Vorden shrugged. "He'll likely survive. He's a Green Knight and can take a beating. But it makes no difference to me either way. He attacked me first."
"I've had enough of this, Vorden," said Lannon, standing up. "I won't play your games, whatever they are."
Vorden nodded. "No games, my friend. Just a very serious warning. Leave Dremlock now. With your skills, you could have a good life in a city somewhere. You could be a rich man. I'm practically begging you, Lannon. You are my best friend and I'm going to great lengths to save you."
For an instant, Lannon considered Vorden's words. Vorden was right in that Lannon probably could live comfortably thanks to the power of the Eye, but Lannon realized he would never find peace if he fled Dremlock. "I can't do it, Vorden. I came here to be a Divine Knight, and I swore an oath to defend Dremlock."
Vorden sighed. "I'm not alone in this temple. If you had use of the Eye, which I know you do not, you would sense that my master stands nearby in the shadows. He may decide to kill all of you for your stubbornness. In fact, that would be a logical decision on his part. So again I beg you to agree to leave Dremlock forever."
Lannon waved the torch around but could see no one else. "How did you know…?"
"That you can't summon the Eye?" said Vorden. He smiled. "Because my master is whispering in your mind, invoking the fear that drains your will. He has been draining your will for months, preparing the trap you now find yourself in. You would be dead already, except that I have stayed his hand to make this appeal to you. This is a life or death decision."
Lannon glanced at Trenton, wondering if he would soon join the Investigator in a pool of blood. He considered lying to Vorden, but he somehow knew Vorden would see through him. "Nothing will change, Vorden. I will remain a Squire and fight against Tharnin and the Blood Legion. But I'm asking that you spare our lives out of friendship."
Vorden looked troubled and hesitant.
A dark figure stepped from the shadows and into the torchlight-a figure that was a mass of shifting shadows. Violet eyes glared at Lannon and froze his soul.
"Tenneth Bard!" Lannon whispered.
The dark figure pointed a finger at Lannon that vaguely resembled a talon. "You have sealed your fate, Squire."
"Master," Vorden said to the mass of shifting shadows, "I ask that you give Lannon time to reconsider."
"He has been given enough time," came the hissing response. "His time has run out. He has done enough damage to my plans."
"Then leave me to the task," said Vorden. "I have agreed to serve you in all ways and never betray you. Do that much for me."
The violet eyes flashed in rage. "And then you will spare them, of course. And then they will come north and we will be forced to deal with them in battle, when they are stronger. Tell me this isn't your plan?"
Vorden bowed his head. "I won't lie to you, Master."
"I will grant you your favor," said the dark figure. "As a test. If you are truly loyal to me and worthy of Knighthood in the Blood Legion, you will kill them now. But if you fail, and jeopardize everything I have worked for, I may have to reconsider your worth. Choose carefully, Vorden."
With that, the mass of shifting shadows vanished into the darkness, leaving Vorden alone at the altar.
"You won't kill us," said Lannon. "I know it." Inside, though, he wasn't so sure. Under the command of the demon-infested gauntlet, Vorden might be capable of anything.
"I have to kill you," said Vorden, "or my master will not respect me. He has just taken a huge gamble, knowing that if I can summon the strength to execute my closest friends, I will be his loyal servant forever."
"But you won't do it," said Lannon. Somehow, he was certain Vorden would spare their lives.
Vorden leapt over the altar and seized Lannon's throat with the gauntlet. Lannon immediately struggled to breathe. "I'm sorry, my friend. But my master has commanded me to do a task, and I cannot refuse. We are the Knights of the New Order, and unlike the weaklings of Dremlock, we are required to show no pity and give no quarter."
Lannon gazed into Vorden's yellow eyes without flinching. Aldreya hurled green fire at Vorden from her dagger, but it deflected away harmlessly. Vorden stayed focused on Lannon and ignored the Birlote sorceress.
"You can't do it," Lannon whispered. "Not yet." Lannon was terrified, but his confidence that Vorden would spare him never wavered. He focused on overcoming his fear, and he felt sudden anger at Tenneth Bard for invading his mind with his evil whispers. At last, Lannon drove the fear out of his heart and summoned the Eye of Divinity. As the Eye emerged, it felt stronger in some way Lannon couldn't explain. Still, he waited for Vorden to decide.
"Not yet," Vorden echoed. He released Lannon and stepped back. "You know me well, Lannon. Yes, I will spare you this time and disappoint my master. I think perhaps he knew I would. I wanted to prove him wrong, but he is never wrong. Now I will be punished."
"Thank you, my friend," said Lannon.
"Yes, you may still refer to me as a friend," said Vorden. "But this is the last time we shall meet as friends, if you continue to stay on the path to Knighthood. Don't come north, Lannon. You will find a new man waiting in the mountains-a Black Knight who will crush you without remorse."
Lannon said nothing. He knew Vorden spoke the truth.
"I have failed my master," said Vorden. "Now I must go and learn what my punishment will be. I am certain my master will require that I eventually kill you in order to redeem myself. This is somehow all part of his plan."
"A twisted, evil plan," said Lannon. "A plan to destroy Dremlock!"
Vorden grinned. "Indeed. My master is too wise for the Divine Knights, and his ways will remain a mystery to them. There is no doubt that Dremlock is nearing an end at last. And I am grateful to be part of it."
Lannon shuddered, realizing how far gone Vorden was already. The Hand of Tharnin had stolen his best friend and was turning him into a monster. The creature of shifting shadows that Lannon believed was Tenneth Bard was somehow draining the life and will from Dremlock Kingdom as easily as he'd drained Lannon of his use of the Eye. And Vorden now seemed to be his most prized puppet.
"Who is your master?" said Lannon. "Is he really Tenneth Bard?"
"Does it matter who he is?" said Vorden. "And you already know the truth. You have looked into his eyes and glimpsed his soul."
"So I was right all along," said Lannon.
Vorden pointed a metal finger at Lannon. "Don't come north. That goes for you as well, Jerret. That is my last warning. Goodbye, my friends."
"Goodbye, Vorden," Jerret whispered, but his eyes were cold and his hand was locked around his sword hilt.
Lannon didn't respond, but simply watched as Vorden turned and moved off into the shadows. Vorden's warning had fallen on deaf ears. Lannon had every intention of going where he needed to go and saving his friend from the grasp of the Deep Shadow. He never doubted it for an instant.
Moments later, Trenton groaned and sat up, his eyes glazed. "I was dreaming," he said, "of the fall of Dremlock. The Sacred Altar was bathed in wolf's blood. The…the shadow of the wolf stalks our kingdom beneath a frosty moon…a bleak future. I have seen the end of it all beneath the bitter moon, death in the tower…"
"Are you okay?" Lannon asked.
Trenton rubbed his eyes and shook his head. "What's that, Squire? Oh, I guess I was still dreaming…" He jumped up, his eyes wide. He clutched his head and winced. "What a rotten headache! Did Vorden escape?"
"Escape?" said Jerret, looking confused. "No, he let us live and walked away."
***
In the chamber of the Mother Trees, the three Dark Knights had managed to hack their way into the cavern. The Grey Dwarves had refused to give up, and at last their stubbornness had paid off as the roots parted before them. Their rune-covered, heavy armor and bushy beards were splattered with the foul black blood, and their eyes blazed with fury. Their flaming axes rose and fell to their battle cries, as the trees shrank back. Even the wise and ancient Dark Mothers seemed unprepared for the berserk onslaught of these Olrogs. The trees relied on each other for strength, their sorcery channeled with the blood that ran through the roots, and with each blow from a burning axe, their defenses weakened.