Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

"I believed in you, Vorden," said Lannon. "Even as you are now, I still believed there was some of your old self left in there." He clenched his hands into fists, overwhelmed with bitterness. "Well, I don't believe it now!"

"You were a fool to come here," said Vorden. "The Hand of Tharnin holds complete dominance over my soul-yet I willingly embrace it. This device was banished by the Tharnin Lords. They fear its power and consider it unstable. It was on its way to be destroyed when it fell into the hands of the farmer Vellera. My master-Tenneth Bard-then opted to violate Tharnin law and attempt to use Vellera to assassinate you, Lannon. When that failed, and the gauntlet fell into my possession, my master decided to go all the way and summon the Dragon to destroy Dremlock. And that's where things stand."

Lannon stood in silence, glowering at Vorden. Whatever dark force was writhing inside of him seemed about to break free.

Vorden sneered at him. "Goodbye, Lannon." With that, he started toward the stairway. "By the way, I betrayed you even worse than you thought. Soon you will find only love for the Deep Shadow in your heart."

As Lannon watched, a figure stepped out from behind one of the statues-a figure cloaked in black, with a face of violet eyes and shifting shadows.

"Tenneth Bard," Lannon groaned, his anger instantly replaced by sheer dread.

Before the gates of Dorok's Hand, with a few stars beginning to burn in the evening sky, Timlin and Furlus sat facing each other on horseback. Jerret and Aldreya sat beside Furlus on their horses, holding torches. The Tower Master had requested they ride with him to speak with Timlin in the hope that they could help persuade Timlin to surrender. The Squires gazed up fearfully at the catapults and archers on the torch-lit platforms by the gates, knowing that death could strike from above in an instant. They didn't want to be there-such easy targets out in the open-but Furlus Goblincrusher was not to be refused.

Jerret needed only a brief glance at Timlin's cold eyes and hard face to be convinced Timlin would never surrender. Timlin seemed to harbor a new confidence and maturity to go along with his fantastic-looking white and blue armor. He seemed like a leader, and even though Timlin had aligned himself with evil, Jerret couldn't help but feel impressed and a bit overshadowed. Aldreya, however, looked saddened and was clearly not impressed by Timlin's aura of importance.

Jerret wondered where Vorden and Lannon were-and if Lannon was dead or had been enslaved by the Deep Shadow. He knew Aldreya was wondering the same thing. He couldn't imagine what horrible fate Lannon had come to beyond those huge gates, and he wasn't sure he ever wanted to know.

Jerret made eye contact with Timlin, and Timlin's lips parted in a slight smile-as if he were amused Jerret had made the journey.

"So you're a pawn of Tharnin now," said Furlus. "Congratulations, Timlin. How does it feel to know you threw away an honorable career at Dremlock for a life of slavery and evil? Such a waste of a talented Squire."

"It feels rather good," said Timlin, smiling. "I never fit in at Dremlock and always had to pretend to be something I wasn't. Now I'm free to be who I truly am-with all of my faults. No one questions me here." He chuckled. "They wouldn't dare, or they might catch an arrow through the eye."

"We want you to surrender, Timlin," said Aldreya. "You don't have to do this. Dremlock doesn't want a war. If you surrender, you can begin to make a new life for yourself-away from all of this evil."

"That's right," Jerret mumbled. "We don't want a war." Actually, Jerret did want a war. He wanted to test out his sword skills on Goblins or Legion Soldiers-whoever got in his way. And above all he wanted to test his skills on Vorden. He was certain the Deep Shadow was in his heart-but only traces of it, filling him with a desire for combat and revenge. It had turned Jerret a bit savage. He knew it, yet he told no one and did nothing to change it. He liked who he'd become-with his newfound motivations, skill, and sense of destiny.

"Well, I do want a war," said Timlin. He grinned, his eyes showing an evil glitter in the torchlight. "And what I want, my men had better want. They're not allowed to think for themselves."

Furlus sneered. "So you're free to be a bully here-something you could never be at Dremlock. But you can't even begin to imagine what you've given up and the depths to which you've fallen. When you finally do realize it, it will come as a great shock to you. I pity you, Timlin."

Timlin shrugged. "Pity? Who cares? And you're wrong. I already suffered greatly thinking of what I lost by betraying Dremlock. It gnawed at me constantly. However, now I just don't care. I have power, and power cures every ill. Whenever something troubles me now, I just take it out on someone else."

Furlus nodded. "As I said, you're a bully."

"No," said Timlin, "what I am is the Blue Knight of the Blood Legion-second in command to the Black Knight. Are you second in command, Furlus? No, you're third on the list. A distant third, in fact, if you consider reputation. You'll never be second in command as long as Taris is alive."

"Enough of this silly talk," said Furlus. "You speak as if this is all some childish game. But the reality is that we are facing war, and many lives are at stake. Now are you going to surrender, or shall we get on with storming the gates? And you must know by now that those gates will come down, and when they do, and the Divine Knights flood Dorok's Hand, death will come quickly and decisively. Nothing will stop this army-not Vorden and his Hand of Tharnin, not even Lannon if you've done something to twist his mind."

Timlin hesitated, glancing back at his army, then said, "Vorden doesn't want bloodshed, for some reason that I can't fathom. He wants peace. The rest of the High Council agrees with him-probably because they're afraid not to. Personally, I would prefer we go to war, but my master's word is law. Therefore, I will agree to surrender Dorok's Hand-with some conditions, of course. Will you agree to hear my conditions? If not, then we might as well start the battle right now."

"I will hear the conditions," said Furlus.

"The Blood Legion is very proud," Timlin went on. "We do not take surrender lightly. The Soldiers would prefer not to have to throw down their arms in front of Dremlock's army. Rather, we wish to retreat into the keep, where we will remove our weapons and armor in private. Then we will emerge from the gates unarmed and surrender. You will have possession of Dorok's Hand."

"And you'll do it as soon as we're finished with this discussion?" said Furlus, stroking his beard thoughtfully. "I'm tired of waiting. The gates will be opened and the Soldiers will retreat prior to surrendering? And what if it's a trick?"

"What sort of trick would it be?" said Timlin. "To retreat inside and leave the gates open and unguarded? That would be folly."

Furlus sat in thoughtful silence for a moment. Then he said, "What other conditions are there?"

"That the Legion Masters be granted their freedom," said Timlin.

"I refuse that condition," said Furlus, scowling. "The Legion Masters will return to Dremlock to face trial for their crimes."

"Then I simply ask for leniency on us," said Timlin, "due to the fact that we willingly agree to surrender with no bloodshed. Is that fair?"

Furlus considered it, then nodded. "I suppose that's a fair request. But once the gates are open, your Soldiers will have one hour to remove their weapons and armor and prepare for surrender. After that, my army will enter the fortress. If it turns out this is some form of deception, it will go very badly for you."