Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

Timlin, however, liked Ethella and had found her to be his strongest supporter outside of Ulmason Deathhand. Typically she greeted Timlin with a warm smile, but as she approached, her expression was somber.

"What's wrong?" Timlin asked, as he swung down from his horse. He motioned everyone to hold back so he could talk to her privately.

Ethella leaned close to him. "Bellis is here, my lord."

Timlin stood in silence for a moment, his hand inside his cloak and clutching the Black Flamestone in a fierce grip. "They sent a Knight?"

Ethella shook her head. "They sent Omharal and two Guardians. They wish to meet with you at once."

"Omharal?" Timlin groaned. The High Wizard of Bellis was one of the most terrifying figures in all the land. He was an alchemist who drew his power from powders and potions. But Omharal wasn't just an alchemist-he was also a deadly assassin. He'd killed enemies of Bellis simply by having messages delivered to them that were coated in invisible poison that was absorbed through the skin. He'd poisoned the wells of villagers for refusal to pay taxes, resulting in widespread illness and death. Certain people he disliked had simply dropped dead in his presence, with no proof of his involvement uncovered.

"It is my belief," said Ethella, "that Omharal has come to claim the Black Flamestone for Bellis. If so, my lord, we must obey. We cannot defy the will of Tharnin. And Bellis could help us at last win this war…after all these centuries of bloodshed. There is too much at stake to refuse them."

"I would never defy Tharnin," said Timlin, but it was a lie. "Why would you think otherwise? I have been nothing but loyal to Tharnin."

Ethella didn't answer, but simply gazed at him.

Timlin knew she wasn't fooled. Somehow, she could sense his intent. "Does Bellis know we have possession of the Flamestone?"

"Yes," said Ethella. "After you sent your last message, I was forced to pass the information along to Omharal. However, he didn't indicate what his intent was or why he wishes to speak to you. He has been waiting in Old Hammer Hall for days, making all of us uncomfortable. I will be glad to see him leave."

"So maybe he doesn't plan to take the stone," said Timlin, though he knew it was unlikely. "Maybe he simply wishes to discuss the status of our alliance."

"It doesn't matter," said Ethella. "Tharnin has already spoken. You, Timlin, must bow before King Verlamer."

Timlin nodded, but he silently cursed Tharnin. "I'll meet with him immediately and we can find out where we stand."

"Who carries the Flamestone?" asked Ethella.

Timlin hesitated, annoyed at her question. "I have it."

Her eyes widened. "You, and not our priests?"

"Yes, me," said Timlin. "Now go and arrange a meeting in the Dining Hall and make sure food and drink are on hand. Our strongest wine and ale."

Ethella bowed. "Of course. And welcome back, my lord."

Timlin forced a smile. "Pleased to be back." But he wasn't pleased at all. He realized he should have escaped into the wilderness with the Black Flamestone in the dead of night. He'd strongly considered it each evening when they were camped, but hadn't quite been able to bring himself to do it. Now he was caught in a difficult position, with bloodshed the likely result.

The company proceeded on foot into Dorok's Hand, with Taris in the lead. The Tower Master, whose head wound was still bandaged, walked slowly and seemed to be partially dragging his left foot. Following Taris was the rest of the Divine Shield. The fortress had a strange, smoky scent to it-perhaps left over from the toxic vapor the Blood Legion had used to drive out Dremlock's warriors. Grim-faced Knights lined the entrance hall on either side, weapons drawn. Furlus Goblincrusher approached them and nodded to Taris.

Lannon was glad to see Furlus again, for the Dwarf always inspired confidence with his unyielding attitude.

"Welcome back," Furlus said gruffly, though concern was in his gaze as he studied Taris in the torchlight. The Grey Dwarf looked weary, and his cheek bore wounds that resembled claw marks-as if he'd recently tangled with a Jackal. His heavy plate armor displayed a gash in the chest area. His hair and beard looked unkempt, and his face was streaked with dirt.

"I can't say it is good to be back," said Taris, with a wry smile. "I assume you received our latest message?"

"I did," said Furlus. "How are you feeling, old friend? I hope that Specter knocked some sense into you."

Taris grinned. "Not likely."

"Why don't you rest up a bit," said Furlus, "and have some food. Then we can discuss the situation with the hostages."

Taris seemed lost in thought for a moment, his brow furrowed-as if he were struggling to remember something. At last he said, "I prefer to get on with important business. The hostages shouldn't be made to wait."

"Nonsense!" said Furlus. "The situation is under control. The hostages are being fed and cared for. No need to rush into anything."

"We should rest and eat," said Shennen, to Taris. "We're all weary from riding and in need of fresh clothes and good food."

"Agreed," said Trenton. "We can make plans after dinner. It would be unwise to take action without careful planning."

Taris looked uncertain. For a moment he seemed confused. He adjusted the bandages on his head and smoothed out his cloak, while the others waited for his reply. Then he nodded.

The Knights and Squires were allowed to wash and change clothes, before having dinner in the Dining Hall. The wide variety of delicious foods was a welcome change from their travel rations. After everyone had eaten their fill, the Divine Shield gathered at one of the tables to discuss the situation.

"The Blood Legion's demands are simple," said Furlus. "Vorden wishes to meet Lannon in combat. If Lannon wins, the Legion Soldiers surrender and the hostages go free. If Lannon loses, the Hand of Tharnin and the Soldiers are allowed to leave Dorok's Hand, and the hostages are released."

The news was not unexpected to Lannon. He knew Vorden would stop at nothing to destroy him. If Vorden could kill Lannon and escape from the fortress with the Hand of Tharnin, it would be a great victory for the Blood Legion. But as much as Lannon feared the Hand of Tharnin, he was willing to risk his life to try to take Vorden prisoner.

"So another duel?" said Trenton, with a grimace. "Dremlock's duels have not been productive lately."

"And whose fault is that?" said Taris, in a shaky voice. "I chose Flund Greenhelm, not Daledus."

Daledus' face reddened in humiliation. He took a quick swig of ale.

Trenton shrugged. "Flund was injured. Who should I have chosen, then?"

"Someone experienced," said Shennen, glaring at the Investigator.

"Let us focus on the current issue," said Furlus, "and not worry about past failures. Is anyone opposed to Lannon engaging in this fight?"

"I am opposed," said Prince Vannas. "I suggest we storm the chamber the Legion is occupying and kill all of them. Enough with the duels! Dremlock has trained me extensively to use this Flamestone, so what are we waiting for? I will turn Vorden and his precious Hand of Tharnin into ash."

"Agreed!" growled Daledus. "Divine Knights do not bargain with cowards who take hostages. We should end this with bloodshed!"

"I strongly disagree," said Jace, who'd cleaned two platters of food and was still nibbling on some cheese. "On the contrary, this is the perfect time for a duel. Lannon can defeat Vorden, and Dremlock can claim the Hand of Tharnin and either destroy it or lock it away somewhere. Otherwise, we risk many deaths and the possibility of Vorden escaping."

"But if Vorden wins the duel," said Taris, "then we will be forced to let him walk out of Dorok's Hand. We have lost two duels in a row." He rubbed his forehead, again looking confused. "I believe it has been two in a row, anyway. Dare we risk losing a third?"