Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

Lannon thought of how the Knights reacted whenever one amongst them was slain, and he could not agree with Dalvin. Obviously, the Legion Master had forgotten what it meant to serve Dremlock. It was true that the Divine Essence was a strange god in that it did not require love or worship. It demanded loyalty and respect and was spoken of with great reverence, but that's typically as far as it went. It was almost as if the Divine Essence did not consider itself a god at all-which made sense considering it was only a fragment of the White Guardian. Yet in spite of all that, Lannon would have given his life to protect the Divine Essence and would gladly spend his remaining years serving its will. Lannon realized that he did in fact care deeply for the Divine Essence, whether it was a real god or not.

Over the next few hours, Lannon worked on healing his hands. The technique was one all Squires had to learn and practice frequently-especially after harsh training sessions when muscles were sore-but since Lannon's Knightly Essence was very weak for a Squire of Dremlock, he was not highly proficient at it. However, he focused hard on his task, and it was a powerful technique that involved visualizing what he wanted accomplished-in this case, the healing of his hands-and repeating commands in his mind. Eventually some of the feeling returned to his hands. Soon they began to itch terribly. He ignored the itch and continued on with the technique, letting nothing distract his mind.

At some point during his meditations, he fell asleep and dreamt he was gazing up at the frozen moon. Its light was fused with the power of the Deep Shadow, washing away all hope. The moon was stalking Lannon, and he fled underground to escape it before it could claim his soul.

Once again the Eye of Divinity became the Eye of Dreams, and Lannon found himself in the smoldering chamber with the lava pool. He saw the dark figure again standing on the other side of the pool-only this time the figure wore the Hand of Tharnin, the blue stones in the gauntlet beckoning Lannon to his doom. The figure wore dark armor with runes that were glowing like liquid gold. Once again, something horrendous was moving about in the fiery pit-something so terrible it seemed to defy sanity. The dark figure laughed and said, "Soon you will join me, old friend." And it pointed into the pit.

The next day was bright, with a blue sky above, yet it seemed colder than the day before. Thanks to his healing technique, Lannon's hands were doing much better in the morning, and he vowed to himself he would not let them tie him up again. But they left his hands free as they led him to a horse-obviously confident their crossbows would put an end to him quickly if he tried anything.

"You can ride on your own," said Dalvin. "I'm sure you know better than to try to escape. And I have faith that your word is good and that you won't try anything. I think you're an honorable lad." The Legion Master smiled and handed Lannon a pair of fur mittens. "These should be helpful."

Lannon knew Dalvin was simply trying to sway him to join the Blood Legion, but he was grateful for the mittens nonetheless.

"The going will be slow," said Dalvin, with the snow drifted so high and the terrain very steep in places, but we should reach Dorok's Hand by early afternoon." He patted Lannon on the shoulder. "We had a good talk last night. Master Vorden was wise to insist you be kept alive. In the short time I've known you, Lannon, I have come to trust that you'll do what is right."

Dalvin spoke in a sincere manner, yet Lannon saw through the compliments without even needing to use the Eye. But he simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Master Dalvin. I just hope we can resolve everything peacefully. Why should there have to be a war?"

"There will be no peace," said Dalvin, sighing. "Not with Dremlock coming to destroy us. The Knights will never leave us to our way of life, my young friend. In fact, they will try to kill us to the last Soldier."

Lannon said nothing, though he knew Dalvin was either sadly mistaken or merely putting on an act. The Knights would have gladly accepted the surrender of the Blood Legion. Yet Lannon saw a wonderful opportunity to warm up to his foes and pretend to give them what they wanted. They could not know that he was still fiercely loyal to Dremlock and had no plans to change sides.

As they passed on up into the mountains, Lannon wondered how far behind him the Knights of Dremlock rode. The clash between the two armies seemed inevitable, and the Squire shuddered at the thought of how much blood would be spilled. Like the Knights of Dremlock, some of the Legion Soldiers used sorcery (of a darker sort) and were well trained for battle. It would make for a horrific conflict.

"Soon you will be with your friend again," Dalvin said to Lannon in a low voice, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You would be wise to cooperate with him. The person you knew at Dremlock is gone forever."

"I can't believe that," said Lannon.

"Then you're a fool," said Dalvin. "If you go into Dorok's Hand with the notion of saving him, he'll kill you. He has no pity in his heart, Lannon."

"You hate him," said Lannon, seeing the contempt in Dalvin's gaze.

"To my very core," said Dalvin. "The fact that a mere boy rose through our ranks so quickly…it gnaws at me. I'm not the only one who feels that way-and he is well aware of it. Our anger amuses him."

"Will you betray him?" Lannon asked.

Dalvin scowled at the Squire. "And be a traitor to the Blood Legion? Never! And never speak of such a thing again! I'm merely trying to warn you that Vorden Flameblade is not the Squire you once knew. He is thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow and is completely unpredictable."

"Yet you want the Deep Shadow to prevail," said Lannon, "or you wouldn't be fighting against Dremlock. That makes no sense to me."

"Lies, taught to you by Dremlock," said Dalvin. "We want Silverland to live in harmony with Tharnin-to strike a bargain. We know it is possible. Yes, I despise the Deep Shadow just as you do, but this is a war that Dremlock can never win. The Blood Legion was formed as an alternative to Dremlock-a better way of bringing peace to the land. Yet instead of letting us do what must be done, the Knights have ruined our plans constantly over the centuries."

Lannon pondered Dalvin's words-and rejected them. Striking a bargain with Tharnin would undoubtedly mean the expansion of the Bloodlands and endless numbers of Goblins terrorizing the land. Dalvin seemed delusional-his mind twisted in ways he wasn't even aware of. A quiet groan escaped Lannon's lips at the thought that he was now surrounded by madmen, many of whom had been contaminated by the Deep Shadow and didn't even know it.

***

Dorok's Hand was an ancient Legion stronghold that had never been breached. The entrance was a forty-foot-tall cave mouth that led into the mountain, sealed by gates made of enormous logs. The fortress took its name from a towering, rune-covered statue, carved from the mountain wall, of a bearded warrior that stood beside the entrance, his hand outstretched as if to descend upon those who dared enter. Archers and Soldiers who tended catapults lined wooden platforms to either side, on high alert. Lannon gazed up in awe, imagining the terror that would reign down on Dremlock's army from those heights. Everywhere he looked were huge bodies, grim faces, and row upon row of weapons. And smaller cave entrances lined the mountain on either side, no doubt harboring more foes.

"What do you think of our divine kingdom, Lannon?" asked Dalvin, grinning broadly. "I'll bet you weren't expecting anything like this."

Lannon didn't reply. His throat seemed too dry for speech, the terror surging within him. The reality of what this war would mean-the epic loss of life-was finally clear to him. The terrain leading up to the cave mouth was sloped, and Lannon could imagine dying Knights and horses tumbling downward through the bloodstained snow. But beyond all that, the mouth of the savage fortress seemed ready to devour him. He wondered if he was entering a lair from which he would never return. It seemed only torment, madness, and death awaited him within. Lannon had never felt further away from the small cabin in the woods, where he'd grown up with his mother and father secluded from the outside world, than he did now.