Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

Jerret knew the Blood Legion would never surrender-not with Vorden and the Hand of Tharnin on their side. But Jerret had a plan to deal with Vorden, if he could get close enough to speak to him. He felt he was skilled enough to defeat Vorden in combat, as long as the Hand of Tharnin was kept out of the fight. It was a plan that could easily lead Jerret to his death, but he was determined to make Vorden pay for enslaving Jerret's mind-whatever the cost. The obsession with killing Vorden had grown to consume Jerret's life, and he felt that surely destiny must somehow bring the two Squires together in a duel to the death.

Jerret suspected that somewhere beneath the power of the demon that infested the Hand of Tharnin-and the monstrous will of the Deep Shadow-some of the old Vorden Flameblade still remained. But was there enough of the old Vorden left to compel him to accept a challenge from Jerret? Jerret realized that dreaming of revenge (especially against one of his former friends and fellow Squires) was not the way a warrior of Dremlock was supposed to conduct himself. He suspected that somehow Vorden had corrupted his heart with the Deep Shadow, fueling his hatred. Jerret's conscience warned him that he was on a dark path, but his desire for vengeance was too strong to be ignored. Time and again he imagined Vorden's blood-soaked body on the ground at his feet.

"This is what I was trained for," said Vannas, interrupting Jerret's thoughts. "To turn the mighty gates of Dorok's Hand into ash!"

"So that's why Dremlock decided to wage this assault on the fortress," said Jace. "The gates are no longer a deterrent. I should have guessed that. This will be the third time Dremlock, in its long history, has attempted to claim Dorok's Hand. The other two assaults resulted in disaster for the Divine Knights-with many slain. They never even entered the fortress."

"The wooden gates cannot easily be burned," said Furlus. "They are coated with a substance that resists fire. But the White Flamestone will not be stopped. Rest assured the gates will fall-and many Soldiers with it."

"Are you prepared to kill many men, young prince?" Trenton Shadowbane asked Vannas. "Dozens…maybe even hundreds? It will not be pleasant to witness-the cries of the wounded and dying. Yet you must stay strong."

"I am ready," said Vannas, though his eyes looked uncertain. "This is my purpose. This is what the Divine Essence chose me for. All those days and nights in seclusion, the endless lessons. I never thought I would actually end up here, ready to do my god's bidding and see the fruits of my labor."

"We'll see," said Trenton. "Our success may depend almost entirely on you, Squire. Bear that in mind!" With his broken arm and broken ribs still on the mend, the Investigator was slouched in the saddle, grimacing in pain now and then. He'd taken brutal damage from the Bear-to the point where even with his healing technique and the help of the White Knights he was still barely mobile. The constant riding and intense cold had also conspired to slow his recovery.

As they approached the gates-and the army of Legion Soldiers that was gathered in front of them-the Red Knights took the lead, their lances held ready. Next came Furlus and the Squires, surrounded by more Red and Brown Knights and wolves. The sorcerers and archers brought up the rear. Dremlock's army was larger than the one that awaited it, but the Legion Soldiers held a great advantage in positioning, having the higher ground-including the archers and catapults that lined the wooden platforms high above the snows.

Dorok's Hand was a shimmering wall of weapons and Soldiers ready to cast destruction down upon the Divine Army. Jerret gazed upward in awe, thinking that he would never get close to Vorden to take his revenge. In fact, he could only imagine dozens of arrows and boulders raining down until only dead bodies remained. For a moment, he thought they'd made a terrible mistake in ever coming here. The fortress just seemed too well defended.

Then Jerret glanced at Vannas, who held the pouch containing the White Flamestone, and hope returned. As long as the prince held that great gift of the Divine Essence, Jerret's dream of killing Vorden remained a possibility.

"Keep a firm grip on it, Prince Vannas," said Jerret. "They'll try to take it from you." He glanced up and saw Elder Hawks circling above-along with what looked like a Goblin Vulture. "And watch the skies!"

Vannas nodded. "It shall never leave my hand."

When the two armies were only a stone's throw away from each other, Furlus ordered a halt. He sent word through the ranks to beware of the terror-inspiring runes on the statue of Dorok. "Remember your training," he said, "and focus only on serving the Divine Essence."

Then the Grey Dwarf rode to the front of the ranks and waited, sitting fearlessly in the saddle with his arms at his sides. The archers on the platforms could have shot Furlus off his horse, but they made no move.

At last, a Legion Knight-a man as large as Jace-in dark armor and a horned helm rode forth to meet Furlus. His bushy black-and-grey streaked beard protruded from beneath his helm. He carried a huge battle axe in one hand while guiding the reins with the other. His horse was black and larger even than the Greywinds-some type of yellow-eyed Goblin Steed. He looked like death itself.

When the giant reached Furlus, he towered over the Grey Dwarf. Yet Furlus was imposing in his own right-a wall of muscle and stout armor that seemed as if it could never be breached. They conversed for a moment, gesturing occasionally toward both armies, and then the Knight rode back to the gates.

Word quickly spread through Dremlock's army that the Blood Legion was weary of fighting and was considering surrendering-but was still waiting for word from the Legion Masters. They'd asked to be granted until morning to make their decision. Furlus returned to the Divine Shield with a scowl on his face.

"I don't believe it," the Tower Master said. "I'm certain this is some kind of ploy to buy time while they prepare a defense or an attack. I almost think we should just launch our attack and end this quickly!"

"But what if they are sincere?" said Shennen. "Think of all the lives that would be spared. They know they cannot stop us-that we will tear down the gates and overrun Dorok's Hand. Maybe they truly are weary of fighting. Maybe the Hand of Tharnin is no longer a threat-for some reason we do not know."

"We should give them the benefit of the doubt," said Trenton. "It's not Dremlock's way to kill if it can be avoided. It's written in the Sacred Laws that we must give our foes a chance to surrender whenever possible. Well, they have agreed to speak to us and there is a possibility of surrender."

"We shall wait for their answer," Furlus said reluctantly. He turned his sullen eyes on Vannas-the eyes of a Dwarf longing to be unleashed into battle. "But if there is any hint of deception, young prince, you will use the Flamestone upon the archers and catapults on the platforms until they are incinerated-and then turn it on the gates themselves. And then, Dorok's Hand will run red with blood!"

***

Vorden and Timlin led Lannon through a series of tunnels into a large cavern with a pit at the middle of it. Lannon recognized it instantly as the cavern from his dreams-though in the dreams he'd assumed it lay in the mines below Dremlock. And while the pit in his nightmare had been full of lava, this one was cold and seemingly empty, save for a ring of torches that partially surrounded it. However, Lannon could sense the evil aura of the Deep Shadow rising from the pit, and it was indeed like a raging fire that threatened to burn away his soul.

"Soon Dremlock will reach our gates," said Vorden. "There, the Knights will wait to see if we're going to surrender. Meanwhile, we will prepare a most unpleasant surprise for them. Actually, I've been preparing it for days now, but the process is fairly slow. I want you to accompany me into the pit, Lannon."'