But Lannon Sunshield was not in a festive mood at all, and neither was Taris Warhawk. Taris' health had not improved enough for him to attempt the journey to his homeland of Borenthia. He was so weak he could barely get out of bed, and many were afraid he would die on a long journey home. Only the sorcerer's immense will seemed to be keeping him alive.
Lannon stood by Taris' bed one morning, with his guards waiting outside the room. He gazed down in shock at the Birlote sorcerer. Taris' face seemed half covered in squirming shadows, and his left eye had turned permanently yellow. He was very gaunt and seemed barely able to move.
The room was dark, the window shutters drawn in spite of the warm, sunny day. A chill seemed to hang in the air. Candles burned in niches in the stone walls, and the smell of Birlote incense was strong. The atmosphere was so somber that Lannon almost felt like he stood in a tomb.
"We may soon ride to the Bonefrost Mountains," said Lannon. "Hopefully, we'll bring back the Hand of Tharnin."
Taris managed a smile. "I would expect nothing less. However, there is a real possibility I may be dead before you return. I know that's not what you want to hear, but you need to realize the truth and be prepared for it."
Lannon sighed in frustration. "I just wish there was some way to help you. I mean, some easier way."
"I'm not fond of the prospect of dying," said Taris. "I'm still young by Birlote standards and feel I have much yet to accomplish in life. It seems unfair. Of course, what can I do other than complain? Being forced to surrender one's life is always unpleasant. So I've chosen simply to fight to my last breath. At least I can die knowing I did that much."
"But there must be a way to cure you!" Lannon insisted. "We were so close to having the gauntlet in our possession…"
"You can't control everything," said Taris. "Life is fleeting, Lannon. Do what you can, but don't be disappointed if you fail."
"If you're dead when I return," said Lannon, "I will be very disappointed."
"How do you know you'll return?" said Taris.
"What do you mean?" said Lannon, chilled by Taris' words.
Taris gave Lannon a piercing stare. "You must understand the reality of the situation. Jace was wrong to assume the gauntlet wouldn't favor a warrior like Vorden, and I should never have listened to him. My belief is that Vorden will be far more powerful than Vellera the simple farmer was. His Knightly skills will enhance the power of the Hand of Tharnin. He will be nearly invincible. The encounter in the mines-the sparing of your life by Vorden-was, among other things, likely a plot to draw you north with an elite company of Knights. Whoever Vorden's master is, he is very confident that he will score a great victory in the Bonefrost Mountains and leave Dremlock severely weakened."
"Then you're saying I shouldn't go?" said Lannon.
"You have to go," said Taris, "or Dremlock will not survive. And when you go, you may have to confront Vorden and find a way to defeat him. You won't be able to take him prisoner. You'll have to kill him."
"I can't kill him," said Lannon. "He's my friend."
Taris clutched Lannon's wrist with a trembling hand. "This isn't Timlin we're talking about. Vorden has likely become a Black Knight of Tharnin. If you don't give full effort, you stand no chance against him. He will burn you to ash and that will be the end of Lannon Sunshield and his Eye of Divinity."
Lannon nodded. "I'll do what I must, Master Taris."
Taris released him, his eyes closing for a moment. "I know you will. But it still might not be enough. It could take all the strength that Dremlock possesses to defeat Vorden and his Blood Legion. We are weak right now, and our foes are very strong. You've come to Dremlock during one of our darkest periods, when our survival is truly in doubt. The Goblin Lords were just a sign of things to come. The Deep Shadow has gained an edge over us recently. You were brought to the kingdom to tip the scales in our favor, but it hasn't happened yet. The Hand of Tharnin is only one of many grave threats that I believe will be revealed in the months and years to come."
"Any advice on what I should do?" asked Lannon.
"Keep practicing with the Eye," said Taris. "Push yourself until you're exhausted, every day. It will be weeks before Dremlock confronts the Blood Legion. You should grow stronger during that time. Also, prepare yourself mentally to kill Vorden. Visualize yourself slaying him in your mind."
Lannon shuddered. "Taris, I don't want to visualize that!"
"Of course you don't," said Taris, "but you must. Hopefully, you will not have to face him. Dremlock is filled with Knights who can do that for you. But we both know our foes take a special interest in you. The chances are high that Vorden will confront you-if only because he is, or was, your friend. You can expect the battle in the Bonefrost Mountains to be different than the confrontation with Vellera. This will be a full-scale assault, with the Knights prepared for war. That means heavy lances will be involved and siege engines. Much of the fighting could take place from a distance. Yet in spite of all that, it could easily come down to you and Vorden locked in combat-and rest assured, it will be a duel to the death."
"I'll do my best to prepare," said Lannon.
"It's a shame," said Taris, "that a young Squire like you should bear so many burdens. But it has happened many times in Dremlock's history. Valuable Squires-usually talented Birlotes-pushed too early and often into combat. If only you had the will and mindset of a Birlote, things would be a bit easier for you. But Noracks are weak against the forces of Tharnin. If I was a Norack, I would be dead from this wound. I would have died the very night it was inflicted upon me. The light and dark skinned folk are easily enslaved by Tharnin."
"Not all of them," said Lannon, thinking of his father. Lannon had received a letter recently from his parents and had learned that his father was still resisting his own infection of dark sorcery and was doing relatively well. Of course, Lannon suspected his father's illness was far weaker than what Taris was dealing with.
"No, not all of them," Taris agreed. "I heard about your father's courageous struggle. He must have a very strong will."
"And Furlus has survived his wound," said Lannon. "In fact, he's walking around better every day. How has he been able to heal?"
"I suspected Furlus would recover," said Taris. "While Birlotes have strong resistance against the Deep Shadow, the Grey Dwarves are nearly immune to it. The Olrogs were once servants of Tharnin, and that changed them forever. The dark sorcery did not affect Furlus so much as the actual wound. His wound was much worse than mine, but the sorcery barely affected him at all-whereas it is slowly killing me."
"You need some Olrog blood in you," said Lannon, smiling.
Taris grimaced. "My blood is fine as it is. Olrog blood? I'm sure Furlus would love to hear you say that."
"Sorry," said Lannon. "I just meant…"
"You should go and train," said Taris. "You might be under the protection of the Divine Shield and free from normal training, but that's no reason to sit around all day doing nothing. Use your time wisely."
"I will," said Lannon. "You just keep working on feeling better. You're going to make a full recovery if I have my way."