Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

Jerret's face darkened and his hand settled on the hilt of his broadsword. "You might have lost the Hand of Tharnin, but you're still just a mindless puppet. I have nothing to say to you!" With that, Jerret strode from the room.

"Good riddance!" said Vorden. "What a pathetic excuse for a Squire. It annoys me to no end that he is still alive."

"We're waiting for your answer, Vorden," said Aldreya

Vorden yawned. "Did I just hear another Birlote speak? I'm not saying anything with you foul Tree Dwellers at my beside. I'll tell Lannon-provided the rest of you leave. And take that ugly Dwarf with you, too. The wretched thing about female Grey Dwarves is that they don't have beards to hide their ugliness."

Galvia's lips tightened, and her meaty hand knotted into a fist as her Dwarven temper surged. But she didn't respond to the insult.

"The only ugliness I see," said Lothrin, "comes from your spirit, Vorden."

"Silence, Birlote scum!" Vorden shouted.

Lannon turned to Shennen. "If you don't mind, I would like to speak to Vorden alone. I don't sense any danger." The Eye revealed that Vorden was still formidable in spite of losing his demonic gauntlet-charged with dark sorcery. But Vorden's chains were stout and he was no match for Lannon's power.

Shennen nodded, and motioned the others to follow him from the chamber, leaving Lannon alone with Vorden's hatred.

"Well?" said Lannon.

"Are you really that stupid?" Vorden shook his head in disbelief. "Tenneth Bard was creating a huge distraction, so Dremlock would not be focused on the growing threat of Bellis. And it worked to perfection. Even as Bellis was advancing to the very edge of Silverland, the Divine Knights were waging war against the Blood Legion and the Goblins. The Goblin Lords, the Hand of Tharnin, the Great Dragon-anything we could think of to throw at Dremlock. It kept you fools busy."

"Then Tenneth Bard sacrificed his life for Tharnin?" asked Lannon. It didn't seem in character for the Black Knight to do something that unselfish, but Lannon wasn't certain what the sorcerer's motivations were. Lannon's encounters with Tenneth Bard had been brief and Lannon still knew very little about him.

"Not at all," said Vorden. "Tenneth Bard wasn't killed in your attack. He can't die like that. He is too old and too powerful. You caught him off guard and stunned him, but rest assured he is alive and well. And he will return. He doesn't need a portal to come back. He can pass between worlds at will."

"I don't believe it," said Lannon, though he doubted his own words. "I saw him fall from the ledge. And if he's so powerful, why didn't he kill me when he had the chance?"

"He spared you," said Vorden, "because he was trying to recruit you-just like he did the Dark Watchmen of old. Those who possess the Eye of Divinity make excellent servants of the Deep Shadow. He only wanted you to think he was trying to kill you. His goal was to subdue you and make you a slave."

Lannon couldn't deny that Vorden's words were believable. "Yet he must know by now that can never happen."

"It doesn't matter," said Vorden. "You were only of minor importance in the grand scheme of things. Tenneth Bard accomplished his goal, and he will return to savor his victory. He will gloat over your grave, Lannon."

"But what of the White Flamestone?" asked Lannon. "Surely Tenneth Bard never foresaw that device entering the war."

"It was an unpleasant surprise," said Vorden. "But we knew it was a sign that your god had become quite desperate. After all, how desperate does a god have to be to surrender a very dangerous piece of itself to petty mortals? The Divine Essence knows Dremlock has little chance of survival. And if Dremlock falls, the Divine Essence is doomed. It might be a god, but it is young and vulnerable. It can be destroyed." Vorden's eyes shone with gleeful malice.

Vorden's words invoked a strong desire within Lannon to protect the Divine Essence. The thought of Dremlock's god and king perishing seemed unbearable, and he vowed to himself that it would never happen.

"It will happen," said Vorden, as if reading his thoughts.

"What else can you tell me?" asked Lannon.

Vorden sighed. "I'm tired of talking. And I've healed up just fine, so there is no need for me to remain in this bed. I know I'm going to be locked in the dungeon eventually and forgotten, so I might as well get to it."

"You won't be forgotten," said Lannon.

Vorden rolled his eyes. "Does that mean you're going to come torment me every day with your useless talk? I think I'd rather face the torture rack-which I'm sure is on Dremlock's agenda. After all, they need to probe me for information."

"The Sacred Laws don't allow it," said Lannon.

Vorden laughed. "You're so naive. They can get around the Sacred Laws by getting someone else to do the torturing. You think Dremlock is so pure and righteous, but it's no better than the Blood Legion. When people are desperate, anything goes."

"I don't know about that," said Lannon. "But Dremlock is preventing the Deep Shadow from infesting all of Gallamerth. Maybe we aren't perfect, and maybe the Sacred Laws do get twisted or ignored, but what else is there?"

"The Birlotes and Olrogs," Vorden answered, shrugging. "But everything else belongs to Bellis. And that's why Tharnin is destined to win this war. Dremlock hid away in Silverland for too long, refusing to get involved in the affairs of the outside lands-and that policy allowed Bellis to become a monstrosity. The Birlotes and Olrogs hid themselves as well, in forest and mountain. Fools."

"Should we have spread out and stretched ourselves thin?" said Lannon. "Only a select few can be Divine Knights. And we do what the Divine Essence orders us to do. And it obviously ordered us to stay in Silverland and fight the Legion and the Bloodlands."

"It doesn't matter now," said Vorden. "It's too late."

"I refuse to believe that," said Lannon.

"Of course," said Vorden. "You never face up to reality. You live in a dream world where there is always hope. It's sad and pathetic. Now as I said, I'm tired of talking. So go away and leave me to my fate."

"Rest up," said Lannon, and he turned away.

"People better watch themselves around me," said Vorden.

Lannon hesitated, then turned around. Vorden's face was twisted into an expression of pure evil.

"That's right," said Vorden. "I'm a vile monster. And my body has been altered forever by the Hand of Tharnin. I have the strength of a Troll. If I get a chance, I'll kill anyone who comes near me. I can't wait!"

"You're not a monster," said Lannon. "You just need to get better."

Vorden groaned. "You idiot! This is not some injury or disease! This is who I am! Why can't you understand that?"

"Because I've seen it before," said Lannon, "to a lesser degree. In my father. He is a good man beneath his illness, and a strong man. He never let the darkness claim him. You're strong too, Vorden-one of the strongest people I know."

"Goodbye," said Vorden. "I hope to never see you again. And please don't compare me to that pathetic old drunk."

"Goodbye, my friend," said Lannon, and he walked away with a heavy heart. He'd been hoping to see some flicker of change in Vorden, but he'd glimpsed nothing but evil. He almost wished Vorden had died in the duel.

Outside the Chamber of Healing, Taris Warhawk approached Aldreya and motioned her to follow him. Aldreya could sense Taris had something important to reveal. The two of them walked alone down a tunnel and then passed through a long room filled with beds, trunks, and weapon racks. An iron door led to five chambers that served as the fortress Command Quarters.

Taris led Aldreya into his chamber-which was bathed in crimson from a single Birlote torch and smelled of incense. A pair of wooden stools accompanied a small, round table upon which green candles stood. Taris sat down and motioned her to sit across from him. Aldreya did so, and studied the room. In spite of being such an elite sorcerer, Taris possessed a simplistic chamber. Aside from a few basic necessities, it contained a narrow bed, two oak chests engraved with Birlote runes, and a dresser atop which sat some scrolls and an incense holder made from a Vulture's skull.