Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

"You're not dreaming, my friend," said Vorden. " Master Timlin… How do you like the sound of that? You will fight by my side."

Tolus shrank back, his body trembling.

Oaran simply gazed at them with wide eyes.

Timlin fixed his angry gaze on Tolus. "So I'm now a Legion Master, Vorden? Does that mean I command those giants?" Timlin felt a rush of exhilaration at the thought that he was in command-gone from slave to leader in an instant.

"They are at your service," said Vorden, a glint of anticipation in his eyes.

Timlin pointed at Tolus. "Seize him!"

Scowling, the giants grabbed Tolus' arms. They roughed him up a bit and forced him to kneel, yanking his head back to expose his throat.

"Release me!" Tolus pleaded. "I mean no harm!"

"This Dwarf made me a slave," said Timlin. "He beat me and starved me, and made me fight against my will."

Vorden's face darkened. He turned and seized Tolus' throat with the Hand of Tharnin. "Give the word, Timlin, and I will crush him!"

Timlin considered it, then shook his head. "I don't want him dead. But I want all of these slaves freed. Can we do that, Vorden?"

"We can do whatever we want," said Vorden, grinning, "and if anyone opposes us, they will quickly regret it."

"Then after we free the prisoners," said Timlin, "I want this whole tavern burned to the ground. Boot everyone out and we'll set it on fire!"

It was easy to see that Vorden had changed-his yellow eyes alone told the tale. Timlin feared what he'd become. Yet Vorden did seem confident and in control of his destiny, and Timlin was too focused on his current situation to fret over such things. He could worry about Vorden later.

Vorden laughed heartily, while Tolus begged them not to destroy his business. "I like your thinking, Timlin," said the Black Knight. "Let us burn this dung pit and leave this pathetic Dwarf to rule over ash."

Timlin smiled at Oaran. "You're free to go and see your family, and you'll never have to kill again. Good fortune has found you today, my friend. It has found both of us!"

But Oaran did not return the smile. His face was grim. He stared at Timlin with a look that would haunt the lad-a mix of fear, pity, and disgust. And then he fled the hallway without looking back.

Timlin was surprised to find that fall had surrendered to an early, vicious winter while he'd been in the dungeon. As the tavern burned to the ground behind him, black smoke curling up toward the heavens, Timlin stood in the swirling snow that was piling up in the little town of Rogue Haven.

The villagers had all retreated indoors out of fear of the Blood Legion. A small battalion of Legion Soldiers sat on horseback-mostly grim-faced, bearded giants who wore heavy armor and carried battle axes and war hammers. Timlin was given a fine horse to ride and a fur cloak to wear, and he sat tall in the saddle next to Vorden. He was still stunned by the fact that he was now a Legion Master and second in command only to Vorden. The power had been granted too easily and too quickly, and Timlin was overwhelmed by it-unsure how to behave. He didn't know if the Soldiers would accept him so easily as a leader.

"We must ride north quickly," said Vorden, "to Dorok's Hand, our great fortress. Dremlock has sent an army to destroy us."

"What will we do?" said Timlin, imagining a sea of Divine Knights marching ever closer. When you were a foe of Dremlock, the kingdom was terrifying. The Divine Knights seemed to harbor endless secrets.

"Do not fear, my friend," said Vorden. "We will be ready. Destiny is at work in our favor-bringing two former Squires together to lead the Blood Legion to victory. The Legion sorcerers believe it to be so."

"We're relying on fate?" said Timlin, not liking the sound of that.

"Of course not," said Vorden. He smiled at Timlin. "We also have a weapon that will ensure victory."

Timlin's gaze strayed to Vorden's gauntlet. Once again, the blue stones captivated him and eased his mind. "The Hand of Tharnin."

"Better than that, even," said Vorden. "It is a weapon backed by centuries of righteous anger. Can you feel that anger, Timlin?"

Timlin could feel it as he gazed at the blue stones-rage and hatred inside him. The gauntlet seemed to be revealing great truths to him. He realized he was now ready to kill in the name of justice.

"Lannon rides with the army," said Vorden. "He has sworn to kill us both. I tried to reason with him and failed miserably."

"Then we should kill him before he can kill us," said Timlin. His feelings of friendship toward Lannon seemed totally dead. Vorden's Hand of Tharnin was reaching deep into his mind and showing him great truths. Now Lannon was just a threat that deserved all of Timlin's spite.

"That is the plan," said Vorden. "However, I haven't given up on taking him prisoner if the opportunity arises."

"Why?" said Timlin, deeply puzzled.

Vorden said nothing for moment, and he looked conflicted. "Information," he said at last. "He knows secrets that could be useful to us."

"Are you sure you actually want him dead?" said Timlin.

Vorden's face darkened with anger. "Yes, and do not question my motives. You're like a brother to me, Timlin, but you lack faith."

"I'm sorry," said Timlin. "I do have faith in you, Vorden."

"Actually," said Vorden, "if Lannon would agree to join us-which I highly doubt he would ever do, considering his deep love for Dremlock-I would gladly spare his life. Otherwise, rest assured I will kill him."

As they guided their horses along the road that led north from Rogue Haven, the wind picked up, blasting snow into their faces. Vorden put on his helm, but otherwise seemed impervious to the cold. He sat like a metal statue on his horse. Timlin thought that Vorden's armor must be terribly heavy, yet Vorden didn't seem bothered by it in the least. The armor-clearly crafted by the hammers of Grey Dwarves and probably made of stout Glaetherin-moved fluidly as he moved. The gold designs on black seemed very dignified and seemed to suit Vorden's personality.

"It's custom armor," said Vorden, noticing Timlin's scrutiny of it. "I designed the look of it myself. What do you think?"

"It's incredible," said Timlin

"You can have your own custom armor and weapons," said Vorden, "once we get back to Dorok's Hand."

"That would be great," said Timlin. "Except I want something lighter."

Vorden chucked. "Indeed. This armor weighs a ton."

"I'm very curious about something," said Timlin. "How did you become the leader of the Blood Legion so quickly?"

"I was appointed by the previous leader," said Vorden. "But don't ask any questions about him. He favors secrecy."

"Tenneth Bard?" said Timlin, unable to help himself.

"I said don't ask ," Vorden muttered.

"How are the Soldiers reacting?" said Timlin. "I mean, do they accept you?"

"They're terrified of me," said Vorden, with a laugh. "This Hand of Tharnin scares the wits out of everyone."

"I'm not afraid of it," said Timlin. "Not when you possess it."

"It's really quite remarkable," said Vorden. "Not long ago I was nobody. Then I put on this gauntlet, and suddenly everyone bows before me. I actually have Lannon to thank for it all-and so do you. He made us important, Timlin. Without Lannon, we would have remained obscure. Sure, we could have become great Knights, but he opened doorways that have led us to this glory."

"It feels very strange," said Timlin. "Two Squires leading an army. I still can't quite believe this is real."

" Former Squires," Vorden said. "And yes, it is strange. But no stranger than Lannon being so prized by Dremlock. In youth, there is hope. We represent the future of the Blood Legion-the future of Silverland itself."