Robert Keller - The Heart of Shadows

"Two Knights were found dead," said Jerret Dragonsbane, his handsome face grim in the torchlight that partially lit the stone tunnel. "Jace thinks they were assassinated with evil sorcery." But Jerret's grim expression was fake and couldn't disguise a hint of excitement that revealed his growing love of battle and bloodshed. His hand was clamped around the hilt of his broadsword.

Jerret and Lannon Sunshield stood in one of the many underground passageways of the fortress of Dorok's Hand. Thick, rune-covered pillars, encircled by crimson vines that needed no water or sunlight, lined the tunnel. As usual, it was freezing cold and both Squires were wrapped in fur cloaks. Jerret overshadowed Lannon in size. The two Squires looked alike-with fair skin and unkempt blond hair-except that Jerret had put on more muscle than Lannon during his time as a Squire. Thanks to extensive training from Thrake Wolfaxe, Jerret had become a hulking brute while Lannon retained his lean form.

Lannon sighed and leaned wearily against the tunnel wall, his dreams of a peaceful winter shattered by Jerret's bad news. If an assassin was on the loose, Lannon was sure to be one of the prime targets. The Eye of Divinity would never let him rest, as the children of the Deep Shadow hunted him relentlessly. Once again he wished he were back at Dremlock Kingdom and far away from this ancient and dreary mountain keep.

Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight and sorcerer, was apparently dead-killed by Lannon's unpredictable power. And Vorden Flameblade was locked away forever in some pit of Tharnin. Yet Vorden's influence remained. Lannon's nightmares were filled with images of the Hand of Tharnin bursting forth from the earth to latch onto his throat and of yellow eyes smoldering in the shadows. Timlin Woodmaster was still firmly under that influence, plotting Dremlock's demise. Lannon suspected Timlin was behind this latest attack.

"Looks like this fortress is no longer safe," said Jerret, partially drawing his blade, "which probably means you'll end up guarded day and night again." The muscular, blond-haired Squire glanced nervously along the tunnel. "And my instincts tell me you should welcome it."

Lannon nodded. While the Divine Shield that had protected Lannon and Prince Vannas of the Birlotes had not officially been dissolved, Lannon and his fellow Squires had been given plenty of freedom to move about unguarded in the fortress. Lannon had been walking alone through the tunnels-on his way to the Dining Hall for lunch-before encountering Jerret.

"A dead Jackal Goblin was also found," Jerret went on. "It was killed in the same manner as the two Knights. The Jackal was a prisoner being led to the lower dungeons for study-when the trio was ambushed. Taris wants you to examine the Jackal's body and learn how it was slain."

Lannon's mood lightened some at the mention of Taris Warhawk. "Taris is here, in Dorok's Hand? When did he arrive?"

"A few hours ago," said Jerret. "He came with a small company of Knights. I've heard he looks to be in great health."

Lannon was eager to see Taris, but the news of the slain Knights kept his spirits low. "I wonder why Taris came here."

Jerret didn't answer. He yanked his sword free of its sheath. "I'll lead you to him."

"Put the sword away," said Lannon, annoyed. "It isn't necessary." Lannon was weary of Jerret's relentless drive to prove his worth as a Squire. He feared Jerret was going to meet a wretched fate if he continued along that path.

Jerret frowned. "Don't be so sure. And besides, as a member of the Divine Shield, I'm sworn to guard your life."

Lannon sighed. "Fine, lead the way then."

But Jerret hesitated, a new gleam of fear springing into his eyes as he stared past Lannon down the tunnel. He raised his sword. Chills flooding over him, Lannon whirled around to see a dark figure standing in the passageway. For an instant Lannon thought the assassin had found him, and the Eye of Divinity sprang to life.

But it was only Shennen Silverarrow, the famed Blue Knight of Dremlock. He approached them casually, and his face, which bore high cheekbones and seemed a bit weathered for a Tree Dweller, was emotionless. As usual, his eyes held a cold and sullen glint. His silver hair was cut short-a rarity for a Birlote. He was a warrior of such skill and reputation (and short temper) that many of the other Knights feared him. Although he wasn't a large man, his lean frame was knotted with muscle and he was extremely swift and agile. But his mastery of his sword-the terrifying precision with which he carved up his Goblin foes-was what had earned Shennen most of his respect.

Jerret breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his sword. Lannon let the Eye falter. The two Squires bowed.

Shennen nodded in return. His face looked unusually pale. "There is work to be done, Lannon. Are you prepared?"

"I'm ready," said Lannon, though Shennen's tone was so grim that Lannon actually wasn't so sure.

Shennen's cold gaze fell on Jerret. "Put your sword away, Squire. Assassin or not, we walk around with sheathed blades in this fortress."

Frowning, Jerret sheathed the sword.

"Did either of you know the Knights who were assassinated?" asked Shennen. "Blain Goldenhelm and Elbur Fairblade?"

They both nodded. Lannon had spoken to Blain-an enthusiastic young Grey Dwarf with a good sense of humor-on several occasions. Elbur Fairblade was a Birlote archer, and like most of the Tree Dwellers, he'd been quiet and reserved.

"Then take a moment to grieve," said Shennen, folding his arms across his chest and bowing his head.

An awkward silence followed, as Lannon found himself dreading the task of examining the hideous Jackal Goblin. He wanted to get it over with. He bowed his head, however, and did grieve for a moment. Finally he looked up, but Shennen's head was still bowed, and so he lowered his own again. The moments slipped past as Lannon waited impatiently.

At last, Shennen looked up and sighed. "Yes, very good. The task that awaits you will be unpleasant."

Lannon nodded, his throat dry.

"After this task is done," said Shennen, "I have yet another task for you-this one not quite as grim, but…perhaps as equally important. I have some Goblin bones I would like you to study."

"Goblin bones?" said Lannon.

"From a very powerful Goblin," said Shennen, a strange expression on his face. "I'm speaking of the Great Dragon that died before the gates of this fortress. But it is still just a pile of bones and nothing to be too concerned with."

"I thought the Dragon burned to ash," said Lannon.

Shennen shook his head. "Some of its bones survived."

"May I ask why you need my help in examining the bones, Master Shennen?" Lannon cringed inside at the thought of it.

Shennen nodded. "I have a great interest in studying the remains of the dead-in particular the remains of Goblins. However, I have reached a barrier I cannot cross. I need to be able to see things on a deeper level. I believe the Eye of Divinity can provide that. My research is incredibly important."

That last statement failed to inspire Lannon. He had no desire to go near the bones of the Dragon-a creature that lived on in his nightmares. Over and over he dreamt of the massive, insect-like monster with the bodies of its victims dangling from stingers beneath it. He dreamt of the enormous purple eyes filled with endless depth, as the creature bore down on him. The Dragon was dead, but its aura remained in Lannon's soul and perhaps always would. Its presence also seemed to linger before the gates of Dorok's Hand, a gloomy feel in the air near where the Dragon had fallen. It was almost as if the creature wasn't truly dead.