"It must be a bleak existence," said Lannon, "to simply hold shut a door. Wouldn't they grow bored and weary of it?"
"Boredom is a mortal perspective," said Taris. "These shades do what they must, without regret, and the passage of time means nothing to them. The original goal of the Dark Watchmen was to close all the portals to Tharnin, thus defeating the Deep Shadow forever. So by keeping this portal sealed, they have-at least in part-completed that goal."
"But they failed in life," said Lannon.
"Yes, their arrogance destroyed them," said Taris. "They had a chance to defeat the Eye of Tharnin and rid its influence from our world forever. Yet their power and influence became so great they believed themselves invincible. And that is why they fell to the will of Tharnin. And that is what you must avoid."
Lannon shuddered. "I definitely want to avoid their fate. I don't plan to spend eternity stuck inside a door."
"Don't make light of their great sacrifice," said Taris, frowning, "for these six have indeed redeemed themselves. They continue to battle Tharnin every day from beyond the grave. These are your brothers, Lannon. The sixteen Watchmen in Dremlock Cemetery are still cursed and evil. Their bitter shades linger near their bodies, haunting the tombs. They have not yet found a way to break free of the Deep Shadow. But these six were stronger and repented their evil-and Tharnin slew them as punishment. They are truly the last of the Dark Watchmen. These are grim and relentless souls who have no mercy on anyone who tries to pass beyond this door, but if possible, they will guide you."
"Can I talk to the shades?" asked Lannon. He wasn't sure he actually wanted to, but he felt there was no harm in asking.
"Not now," said Taris. "It would be too dangerous. When you're more confident in your skills, you may attempt to communicate with them-if you have a good reason for doing so. But even then it might be very risky."
Lannon sighed. "I'm finding out that I have a lot to learn."
"Yes," said Taris, "but I'm very impressed with the progress you've made so far, especially considering your age and experience. I expected this door to overwhelm you-perhaps drive you to your knees in despair. I knew there was even a slim chance it might scar you for life or make you bitter. Yet you stand there unwavering, holding the sorcery in check."
"Thank you," said Lannon. He was growing weary from using the Eye, however, and he felt the illusion might soon break through his defenses. "And I appreciate you bringing me here and showing me these things."
"It was inevitable," said Taris. "But now we must return to camp and sleep. Tell no one of this excursion. In fact, take a vow of secrecy!"
"I swear to keep it secret," said Lannon, "by the Divine Essence and the Sacred Laws, until you release me from this vow."
"You will long to return here," said Taris, "but you must resist. Do not come back to this tower until you know you are ready. Next time, I won't be with you. You will come alone, and if you're not prepared, you will die here alone. This could either be a second home for you-or your tomb."
"When I return," said Lannon, "I will be prepared."
Taris gazed at him sternly, then nodded. "You are progressing well, Lannon Sunshield. There may yet be hope for Dremlock Kingdom."
Chapter 8: Trouble in Hethos
Taris was right-Lannon did long to go back to the Watchmen's Keep. After he returned to his tent, he lay awake wishing he were still in the tower and unlocking more of its secrets. The items he'd gained were not greatly exciting-nothing magical, though the Glaetherin throwing star was interesting-and he sensed there were greater treasures concealed within the keep, protected by traps and sorcery. But it wasn't the prospect of ancient treasures that filled Lannon's heart with longing-it was the feeling that he'd left his home behind.
"Where were you?" Lothrin asked. He was the only Squire still awake. He lay on his side, his green eyes gleaming with a knowing look in the lantern light. "That old tower?"
"I'm forbidden to discuss it," Lannon replied.
Lothrin smiled. "I guessed as much."
"Why are you still awake?" asked Lannon, sensing Lothrin was distracted by something. "We should both be sleeping."
"Too much on my mind," said Lothrin, his voice a whisper. "It concerns the White Flamestone." He shut his eyes and fell silent.
Lannon waited patiently for Lothrin to explain.
Lothrin opened his eyes again. "I can see it so vividly in my mind when I close my eyes-as if it's actually right in front of me. Its pale glow seems to hold so many secrets. When I picked up the Flamestone after Vannas had dropped it, below the town of Elder Oak, it bonded to me. Its power filled me, inviting me to wield it. Since then I haven't been able to forget about it."
"But you must find a way to forget it," said Lannon, alarmed. "Dwelling on it won't do any good. It belongs to Prince Vannas."
"No," said Lothrin. "Vannas merely borrowed it. It belongs to the Divine Essence. Regardless, it became attached to me in that moment when it lay in my hands-almost as if it wanted to escape Vannas' clutches. It pained me greatly to return it to him."
"What will you do?" Lannon asked, fearing a conflict was brewing.
"Nothing," said Lothrin. "The prince has been charged with the task of wielding it, and it's not my place to interfere." Lothrin glanced at Vannas, who mumbled something in his sleep, as if he were dreaming. "But I believe the White Flamestone dreads my cousin's touch and the arrogant path he is on. I believe the Divine Essence might have made a grave error in choosing the prince."
"I hope you're wrong," said Lannon, but his instincts told him Lothrin spoke true. "Either way, you can't unlock its power as Vannas does. Otherwise, the Divine Essence would have chosen you instead of him."
"That's true," said Lothrin, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "The White Flamestone is much weaker in my hands. Vannas has extraordinary talent-but talent isn't everything. Though it hurts me to say it, the prince lacks the moral character to properly bear such a burden. I'm certain it will destroy him."
"So you believe the Flamestone should pass to you?" said Lannon.
"I don't know," said Lothrin. "Vannas' command of it is so far beyond mine, it would seem foolish for him to surrender it. Yet I fear greatly for his life and for the future of Dremlock. I will reveal my concerns to Taris."
"Good idea," said Lannon. "Taris will know what to do."
"I find this deeply unsettling," said Lothrin. "I didn't believe I could become obsessed with an object of power-even one as great as this Flamestone. Now I've had a taste of the terrible burden that Vannas bears. All I ever cared about growing up was wandering the forest, hunting and fishing, listening to the trees and observing the ways of animals. I thought my soul was pure and free-beyond the petty traps that snare other mortals. Yet now, after a single touch of the White Flamestone, I find myself tormented with longing."
"Perhaps you just need time to get over it," said Lannon. He tried to imagine what Lothrin was feeling, but found he could not.
"That's what I'm hoping," said Lothrin. "Otherwise, I will have to simply endure it and move on. A Squire of Dremlock has no time for longing or regrets. I don't know why the White Flamestone bonded to me like that, but I doubt it was simply to torture me. The reason will eventually be revealed."
Prince Vannas suddenly opened his eyes and sat up, his hand latching onto his cloak where the Flamestone was concealed in its pouch. He started to cry out but stopped himself, his breath rushing out in relief. "Ah, I was only dreaming! It was a true nightmare. I dreamt that I had lost the White Flamestone and everyone closest to me had turned against me."
Lothrin smiled at the prince. "No one has turned against you, my cousin. You know I will always guard your back."