Robert Keller - The Eye of Divinity

The floor of the room was littered with corpses-black-armored men and women who had all been crushed and battered. Echoes remained of screams, pain, and terror. Some had escaped, fleeing off down the tunnels, vowing never to return. Other echoes crowded in, ancient and reeking of evil, and he grew sick to his stomach, doubling over. Too late, he realized he had stretched himself too thin, and for an instant, he found he could not draw his power back. He realized Taris was clutching his arm, mumbling strange words in his ear. The Eye suddenly retreated all the way into him.

"They're all dead!" Lannon panted, struggling to catch his breath. "Killed by something… Wait, one man is alive. He crawled into a tunnel, but he won't last long." For an instant, Lannon thought he was going to pass out. But then the sickness slipped away and he managed to stand up straight.

"Wait here," Taris said sternly, to Furlus. "I am going to go down and speak with the dying man. We need to know what caused this."

Furlus scowled, but knowing he needed to stay and protect Lannon, he did as Taris commanded. "Just hurry up!" he muttered.

Taris unlocked the tomb and entered, closing the door behind him. The lock clicked from inside.

The two waited in silence. Only Furlus' raspy breathing could be heard, as the Olrog's barrel chest rose and fell. He fidgeted restlessly, switching his battle axe from hand to hand.

Moments later, the lock clicked and Taris stepped out, carrying the dying man over his shoulder. Gently, Taris laid him in the snow, and then locked the tomb again. The sorcerer knelt over the wounded man.

The Black Knight was big fellow, as wide as Furlus and a foot taller, and his face was covered in a bushy red beard. His plate armor had been caved in, his bones broken beneath. The snow turned crimson around him.

The Black Knight smiled as he gazed at the heavens. "Open sky," he rasped. "Thank you, Birlote, for granting my last wish. "In return, I will answer your questions. Know this, however-I shall never betray my brothers."

"I understand," said Taris. "Was Tenneth Bard your leader?"

"Tenneth Bard?" said the Black Knight. "You speak a name I haven't heard since I was a Squire of your kingdom."

"A Squire?" said Taris. Then his eyes opened wide. "Thadin?"

The Black Knight nodded. "You should have recognized me sooner, sorcerer. I dwelt in your tower, until the High Council cast me out for a single incident of daring to enter a forbidden area. No second chances, just banishment."

"So you joined the Blood Legion?" Taris said quietly. "You traded your honor because you felt wronged."

"No," said Thadin. "I wanted to be a Knight, and that is all. Most who join the Blood Legion are not as vengeful as you think-they simply want the glory of Knighthood, and the Blood Legion offers that if Dremlock will not." He made choking noises for a moment, and coughed up blood. "Speak swiftly, sorcerer."

"Who is your leader?"

"Arnin Deathbringer, a powerful sorcerer."

"With eyes of violet?" Taris said.

Thadin nodded. "That is him. Does he yet live?"

Taris didn't answer. "Who slew your brothers, Thadin?"

"A fiend that Arnin raised from the depths," said Thadin. "We were supposed to be able to control it and use it to bring down Dremlock, but it went insane and attacked us. Now it is loose in the tunnels, seeking the blood of whoever it comes across."

"Describe it, Thadin," said Taris.

"Terrible beauty," Thadin said. "I know of no other way to tell of it. And now I say this… We are the Blood Legion, and we are mighty. Dremlock's time is nearing an end. Your victory will be a brief one, and soon enough, you'll come to understand why you cannot prevail against us. All is not as it appears to be. I have long suspected the truth, and I have feared it. But now, as I pass from this world, I have no fear. Let the future come swiftly, and let all so-called Divine Knights tremble in the face of-"

Thadin's eyes rolled back in death.

For nearly two weeks following what had occurred in Dremlock Cemetery, Lannon was confined with Vorden and Timlin to the East Tower, and they didn't see Aldreya at all during that period. They were permitted to leave their quarters only when absolutely necessary. (The same was true for all the less advanced Squires.) They didn't know what was happening around the kingdom-only catching bits of pieces of rumor that could not be substantiated.

Each evening, Lannon would lie awake for hours wondering if Dremlock had finished off the Blood Legion and the Goblin Lords, and the powerful fiend that had killed all those Black Knights, or if things had taken a turn for the worse. Many times he thought of his parents, so far away in Knights Valley and undoubtedly knowing nothing of what was happing at Dremlock. He believed his father would have been proud of how he had helped the Knights-even if their victory turned out to be short-lived.

And what of Kalamede? Had the city fallen, or were the Goblins driven back? Lannon could get no answers from the Knights, and the Eye of Divinity lay dormant, for he had no desire to call it forth at this point. He felt he needed to relax his mind, to recuperate from the great toll his use of the power had taken on his body. After each day of rest, he felt a little stronger and a little more energized.

Yet Vorden had begun to act strangely. When Lannon tried to talk about the questions that haunted his mind, Vorden acted as if he couldn't care less, brushing Lannon aside with a statement such as, "You worry too much, Lannon." Each night Vorden would take out his new sword and just stare at it-sometimes for hours. He seemed distant and irritable, and his once hearty appetite had diminished. He had lost weight and his skin looked pale.

When Lannon at last questioned him about it, Vorden insisted nothing was wrong, but Lannon wasn't fooled. Something else was wrong with Vorden, and there was no doubt in Lannon' mind it had to do with that dark blade.

Finally Lannon confronted him about it one night, demanding to know why he hadn't been himself lately.

"I told you," Vorden replied, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. Why can't you just go find something to do?"

"You should get rid of that sword," Lannon said. "It came from the mines, and it can't be a good thing. And it's ugly looking, too."

Vorden glowered at him, placing his hands protectively over the sword. Lannon suddenly felt like he was staring at the face of total stranger. "Mind your own business, Lannon!" Vorden snapped. "This sword saved your life. It hurt Tenneth Bard when nothing else could. So quit complaining about it."

"I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't!" Vorden interrupted. He went back to staring at the sword. Suddenly, spiders seemed to be crawling on his face-little shadowy ones. They appeared there for an instant, and then Lannon blinked his eyes and they were gone.

Had the spiders actually existed?

Vorden looked up. "I'm sick of having you stare at me like I'm a freak. So you want to know the truth? Fine! There is a shadow under this thing, Lannon. It interests me because it seems so full of depth. I don't know what it is. Sometimes when I watch it, it changes form. It's not really good, but I know it's not evil, either. It's not the Deep Shadow if that's what you're thinking. It's some kind of new thing-like no one has ever thought of. And I'm going to learn its secrets!"

"Just be careful," Lannon said, chilled to the bone.

***

Thirteen days after Tenneth Bard's death, the Squires were at last permitted to leave their quarters but not the East Tower. Lannon met in the Library with Aldreya and Timlin to talk things over. Lannon was grateful for this bit of freedom, for he knew it meant the Knights must be faring well in their war-yet always he felt like he was being watched by someone or something whenever he left his room.