"I've never gone to a temple," said Lannon. "But I do know about the Divine Essence and some about Dremlock. It's in my book Tales of Kuran Darkender."
"That's a stupid book," said Cartlan. "I've read it. So you mean to tell me you've never, ever, gone to a temple?"
"Never," said Lannon.
Cartlan turned, his mouth gaping open in disgust. "Just where are you from? Some sorry little valley off in the middle of nowhere? Did you grow up worshipping some pagan forest gods or something?"
"No," Lannon said, unable to come up with a better reply. His face was flushed red with embarrassment, and he lowered his gaze.
"Regardless," said Cartlan, "I don't have the patience to explain things you should already know. You'll learn all about Dremlock in due time."
Guard towers stood atop the wall on either side of the gate, each manned by two Knights armed with crossbows. As they caught sight of Lannon and Cartlan, a bell chimed out. A huge Knight, adorned in tarnished plate mail and a two-handed battle axe, stepped out of the guardhouse in the tunnel. He was at least seven feet tall, and most of his bearded face was concealed with a horned helm. He wore a red sash across his plate mail.
"Brought us another, Cartlan?" the Gatekeeper said gruffly.
Cartlan nodded. "Just a little fellow. Goes to show you the Tower Masters will take anything these days, Gellick."
Gellick chuckled. "Come now, Cartlan. Give the lad the benefit of the doubt. There could be more to him than meets the eye."
Lannon glanced at the two, his stomach growing heavy with tension. He wished more than ever that Cordus, Taris, and Furlus were with him. He felt alone and suddenly exposed for the weakling he was. He put his hands in his pockets and shrank down in the saddle. The Color Trials-whatever they were-could end up being dreadful.
Gellick strode over and gave the wheel a spin that looked totally random. But when the wheel stopped, a click arose. He shoved the gate open. "Have a good afternoon, Cartlan. And you, little fellow, hang tough. Size means nothing, all in all."
Easy for you to say, Lannon thought.
The floor of Darkender Tunnel was flawlessly smooth. Birlote torches shone on the walls-glowing crimson gems mounted on silver rods, hanging between paintings of the first Knights of Dremlock. At the tunnel's midpoint stood a silver statue of Kuran Darkender, the first Lord Knight, which was twenty feet tall and without blemish. A shield displaying the Crest of Dremlock was strapped to his arm, and his great sword was thrust towards the mouth of the cavern. His face was grim with a warning to all who dared enter here.
As Lannon gazed up at this statue, chills flooded his spine and he was suddenly swept away in glory. The strength and power of the Divine Knights swelled within him, challenging him to find honor and do great deeds.
As they passed around the statue, Cartlan gave it a slap and chuckled. "What's going on there, Big Pointy?"
The spell broken, Lannon glared at Cartlan. How could this cocky Squire Master refer to the greatest Knight ever as Big Pointy? That nickname made Kuran's giant, thrust-out sword seem somehow ridiculous rather than magnificent, and Lannon could not recapture the mood of before.
Farther along the tunnel stood another gate and another guardhouse, and beyond it was the tunnel's end. This Gatekeeper-a much smaller Knight than the last-sat in the building eating lunch. He came out and greeted Cartlan. He wore chain mail and had a sheathed short sword at his waist. Like the other Gatekeeper, a red sash was slung across his armor. His bearded face was weathered, his eyes kindly. He smiled at Lannon, showing badly yellowed teeth, and the boy took an instant liking to him.
"I guess I can let you two pass."
"Got a small one here, huh Findel?" said Cartlan, motioning towards Lannon. "The Tower Masters aren't too picky lately."
Findel shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he's a little on the skinny side, but who says all Knights need be muscle bound? To be honest, you aren't much in the way of strength yourself, Cartlan."
Cartlan's lips tightened, his voice becoming a bit shrill. "Whatever, Findel! I'm plenty strong and you know it!" His face burned crimson and he didn't look at Lannon. "So open the gate, because we're in a hurry."
"Patience, boy," said Findel, grinning. He casually strolled over and spun the wheel, which stopped with a click. Findel shoved the gate open and nodded, still grinning. He winked at Lannon and the lad smiled back.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all.
Lannon's heart pounded in anticipation of actually seeing Dremlock with his own eyes. Even now, he could scarcely believe he was riding into the kingdom built by Kuran Darkender. How had this all come about?
The ground of the plateau was rocky in places, mainly at the edges, yet it was mostly able to support plant life throughout. A well-worn road led away from the tunnel mouth into a forest of colossal pines. The sun hung in the open sky, though soon it would creep beyond the stone ridge, leaving the plateau in shadows. The three Towers of Dremlock were not visible here due to the trees.
"This plateau is amazing, don't you think?" said Cartlan. "This is the perfect place for a kingdom, if you ask me, because it's so well protected. Its as if
the mountain is reaching out to enclose Dremlock Kingdom. And yet a forest grows here within these stone walls. Some believe this plateau isn't a natural part of the mountain at all, that the White Guardian made it."
As they rode into Knightwood-as Cartlan called it-the Great Stable was the first building they encountered, a massive rectangular structure surrounded by bare earth and fences. The pines had been cleared away around the Stable. Standing within a fenced area were rails for jumping, targets for bow practice, and straw dummies for lancing and swordplay. Several Squires were engaged in training in this area, their weapons flashing in the sunlight. Lannon found the smell of the Stable less than appealing, but nothing compared to the stench of the Bloodlands. Cartlan took his horse inside and they continued from there on foot.
Just beyond the Stable, to the left of the road, stood Dremlock Cemetery, surrounded by a tall iron fence with a locked gate. Small stone crypts and weathered statues stood amongst the pines, leading back into the forest. Sunlight poured down from between the furry boughs onto the tombs, highlighting some in gold and leaving others in shadow-as if these sunlit tombs were somehow special. Goosebumps crept along Lannon's flesh.
"Lord Knights of the past are buried here," said Cartlan. He pointed to the largest crypt of all, which stood at off to one side and was nearly hidden by the pines. "That's Kuran Darkender's tomb-minus his body, of course, which was never found. I've always wanted to get a peek in that crypt."
"Can we go in there?" Lannon asked.
"This Cemetery is haunted," said Cartlan, ignoring his question. "I know all cemeteries are supposed to be haunted-but this one really is. There are Knightly spirits within that have not found rest. Don't ever come creeping around here at night, if you know what's good for you!"
"I won't," said Lannon, feeling another wave of goose bumps. "It looks closed, anyways." As he gazed into the cemetery, a strange image popped into his mind-that of a huge black hand swiping out at him from amid the tombs. He quickly turned his gaze elsewhere.
"The Cemetery is only open to the likes of us once per year," said Cartlan. "And then only in daylight. The caretaker alone goes in there the rest of the time. Yet Taris Warhawk has been known to venture in now and then, come to think of it. He’s into that sort of thing, I guess." And then he added in a whisper, "Goodness knows what he does out here, amongst all those corpses. I don't think you or I would want to know."