Garrin smiled and blew out some pipe smoke. "Done what? Claimed this tower as my own? Enslaved the useless High Council? I haven't done anything wrong. The North Tower finally has a real master within it-a powerful and wise master, unlike that useless drunken oaf Cordus. Oh, did you know he has a problem with wine? Yes, he drinks it every day, which is a violation of the Sacred Laws' demand for moderation. By evening he has usually lost his wits. It's an embarrassment to the High Council, yet they do nothing about it. And he's seeing a lady friend who lives farther down the mountain. Your great hero Cordus is one who has no regard for the so-called Sacred Laws. And here you thought he was so perfect."
Lannon's anger boiled over at Garrin's words. "I don't believe you. Why should I trust the words of someone possessed by the Deep Shadow?" But Lannon remembered that Cordus often had bloodshot eyes in the evening and that he frequently journeyed down the mountain on mysterious errands. Considering the immense pressure the Lord Knight was under, Lannon could forgive him for a few lapses in judgment. But Garrin's words couldn't help but tarnish Cordus' image in Lannon's mind.
"But who cares what that fool does?" said Garrin. "He is the worst Lord Knight Dremlock has ever had. I would have killed him already, except I need him alive to keep the Knights-those puppets gathered around my tower-at bay. And I am certainly not possessed by the Deep Shadow. I have chosen to serve Tharnin willingly. Why? Because Tharnin offers me the promise of wealth and power far beyond what this pitiful kingdom can offer. I would never have been made the Lord Knight here, because my color is Blue, and Blue means assassinations. Blue Knights receive a type of scorn that other colors do not suffer. It's unfair. But I've always been a man driven by power. I simply hid it well. The Knights thought they had me right where they wanted me, wandering around that wretched East Tower training fools like you in the arts of stealth and murder, wasting my life. But, as you can see, that was never my destiny. My skills are tremendously useful to Tharnin."
"I still think you're possessed," said Lannon. "You've changed a lot since I first met you. I respected you a great deal once."
"You just want to believe that," said Garrin. "But the truth is, I haven't changed one bit other than to grow more determined to rise above my challenges. I never actually liked you, Lannon. In fact, I hated your miserable hide from the first day I met you. I did my best to sabotage your training, which is why the other Squires have advanced beyond you. Unfortunately, I couldn't make you fail completely. Not with other trainers on hand-and that wretched power you possess."
Garrin's words hurt Lannon deeply, but he didn't let it show. "It doesn't matter anyway. You wanted to see me, so here I am. I defeated the demon man and he is a prisoner. So if you're relying on him, don't bother."
"I don't need him," said Garrin. "He is in league with the Blood Legion-a puppet of theirs. I serve Tharnin directly, under the command of a great master. You know him as Tenneth Bard. I command an army of Goblins!"
"What do you want from me?" Lannon asked. "And if you really serve Tenneth Bard, then what does he want from me?"
Garrin laid his pipe aside and sipped some wine. "I won't speak for my master. But as for what I want-perhaps I just want you to watch while my Jackals tear apart your precious Lord Knight. We've got him in a cell in Dremlock Dungeon. Perhaps I want to reason with you, to persuade you to join with us and use your power for a noble cause."
Lannon shuddered. "Never."
Garrin hurled the wine flask against a painting of Kuran Darkender. The flask shattered, and red wine ran down like blood from the greatest Knight who had ever lived. "You think you're so noble, Lannon Sunshield. It disgusts me. You don't realize how the world has changed, how good and evil are not so easily defined anymore. Your silly notion of a shining kingdom filled with heroic Knights is nothing but an illusion. Those types of heroes do not exist."
"What do you want from me?" Lannon repeated.
"You were trained to cut throats and stab backs," Garrin went on. "Trained for assassin missions. How does that make you feel? How would it feel to creep up on a young warrior from the Blood Legion-a young man like you with concerned parents waiting for news of his welfare-and run your blade across his neck?"
Lannon shook his head. "I won't do that."
"Then you'll never be a Knight!" shouted Garrin. He glared at Lannon, and then smiled. "To be a Knight, you must enjoy killing. I know I did. I've killed many Goblins…and many men. And I enjoyed killing the men more than the Goblins. Men beg to be spared. Goblins do not."
"Either tell me why you've brought me here," said Lannon, "or I'm leaving. I won't stand here and listen to this."
Garrin hurled a book against the wall, knocking a painting down. "You'll do whatever I tell you, or Cordus Landsaver will die in agony. I have only to give a shout and the cruel deed will be done. Is that understood?"
Lannon looked around again. There was no one else in the room. He focused his gaze on Garrin, probing him with the Eye of Divinity.
Garrin's eyes widened. "You wretch of a Squire! You hope to use your vile power on me, because we're alone? I trained you! I shared great secrets with you!" He leapt off the bed and drew his long, curved dagger-his Flayer. "I brought you here so we could talk peacefully-to ask if you would surrender yourself to Tharnin so your precious Lord Knight can be spared. Yet now I see a shadow of menace in your gaze, as if you dare to…to threaten me."
Lannon stepped toward Garrin. "You're not going to kill Master Cordus, or anyone else for that matter. You're the one who'd better surrender." His legs were weak with fear, but he gazed at Garrin sternly. It was clear that Garrin had underestimated Lannon's maturity level and confidence, that he'd never expected Lannon to turn the Eye of Divinity against him.
Garrin's hand trembled as he held the Flayer. "And what if I don't surrender? Will you murder me where I stand?"
"No, but I'll take you prisoner," Lannon said, and he seized Garrin with the Eye, hoping to freeze him motionless. He caught Garrin off guard and pinned his arms to his sides.
Garrin's face burned crimson with fury. His eyes shone with a yellow glint as he fought to break Lannon's hold. Slowly, his hand came up, the curved dagger gleaming in the lantern light.
Lannon realized that he lacked the strength to stop Garrin from stabbing him. Either Garrin possessed some fanatical strength of will or Lannon was still weak from his duel with the demon man. Regardless, the dagger was charged with powerful dark sorcery, a spiteful energy that desired only to shred Lannon's flesh. In moments, it would strike Lannon's heart and the battle would be over.
Reacting on instinct, Lannon unleashed the full power of the Eye upon Garrin, shoving him backwards with vicious force. Garrin struck the wooden window shutters and smashed them into splinters, his scream echoing into the night air. And then he was gone from the fifth-floor window.
Drastically weakened, Lannon collapsed to the floor and lay struggling to catch his breath. Moments later, the sounds of shouts, howls, and clanking weapons came from below. The Divine Knights had chosen to invade.
Lacking the strength for battle, Lannon simply lay there and listened, praying the Knights would dispatch their foes swiftly. Regardless, his mind was haunted by a grim realization.
"I have killed my master," he whispered, groaning.
Chapter 8: The Fate of Timlin Woodmaster
The battle was over quickly. The Knights dispatched the Goblins and freed the High Council with no further loss of life. Some of the Goblins fled below the keep into the mines, but a company of Knights was waiting to put an end to their escape. The Goblins had tried to execute the High Council members, but somehow Cordus Landsaver had broken free of his ropes and slain the would-be executioners. He'd suffered a deep claw wound to the cheek and a broken wrist, but otherwise was unharmed and in good spirits.