Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

"Only another Flamestone," Taris replied. "There are more of them out there, scattered throughout the land. When the White Guardian was shattered, the pieces of the god child were hurled far and wide."

"But they can't be just wielded by anyone, right?" said Lannon.

Taris nodded. "But those who can wield them have always sought them out, and some are the servants of Tharnin."

"But why would a servant of Tharnin attack a Blood Legion fortress?" asked Lannon. "Aren't they all fighting for the same cause?"

"That's an excellent question," said Taris. "Perplexing, isn't it? Perhaps you can give us the answer. But beware, for I suspect there is a traitor lurking about. He might be the assassin, or he might be someone else."

"Do you think it's Shennen?" Lannon whispered, glancing about nervously. The other Squires were busy with their training.

"I don't know who it is," said Taris. "It could be anyone. I understand your concerns about Shennen, but without evidence we cannot make accusations or remove him from the Divine Shield. It is not our way. Dremlock considers its Knights innocent until proven guilty. However, that doesn't mean we shouldn't be cautious when we have suspicions."

Lannon nodded, knowing Taris spoke true.

"We ride south at dawn," said Taris, "and the assassin and traitor may be riding with us. In fact, I believe there is a strong chance of it."

And Taris would say no more on that subject.

Lannon, his friends, and a company of Knights rode out through the huge wooden gates of Dorok's Hand on a cold spring morning. The light of dawn was just beginning to creep over the mountains, and heavy shadows still hung over the snows. A few torches were lit, revealing tired, sullen faces.

All the members of the Divine Shield were present except Furlus Goblincrusher, who remained at Dorok's Hand to guard the fortress in case of a Blood Legion attack. Aside from the six Squires and Saranna the Ranger (and her wolf), there were fifty Knights on horseback-a mix of Red, Blue, Brown, Grey, and White, and five elite Birlote archers on loan from Borenthia. The Squires rode in a tight formation, guarded by Thrake, Shennen, Jace, Trenton, and Taris, who were themselves surrounded by a wall of heavily armored Red Knights. They brought Olrog sleds that were laden with supplies and could easily be converted into small wagons.

The freezing air stung Lannon's face, and he sat slouched in the saddle, barely able to stay awake. He'd slept poorly the night before, filled with too much anticipation over beginning the journey. Yet his desire to get out from under the oppressive gloom of the mountain was diminished on this sullen morning, and he found himself longing for his bed and a warm quilt.

"It's a bit early for traveling," Jace muttered, "when the sun hasn't yet warmed the face of the mountain. Too cold even to smoke my pipe."

"It's a perfect day," said Thrake Wolfaxe, as he stroked his bushy bread. "See, if you had some hair on your chin, Jace, you might not be so vulnerable to the cold. You should consider avoiding the razor for a while."

Jace gave him a sullen glance. "Perhaps, but right now a warm bed and some pleasant dreams are what would repair my mood."

"A beard like this might make a man out of you," Thrake went on.

"Or make a nest for lice," said Jace, waving dismissively.

That statement brought on laughter from all around.

"The beard does not make the man," said Taris, chuckling, "though if Furlus were here he would certainly dispute that statement. And by the way, Thrake, your beard will soon match Furlus' in width and length. That's sure to irritate him, so you better watch your back. If you're lucky, he may only sneak up on you in your sleep and clip some off."

Thrake grinned. "He might indeed. I'm sure he wouldn't like the fact that a Norack like me has a beard to rival a Grey Dwarf's."

"Keep your voices down," Shennen muttered. "Unless you want us to be heard all over the mountain and on the plains below."

"Yes," said Trenton, his expression sour "everyone be silent, please! I can't stand good-natured conversation this early-when I haven't even had a sip of hot tea and the frost stings my nose. Let us just ride and be miserable."

"No misery here," Thrake said. "I couldn't be more happy to be free of Dorok's Hand and out in the fresh air."

"Agreed," said Taris. "It would please me greatly never to have to see Dorok's Hand again. And speaking of Furlus, I'm sure he loves that wretched cave. It's not surprising he chose to remain behind."

"I wish I could have remained with Furlus," said Trenton, "wretched cave or not. "My duty was to find the assassin. I feel I'm neglecting it."

"You'll have plenty of mysteries to investigate," said Taris, "on this journey. You, Jace, Saranna, and Lannon, that is."

"I don't work with Squires and outsiders," said Trenton.

"This time, you will," said Taris. "When Squires and outsiders have valuable skills, a good Investigator makes use of them."

"Very well," Trenton said, giving a big sigh. "If you order it done, it will be done. Personally, I don't feel I need any help. I've served Dremlock well for years on my own. But you have spoken, and I obey. Strange that you bring this up now, though, when the journey is already underway."

"Are you going to lower your voices?" said Shennen, "or should we just start shouting to our enemies to start setting ambushes?"

No one answered.

The journey down the mountain was slow, as the horses worked their way through deep snowdrifts. As the day wore on and they were riding past some huge, twisted pines with boughs laden with snow, the weather warmed some and a thick fog settled around them. The fog was so dense and appeared so suddenly it put the Knights on edge, and they halted travel to discuss the issue.

"I sense the work of Tharnin," said Shennen, drawing his blade. "This fog feels foul against the skin and bears a faint stench like the Bloodlands."

"I smell nothing but pines and fresh air," said Thrake. "I think it's just some dense fog, not unusual in the mountains this time of year."

"This mist is definitely not natural," said Taris. "It is some weapon of Tharnin, meant to blind and confuse us. An attack is sure to come. Be on guard and protect the Squires. Protect the White Flamestone at all costs!"

"How can we see to protect anything?" Trenton snarled. "We've blundered into this like a pack of fools."

Lannon could barely see anyone around him, even though they sat on horseback just a few feet away. The fog clung to his skin and made his flesh crawl. The air had warmed considerably, and moisture was beaded on his face.

The Eye of Divinity revealed the fog as a living creature-like some kind of Goblin that had a shifting, vaporous form. It had been spawned deep within the Bloodlands, a rare creature that had taken decades to reach maturity. The Blood Legion had modified it somehow with dark sorcery-giving it the will to attack and confuse the Divine Knights. But Lannon's gaze pierced it and glimpsed a large pack of Goblin Wolves charging through the snow. He yelled a warning and pulled the Eye into a shield around him-while still leaving himself with a small field of magical vision. He drew his Dragon sword.

Grinning, Jerret yanked his broadsword from its sheath. The blade-made of stout Glaetherin, a material that was very suitable for channeling sorcery-shimmered with crimson fire. "Just tell me where to swing, Lannon!"

Aldreya drew her dagger, her green eyes darting about as she sought to glimpse enemies in the mist. She rode alongside Galvia, whose war hammer was glowing so hot it looked like it had just come from the forge.

Vannas held forth the White Flamestone, and its light seemed to push back the fog a bit-but visibility barely increased.