Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

"I have a voice in my head," said Thrake, "that whispers its will. My life has guidance now and a grand purpose. Oh, and I have the White Flamestone as well, which I will take to the Blood Legion." Thrake held up the pouch containing the gem, then tucked it into a pocket of his fur cloak. "But I hate you so much, Lannon, that I cannot leave without killing you."

Lannon had been in this situation before, but this time the sorcery that held him was too powerful to overcome. He simply couldn't connect to the Eye. The feeling of helplessness was maddening, the realization that he could only lay there and watch as Thrake finished him off.

"This will be a bitter end for you," said Thrake. He touched the burning blade to Lannon's throat, and Lannon's skin erupted with agony. "I don't know why I hate you so much. I hate you even more than that vile Birlote Shennen."

Suddenly, Thrake cried out and stiffened, the dagger pulling away from Lannon's throat. The point of a long, gleaming dagger-a Flayer — now jutted out of Thrake's chest. A face appeared over his shoulder in the light of the flames, pale and with cold, focused eyes. The shadows had come to life in the tent and struck Thrake from behind, piercing stout armor and the beating heart beneath. Lannon's savior, and Thrake's doom, was now revealed.

It was Shennen.

In spite of the blade in his heart, Thrake rose and whirled around, ripping the dagger from Shennen's hand in the process. He lashed out with clawed fingers and knocked Shennen out through the tent door. Then he turned back toward Lannon, the blade still protruding out of his chest.

But Lannon, who'd been released from Thrake's sorcery, was already on his feet, the Eye of Divinity surging forth. He cried out a warning to the camp, as loud as he could yell it, as he seized Thrake with the Eye. Thrake's resistance to Lannon's power was enormous, and for a moment he stood his ground, his claws reaching for Lannon's throat. Finally, Lannon managed to shove him out into the moonlight, where Knights were already rushing from their tents. Lannon stepped out after him. Four Knights lay unconscious in the snow, including Shennen-who had blood dripping from his head.

As the Knights closed in on Thrake, he hissed in hatred and drove at Lannon with his axe-even as a blazing arrow from an archer's bow lodged in his back. Lannon drew his Dragon sword and channeled the Eye into it on instinct, blocking a downward stroke from Thrake's huge axe. Without the power of the Eye, Thrake's axe would have smashed Lannon's blade aside with ease and brought Lannon to ruin. Instead, it glanced away in a shower of sparks.

Lannon hesitated, wondering how he might take the giant prisoner. But the Divine Knights had other ideas, and their blazing weapons tore into Thrake, bringing him to his knees. He hissed and bellowed, steam emerging from his nostrils. Then at last he slumped to the snow in death.

Taris Warhawk had emerged from his tent, and he stood gazing at Lannon with a look of sorrow on his face. "Are the other Squires okay?"

"I think they're only asleep," said Lannon, his breath frosty in the night air. He gazed down at Thrake's body, overwhelmed with shock. He wondered how Jerret was going to react when he discovered the truth about Thrake. Lannon found himself enraged at the Deep Shadow for corrupting such a great Knight, and he vowed to make Tharnin pay for what it had done.

Taris sent a healer into the tent to check on the Squires, while another healer examined Shennen and the other unconscious Knights.

Shennen awoke with a groan. He pushed the healer's probing hand aside and rose, wiping blood from his head. "I suspected it was Thrake all along," he said to Taris, "after I caught him visiting the Dragon bones in Dorok's Hand. But I couldn't prove it. I allowed others to think it was me who was the assassin, in order to let Thrake gain false confidence."

"I never thought you were the assassin," said Taris. "But I didn't believe Thrake was, either. I admit I was completely fooled."

Lannon was astonished that Thrake had somehow been able to deceive Taris. It seemed impossible. But Lannon reminded himself that even Taris was mortal and couldn't see the truth in everything.

"I didn't want to believe it either," said Shennen. "But it is the way of things. We have lost a great Knight to the Deep Shadow."

The healer emerged from the tent and informed Taris that the Squires were in a heavy sleep but not injured.

"And the White Flamestone?" asked Taris.

Shennen searched Thrake and then held up the black pouch. "Still in our possession."

"This could have been a disaster," said Taris, shaking his head. "Had Lannon been assassinated and the Flamestone taken…"

"Indeed," said Shennen. "I didn't know Thrake was capable of putting three of our best Knights to sleep with such ease-that he'd been granted such power by the Deep Shadow. It seems it was instinct alone that caused me to awaken and leave my tent. When I saw the three guards lying in the snow, I feared the worst. The other Knights, who were supposed to check on Thrake, must have never left their tents. I assume we will find them under the influence of his sorcery, sound asleep. It pains me to say this, but Thrake nearly succeeded in his plan."

"But he didn't," said Taris, "because of you, my friend. I know it hurt you deeply to be accused by rumor of being the assassin."

Shennen bowed his head. "It did, and it also made me angry. But now that the truth is revealed, I only feel empty inside. I've lost a good friend, and Dremlock has lost one its best warriors. This is a sad night for us all."

"Then Thrake obviously lost the duel on purpose," said Taris, with a sour expression. "I should have listened to you, Shennen."

Shennen shrugged. "You had every right to trust Thrake. His heart seemed incorruptible. Yet when I saw him slip during the duel, I could tell it was intentional. That left no doubt in my mind that he was our enemy."

Trenton approached them, looking frustrated. "I knew we should never have accepted that contest. My instincts warned me against it. But how could we have known Thrake was a traitor?"

"We likely could not have known," said Jace, as he stepped from his tent and stretched his long arms. He yawned. "A Dragon Knight is able to conceal itself quite well-though Lannon might have been able to see the truth had he been looking for it. We are quite lucky that Shennen was alert to Thrake's schemes. Had Thrake escaped this camp, he would have grown into an extremely powerful adversary and Dremlock would have paid dearly for its ignorance."

Shennen sighed. "You were right about the Dragon bones, Jace. I suspected it early on, but didn't want to admit it to myself. In a way, I believe the bones are influencing me too-as I still long to study them even after this incident. However, I still have full control over my actions."

"You proved that by saving my life," said Lannon, bowing to the Blue Knight. "Had it not been for you, I would be dead by now."

Taris' hands knotted into fists, his usual calm demeanor shattered. "The duel was unfair and shall not be honored. I will send a messenger to inform the Blood Legion that Tharnin's puppet has met his doom. Then we ride forth at dawn!"

Taris called a meeting in the camp. Tired, somber Knights gathered in a circle around the sorcerer in the moonlight. Taris stood next to Thrake's body, his face lost in shadow beneath the hood of his cloak. Lannon's fellow Squires were still asleep thanks to Thrake's sorcery, and Jace had slipped back into his tent. Lannon realized Jace had been rather quiet lately, but as a member of the Divine Shield, Jace should have been present for the meeting.

"A great Knight has fallen to the will of the Deep Shadow," said Taris. "This is a reminder that no one is immune to the corruption of Tharnin. It is foolish and arrogant to believe otherwise. We must hold a funeral immediately and burn Thrake's remains, as they could still be infested with dark sorcery."