Robert Keller - The Eye of Divinity

Lannon exchanged goodbyes several times with his parents before he actually got going, and just before he rode off with the Knights, he made his mother promise she would have Grazzal's stable fixed in the near future. Then he went to the old horse and stroked his fur, telling him the good news. Grazzal nibbled at Lannon's fingers, his dark eyes full of whatever wisdom a horse was able to acquire during its lifetime.

All things considered, Lannon parted ways with his parents feeling happier than he'd ever felt in his life. The Knights promised Lannon they would send a White Knight (a specialist in the healing arts) to try to cure his father's illness, which they said was an evil, deadly, and potentially infectious disease of magical origin that would grow more dangerous as time passed. There was no guarantee of success, since Doanan was thoroughly infested with the illness, and even if he was cured, he could suffer a relapse at some point. But it was still a better situation than Lannon had hoped for. And even if Doanan remained ill, his greatest wish had already been granted.

As they rode from the valley, the afternoon sky was grey and featureless, the mist lingering in the lowlands. The Four Lakes, which lay just beyond the northern rim of the valley, were not visible in the fog. Lannon rode with Taris, for the sorcerer was the most slender of the three and had the most room on his horse. As they passed over the hills, the Knights took to arguing about various issues, and Lannon listened with amusement as they went back and forth with their debates. It was different than when his parents argued. It was a jolly sort of bickering between men who seemed to have everything. (This was Lannon's first assumption, but it didn't take him long to realize these Knights faced problems that ran deeper than he could have imagined.)

Riding with the Knights of the Divine Order on his way to a new life of training as a Squire made Lannon almost giddy with delight. He couldn't wait to reach Dremlock Kingdom. Lannon was burning with curiosity to learn more about the skill that had made him a Squire. The thought that he was gifted somehow sent excited shivers down his spine. But he said nothing, figuring the Knights would tell him about his gift when they were ready.

As the afternoon slipped toward evening, they met many travelers on the road. Most were excited to see the famous Knights and stopped to chat, which made Lannon sit tall and proud in the saddle. The Knights always spoke politely, but Cordus made it clear he had no time for small talk-sometimes simply giving a nod and saying "May the Divine Essence warm you, traveler," before galloping on past.

Finally they came to an oaken bridge that crossed the Grey River, beyond which another road branched off leading westward. Lannon had never heard of this river until the Knights mentioned it, and he asked how it had earned such a name.

"It's as grey as Furlus' skin in some spots," Taris answered. "This river flows down from the Goblin Sea, where Foul Brothers go to drown themselves when they're old. Their bodies pile up, and the rotting grey matter is washed down this river."

"Foul Brothers?" said Lannon. "You mean the Goblins that look like us but are actually stupid? I read about them in my book The Truth About Goblins ."

Taris nodded. "No one knows why they end their lives that way, but it makes parts of this river very unclean."

As they left the bridge behind, keeping to the North Road, the hills began to give way to flatland and farms. Corn and wheat fields were everywhere, and trees were sparse. Overhead, hawks, crows, and vultures wheeled about, sometimes swooping low for a look at them. Once a Goblin Vulture passed over, probably having strayed out of the Bloodlands in search of sheep. It shrieked at them in contempt. Lannon caught a glimpse of its humanoid face, which had bulbous black eyes and a mouth like a bloody gash. He pressed close to Taris. The only Goblins he had ever seen before in real life were Tree Goblins that were too timid to attack anyone but infants (and then only if they had absolutely no chance of being discovered). However, the Knights barely bothered to glance at the winged monster, and with another contemptuous shriek it soared off.

When evening had descended, and the road was becoming lost in the gloom, the Knights finally made camp. They chose a spot next to a cornfield, dug a fire pit, and settled in for the night. Despite the thick clouds, it was a warm and pleasant summer evening for camping in the open. Coyotes howled amid the corn, and bats darted in and out of the firelight. Furlus and Cordus smoked pipes and drank some ale, while Taris seemed to require nothing beyond a few sips of water.

As usual, Taris' face was partially lost in shadows beneath his hood. Lannon kept staring at the sorcerer, pondering his mysteries.

Taris took notice of Lannon's scrutiny. "Why do you gaze at me, lad?"

Lannon was caught off guard and could only shrug.

Taris continued to peer at Lannon from beneath his hood, and the boy began to squirm. The shadows hung about Taris' bright green eyes, contrasting their gleam, and some unseen power seemed to radiate from there. The Birlote’s face, framed by flowing silver hair, was strange and sinister to Lannon. Taris had a hook nose and a pointed chin. He looked somewhat devilish. Lannon couldn’t see Taris’ ears, but he had a feeling they were pointy like his chin.

Taris, who had slipped his boots off to reveal large, muscular feet with sharp toenails, kicked Lannon lightly in the chest and knocked him over. "Enough with your staring, boy!" he hissed.

Trembling, Lannon sat up and apologized.

"The lad is just curious," Furlus muttered, laying down to sleep, "that's all."

"I'm sorry," Lannon said again. "I meant no offense."

"You are forgiven," said Taris. "You have a curious mind, which is typically a good thing. We three are easy going, and you need not be afraid to speak or act freely in our presence." He cleared his throat. "Well, aside from receiving an occasional kick, that is. Yet some Knights of Dremlock-especially those of the High Council-would take great offense if you gazed at them like that. At Dremlock, you must watch your manners at all times, Lannon, or the consequences could be dire."

"I'll be careful," said Lannon. Being a Squire was already sounding much different than he'd always imagined, and part of him wondered just what he was getting himself into. He began to picture rigid Knights glaring at him as he walked the halls, and trials and meetings, and many long days and nights ahead. But he felt surely it had to be fun in some ways too. Just learning swordplay and sorcery alone would be worth putting up with strict Knights and hard work.

Lannon moved back farther from the flames. "Why do we need a fire? It seems warm enough tonight."

"It's a watch fire," said Cordus. "We're not that far from the Middle Bloodlands. Goblins sometimes creep forth in search of victims. They usually avoid towns and farms, but they will sometimes attack travelers camped out in the open. A fire usually keeps them away."

"I thought Goblins never attacked anyone outside the Bloodlands," said Lannon. "I thought they lacked the courage."

"Who told you such nonsense?" said Cordus. "At one time that may have been true. But today Goblins attack people anywhere they choose."

"It's in my book," said Lannon. " The Truth about Goblins, by Jace Lancelord." His voice was full of pride.

"Jace Lancelord?" said Taris. "That name is familiar. I remember a Knight named Jace Lancelord, back when I was a young Squire, who was booted out of the order for dabbling with forbidden magic. He had a talent for writing, too. He must be long dead by now-as that was well over a hundred years ago and you humans have such short life spans."