Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

"Why aren't the Legion forces trying to fight their way out?" asked Shennen. "With the Hand of Tharnin on their side, surely they would have a chance of breaking through Dremlock's defenses and escaping. I'm surprised they haven't simply killed the hostages and tried to flee."

"The message did not make that clear," said Trenton. "My guess is that they fear being impaled by lances. Or they may intend to make demands and use the hostages as leverage. But one thing is certain-the Hand of Tharnin must not be allowed to leave Dorok's Hand, hostages or not."

"Agreed," said Shennen.

Lannon felt extremely restless. He sensed that somehow he must face Vorden once again-that his former friend would demand it and would want it to be a fight to the death. He didn't reveal his feelings to the others, though they could tell he was anxious and commented on it.

"Are you okay?" Aldreya asked.

Lannon nodded. "Just worried about everything."

"As am I," said Aldreya. "Things are going so badly for Dremlock. Bellis, the Black Flamestone-and now the Hand of Tharnin again."

"Those threats can be overcome," said Vannas, but he looked uncertain.

"It's actually good that Vorden has returned," said Lothrin. "We were going to have to deal with him sooner or later. Better to get it over with. And even if he ends up dead, that's better than living as a slave to evil."

"I agree," said Lannon, with a sigh. He hated the thought of Vorden dying, but he knew he needed to accept the fact that it would be for the better.

As they started off again, Galvia groaned and almost fell off her horse. Jerret rode close to her and helped steady her.

"I'm not healing well," Galvia explained.

"You're not allowing yourself to heal," said Aldreya. "You're punishing yourself, Galvia, and it must stop!"

Galvia's face reddened with embarrassment, but she didn't deny Aldreya's words. She rode with her head bowed.

"Aldreya is right," said Jerret, his eyes wide with concern. "You should be healed by now. Have you even been meditating on your wounds?"

Galvia shrugged. "Some."

"It's time to get over this," said Jerret, frustration in his voice "and move on. You wanted to be a Squire and eventually a Knight. But you're not acting like it."

Galvia glanced at Jerret, then nodded. "I know. I will try to do better. When we camp tonight, I'll focus on healing."

"Why wait?" said Jerret. "You should get to it now."

"I'm not in the mood for healing right now," said Galvia. "Maybe later."

Jerret looked away, sighing.

Daledus, who'd been riding with his head bowed since his defeat in the duel, suddenly came to life and fixed a smoldering gaze on Galvia. "Jerret is right. You've moped around enough about your little failure in battle. Well, I lost the duel for the Black Flamestone, and I have every intention of righting that wrong and continuing to serve Dremlock as best I can. You won't hear me whining about it."

Galvia returned his gaze. "I'm not whining. It's just…"

"Didn't say you were!" Daledus growled. "But you're acting like a thin-skinned weakling and not a Squire of Dremlock. And you're certainly not behaving like a Grey Dwarf. Is that all you're made of? Maybe you weren't really meant to serve Dremlock."

"That's a bit harsh, Daledus," Jerret protested.

Lannon also thought Daledus was being too harsh with her, but he said nothing, knowing Daledus was undoubtedly in a terrible mood.

"No, that's not all I'm made of!" Galvia snarled back, her eyes suddenly flashing with anger. "And I was meant to serve or I wouldn't be here!" She was suddenly trembling with anger, and looked like she wanted to knock Daledus off his horse.

"Good!" Daledus roared. The Dwarf turned away and fell silent.

Galvia continued to glare at him, but now she sat taller in the saddle. She still winced with pain, but she seemed suddenly very focused.

The rest of the journey back to Dorok's Hand was uneventful. Taris and Flund continued to make steady progress, and soon Flund could speak again, the wound in his throat fully healed. Taris still struggled with memory problems, however, as well as problems with movement, balance, and vision, but he was able to ride his horse and give commands. Galvia also recovered during the journey, and her spirit seemed invigorated, the memory of her battle woes in Elder Oak at last put behind her. She took to practicing her skills when they made camp.

By the time they reached Dorok's Hand, the snow was melting even in the mountains. They proceeded cautiously into the peaks, anticipating an ambush from the Blood Legion, but they rode all the way to the fortress gates without encountering any trouble. They found that Furlus and his Knights had taken back the upper areas of the fortress, and that the gates were once again sealed and guarded.

It was late afternoon, and the sky was streaked with red from the setting sun, when the Divine Shield and the others reached the fortress. It had been a warm day, but now a cold wind blew through the mountain peaks. The guards cheered at the sight of them, and then hurriedly pulled open the massive wooden gates and led their horses into the stables.

Lannon glanced up at the towering statue of Dorok and shuddered. The statue looked sinister, reminding Lannon that evil had returned to the fortress. The Hand of Tharnin waited for them within-the device that had claimed the soul of Lannon's best friend and had raised a Great Dragon against Dremlock.

"This time, we're going to finish off Vorden," said Jerret, nodding to himself. "No more escapes for that servant of Tharnin. Right, Lannon?"

"Vorden will not leave Dorok's Hand alive," said Vannas.

"Few have ever returned from the prison of the Deep Shadow," said Lothrin. "It seems death is the only answer for most."

"The Vorden we knew is already gone," said Aldreya. "All that remains is a monster bent on Dremlock's destruction."

Galvia voiced her agreement.

Jerret gazed at Lannon, waiting for a response, but Lannon didn't look at him and didn't reply. Lannon had no idea what would happen, but his goal was to take Vorden prisoner if possible. He was probably alone in that goal-as everyone around him seemed determined to see Vorden dead, believing it was for the better. But try as he might, Lannon couldn't quite bring himself to adopt that way of thinking. He couldn't abandon all hope that his friend might somehow be saved from the clutches of the Deep Shadow.

As Timlin Woodmaster and his Legion warriors approached the gates of Old Hammer Hall, there was a strong feeling in the air that something was amiss. The fortress, which was carved into the mountain like Dorok's Hand, appeared normal-with the huge stone drawbridge raised above a deep trench that ran in front of the keep. The two guard towers-also carved from the mountain-were occupied by twenty archers. Two Ogres wearing fur and leather and armed with wooden hammers stood to the right and left of the drawbridge.

Old Hammer Hall was clearly still occupied by the Blood Legion, yet Timlin knew instinctively that the mood was grim. The guards did not cheer as the riders approached. In fact, they didn't even smile.

After the drawbridge was lowered by thick chains, a member of the Legion Council-a Birlote sorcerer named Ethella-strode out to greet them. She was a tall women who was always accompanied by two Goblin Lords. She wore a black robe adorned with red Legion symbols, and she held a crystal staff into which demonic faces had been carved. Her silver hair was bound with black ribbons and set high, and her beautiful face was painted white in imitation of the Tharnin Lords. Ethella was a priestess of Tharnin and was greatly feared and despised by the Legion Soldiers who were less heavily influenced by the Deep Shadow. They thought of her as a cold-hearted monster.