Cordus smiled at him. "Each of these great Knights has a magnificent tale behind him. But the most intriguing of all-certainly the most tragic-is the story of Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight. You will learn much of the history of Dremlock, Silverland, and even our continent of Gallamerth as you advance into Knighthood."
"I want to know about Tenneth Bard right now," said Lannon. A deep sadness wrenched at his heart, underneath which lay a darkness spawned by something he dared not peer into.
Cordus frowned and shook his head. "Some things are better left untold, for the time being. I don't wish to burden you with too much knowledge until you are ready for it. This tale can wait until another time."
"Okay," said Lannon, getting under his quilt. He pulled it over his head, trying to block the statue from both eye and mind. For some reason, he needed to hear the story of Tenneth Bard, though he doubted it would offer him any comfort. Yet sometimes not knowing was the worst feeling of all.
An hour passed by. Cordus lay down to sleep, and soon started to snore. Furlus finished gnawing the meat from the bone and also lay down. Taris alone sat by the fire, and he beckoned Lannon over. "Come, I will tell a bit of the tale you've been waiting to hear. No harm will come of it."
Lannon eagerly left his blanket and sat down across from Taris.
"Tenneth Bard was once an exceptionally talented Knight of Dremlock," said Taris. "But he was expelled from the Order for violating the Sacred Laws. He became a pathetic drunkard, wasting his life away, until King Ordamer of Bellis called upon his services. He joined with the Knights of Serenlock in their attempt to destroy the Divine Order. But his former failure had changed him. He was no longer sane or stable. The darkness was in his heart, and drove him deeper and deeper into madness. When Serenlock was defeated, Tenneth Bard escaped and became a Black Knight-sworn to topple Dremlock."
"Why was Tenneth Bard expelled from Dremlock?" asked Lannon, hoping to avoid the same fate. The Sacred Laws sounded quite rigid.
"The sad thing is that it was all quite needless," said Taris. "Tenneth Bard made a mistake that he probably should not have been banished over. Yet time and again, great Knights have been cast from the Divine Order for petty violations of the Sacred Laws. And time and again, it has come back to haunt Dremlock."
"Was Tenneth Bard ever killed by anyone?" said Lannon.
"After Serenlock was defeated," said Taris, "Tenneth Bard formed a band of Black Knights called the Blood Legion. When the Divine Knights finally hunted down and broke up his clan-temporarily, mind you, for the Blood Legion exists to this day-he escaped into the Northern Bloodlands and was never seen again. Those are the most dangerous Bloodlands of all, filled with horrors that defy the imagination, and it has always been assumed that he perished out there."
"Why were these statues left standing?" said Lannon.
"As a tribute to our victory," said Taris, "and a warning to future plotters against Dremlock."
"I feel like the statue of Tenneth Bard is watching me," said Lannon. "He certainly does look insane." He folded his arms across his chest and shivered.
"I think there was something evil about Tenneth Bard," Taris said, "that went beyond his insanity. I believe he was in league with dark and powerful forces-perhaps the Deep Shadow itself, which is where all foul sorcery comes from. Even to this day, we may not fully realize what damage he did to Dremlock Kingdom."
Suddenly Lannon felt guilty. He glanced at Cordus, who was still snoring peacefully under his quilt. "Maybe I shouldn't know these things," he whispered. "Cordus thought I should wait to hear of it."
"These are histories you would learn regardless," said Taris. "You're not just a lad who happens to be traveling with us, Lannon. You are soon to be-officially-a Squire of Dremlock Kingdom, and as such, you will learn many things about the past. Now try to get some rest. We still have much traveling to do."
Lannon curled up in his blanket and tried to sleep. For half the night he lay awake, his heart troubled by things he could not understand, feeling Tenneth Bard's crazed eyes upon his soul. Finally he slipped into dark dreams of warfare and bloodlust. He felt the weight of centuries bearing down on him, a shifting tide of glorious victories and renowned men and women-but also of crushed dreams, failed honor, and fallen Knights. Shadows clashed amid the hills and mountains, while Goblins crept out from the gloom of the bloated Mothers to make war on life itself. The dreams lasted the entire night, and Lannon could not escape them until the grey dawn touched his eyelids.
***
The Knights seemed in good spirits the next day. As they rode through the Northern Hills, they talked of jolly things that Lannon listened to with interest for a while and then grew bored with. They spoke of battles past and humorous affairs, of failed Knights and talented ones, the state of the land (with no references to Goblins), and the relationships of the Birlotes, Noracks, and Olrogs. They also talked of things Lannon found boring, like trade and taxation and the value of money. Soon Lannon's mind began to stray from their conversations to thoughts of his folks, the journey, and what awaited him at Dremlock.
By afternoon they had reached the forest lands of Hethos, where trees stood reaching heights of two hundred feet or more and had trunks as wide as cabins. The clouds had broken this day, and the sun streamed down amid the furry pine branches, scattering mottled patches of light across the forest floor. The mist was clearing up. Hethos consisted of vast stretches of woodlands interrupted briefly now and then by farms, hill country, and grasslands.
They stayed the night in a little town called Fargun's Vale that was full of hunters and trappers. It was a rough place, but had a fancy inn called the Divine Alehouse, which was built exclusively for Knights and Rangers. Yet even in this thick-walled inn, which lay on the very edge of town, the travelers could hear brawls and shouts throughout the night.
The next morning, they set off with the shadows still thick about the forest. The wooded hills and valleys continued on, and the ride there was pleasant, the day's warmth held in check by cool breezes. The air was fresh and sweet in their lungs, and the forest was rich with animal life-a welcome change from Bloodlands. They took long breaks for lunch and dinner, resting on soft pine needles, and their spirits were high.
By late afternoon they had reached the muddy banks of the Sorgrot River, which flowed down from the Firepit Mountains. The Firepit range towered above them, stretching from east to west as far as they could see. The forest climbed high into the peaks, a carpet of green clinging to the mountainsides.
Lannon got his first glimpse of the great stone wall that protected Dremlock Kingdom, which sat on a plateau about a quarter of the way up Darkender Mountain (as the Knights called the great peak). Lannon could see a few buildings here and there on plateaus leading up to where Dremlock sat.
The travelers followed the road, winding upward alongside the river. The shadows of evening descended swiftly amid the pines and boulders, with blazing stars visible in the open spaces between the boughs. Wolves howled amongst the forests and rocky ledges, drawing threateningly close at times. The Greywinds snorted contemptuously at the wolf howls and trotted with their heads held high. These warhorses, seldom afraid of anything, were used to the wolves and did not fear them.
The Knights lit lanterns, and soon the shadows around their sphere of light became too thick to peer into. Yet still they followed the road on its steady climb upward into the mountains. Gradually the river curved away, the roar of rushing water growing ever fainter.