Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

Oaran's face was pale, and his shocked eyes revealed his thoughts. He'd won dozens of battles over the years, but now he realized he was hopelessly overmatched. Timlin was simply too swift and too well trained for him. In fact, Timlin was better at fighting an armed man than he was at fighting a Goblin. As a Blue Squire, he'd been trained extensively in weapons combat, and his sorcery guided his movements and enhanced the deadliness of his blade.

Timlin was equally shocked-to find out how well Dremlock had prepared him for a situation like this. He felt like he was toying with Oaran, and his confidence soared. He simply knew he could not lose.

With a desperate howl, Oaran drove in on Timlin with his half-spear. Timlin easily evaded the bumbling, desperate move and, letting the fire die in his blade, he slammed the pommel of the Flayer against Oaran's head. Oaran fell to the dirt and lay bleeding, a foggy look in his eyes.

The crowd sat in stunned silence at the sight of their fallen champion. A few who had dared to bet on Timlin cried out in delight.

"Well done, Timlin," Tolus called down. "Now kill him before he recovers."

Timlin sheathed his Flayer. The crowd booed.

"This is a fight to the death," Tolus shouted. "People have good money at stake. If you don't finish him, I will have both of you killed."

"I won't do it!" Timlin shouted back. "Not for a bunch of cowards." He wondered if this was the end for him-if he would soon lie riddled with arrows and bleeding out his life. He was terrified, but determined to fight to the death.

His face crimson with rage, Tolus and his men came down to the arena. Tolus strode up to Timlin, shaking his fist at him. "Lad, you better finish Oaran off. This is your last chance to win your freedom. Otherwise, I'll take both of you back to your cell, and tomorrow I'll throw both of you in here with some Ogres!"

"Take me back to my cell," said Timlin.

"You'll regret this tomorrow," said Tolus. "Dying at the hands of an Ogre is a terrible fate. Think carefully."

Timlin said nothing, but Tolus' warning made his legs want to buckle. The Ogres would tear them to pieces. Yet Timlin's mind could not be changed.

"Then I truly pity you," said Tolus.

***

The next day, Tolus warned them it would now be two days before they were thrown to the Ogres, and that they would not be fed but could have stale water. After that, the Grey Dwarf didn't show himself again.

Oaran was enraged at Timlin. "You little fool! You had a chance to finish me and save yourself. Now we're both going to die."

"I couldn't do it," said Timlin, shrugging.

"Tolus would love to keep you alive," said Oaran. "But you're dangerous and don't follow his orders. I'm dead no matter what, but if you can convince Tolus that you're sorry and beg for a second chance, he might well grant it."

"It doesn't matter," said Timlin. "I just can't bring myself to kill people in the arena. I don't want to die, but I guess I'd rather die than murder people."

"It's not murder," said Oaran. "It's survival."

"Whatever it is," said Timlin, "I want no part of it."

Oaran bowed his head, his face gloomy, and the two sat in silence for a while. Then Tolus rushed into the hall and, with shaking hands, unlocked their cell. Tolus was alone and his sword was sheathed.

Timlin rose, ready to make a move. But the fearful look on Tolus' face warned Timlin to hold back.

"Timlin, you're free to go," said the Grey Dwarf.

"Why?" said Timlin, wondering if it was a cruel trick of some sort.

Tolus shook his head. "No time to explain, but I'd rather you left that cell and got out of here. I don't want any further trouble!"

"Trouble with who? " asked Timlin, completely baffled.

Tolus frantically motioned to Timlin. "The Blood Legion has come to Rogue Haven, and they want you. Now just go!"

Oaran rose, his eyes hopeful. "Better do it, Timlin. Just get out of here. It might be your only chance!"

Timlin started forward, and then a clanking sound arose. A bulky, armored Knight entered the hall, accompanied by two bearded giants carrying battle axes. The Knight wore dark, exquisitely crafted armor and his face was concealed by a helm from which two yellow eyes peered out. Timlin gasped when he saw the large gauntlet that covered the Knight's right hand and forearm-the Hand of Tharnin.

"The demon man!" Timlin cried, shrinking back.

"Something evil comes!" Oaran said, his eyes filled with fright.

Tolus stepped aside, his face pale. He pointed at Timlin. "Here he is, and as you can see, your lordship, he is unharmed."

The Black Knight and his giants paused before the cell. Timlin could sense the aura of the Deep Shadow-immensely strong and radiating from the gauntlet, yet somehow carefully controlled. "Timlin Woodmaster," said the Black Knight, in a deep voice that sounded vaguely familiar to Timlin. "We are together again, and I couldn't be more pleased!"

"What do you want with me?" Timlin said. "I'm not part of Dremlock anyone. I don't care about you."

"Yet I care about you ," said the Black Knight, "my dear friend. I had a bit of trouble tracking you down, but now that I've found you, I have a question for you. How would you like to be a member of the Blood Legion?"

Timlin gazed on in confusion, wondering if this was some wretched prank that Tolus was playing. But Tolus looked genuinely frightened.

"You think I'm the demon man, huh?" said the Black Knight. He chuckled. "Perhaps if I remove my helm, you won't look so terrified." He removed his helm-to reveal the smiling face of Vorden Flameblade.

Timlin gasped. "How…how can this be?"

"I too betrayed Dremlock," said Vorden. "I stole the Hand of Tharnin and now I control it. I am now the leader of the Blood Legion." He raised the gauntlet, and the blue stones captivated Timlin. "It's all thanks to this. Turns out the so-called demon man was weak, and the gauntlet controlled him. But once I claimed the device for myself, it opened my eyes to the truth. I realized Dremlock is the true evil in Silverland. Instead of making a pact with Tharnin, the Knights continue their foolish war and so many lives are lost. The Blood Legion wants peace for the land and knows exactly how to achieve it."

Timlin nodded, but remained uncertain. When he'd left Dremlock, he'd been full of rage and ready to join with Dremlock's foes. But something had changed in him a bit, and he'd begun to question himself and what was right and wrong. "But are you sure you control the gauntlet, Vorden?"

"Very sure," said Vorden. "If I didn't, I would probably kill you just for fun. Instead, I want you to be a Legion Master."

"What about the Legion Council?" said Timlin, stunned at Vorden's statement. "Wouldn't they have to approve such a thing?"

"My word is law," said Vorden. "The Legion Council obeys me . Unlike Dremlock, the Blood Legion has a supreme commander-a Black Knight who all must serve. I have been appointed to this position. "

"There was another who was called a Black Knight …" said Timlin, thinking of the man who'd claimed to be Tenneth Bard. Timlin wondered what had become of him, and if Vorden had somehow taken his place. He shuddered inwardly at the thought, but he was hopeful Vorden was not a slave of Tharnin as Tenneth Bard had seemed to be. If anyone could resist the power of the Deep Shadow, Vorden seemed to possess the strength of will for the task.

"I am in charge now," said Vorden. "Do not question it."

Timlin again found himself gazing at the gauntlet's hypnotic blue stones, and his fears slipped away. He grinned. "This seems too good to be true! I never would have imagined I'd see you here, in command of the Blood Legion. I almost feel like I'm asleep and will awaken in misery in my prison cell."