal and bath, Cordus told him to go to bed while the Knights engaged in a bit of merrymaking downstairs. The lad was disappointed, for many strange characters inhabited this place--some who looked Knightly, as well as some Ranger types, and a few mysterious fellows who preferred to sit in the shadowy corners. The atmosphere was warm, pleasant, and exciting. A richly dressed Bard sang songs of Knightly battles and victories.

As Lannon lay down to sleep, he listened to the sounds below, wishing he were part of the merriment. Yet soon his thoughts turned to other matters. Dremlock Kingdom was close--somewhere up above him on the mountainside--and in the morning he would climb to that legendary place to begin his new life. He kept shifting about restlessly, certain he would stay awake all night and end up dead tired come morning. But the feather bed was agreeable with slumber, and the Bard's signing, faint and unintelligible though it was from there, helped him relax until he slipped into a deep sleep.