Vorden smiled at Lannon and leapt up onto the stairs. He started down, as if he needed no torchlight to find his way.
Lannon and the others quickly followed.
At the bottom of the stairs were two doors of Glaetherin-one on the right and one on the left, with a wheel lock at the center of each. Lannon let the Eye probe the door on the right, peering beyond it into the passage. He glimpsed a powerful force up ahead, though from this distance he couldn't make out anything about it except that it was not an evil power. Beyond the left door, he sensed something dark and powerful-and quite evil-that he didn't dwell on for more than an instant.
"We should go right," he said, his body trembling.
Vorden nodded. "Whatever you say, Lannon. Lead the way."
Lannon focused the Eye on the wheel lock, and it took him only a moment to solve it. Then the door stood open.
Jerret gasped in amazement. "Lannon, how did you do that? Those things are supposed to be impossible to solve."
"He does that all the time," said Aldreya, shaking her head. "Don't bother asking, because apparently he likes to keep it to himself."
Lannon felt a surge of pride, but could think of nothing to say for a moment. At last he shrugged and said, "I guess I just have the gift."
Lannon suddenly began to feel ill and weary. His stomach felt heavy. It seemed the Eye had been out too long and had revealed too much. He needed a break from it. Having accomplished this major task in solving the wheel lock, he drew the Eye all the way into himself, and the halves of his mind merged into one.
As the Squires started through the doorway, a noise behind them made them jump. Someone was coming down the steps-heavy footsteps and panting. They froze in horror, not even able to ready their weapons, while the figure descended.
"Hey!" a familiar voice called out. "Don't forget about me."
A tall, burly form stepped into the torchlight. It was Clayith Ironback.
The others breathed sighs of relief.
"You scared the wits out of us!" whispered Jerret. "But I'm glad to see you. How did you find this place in the storm?"
Clayith shrugged. "I just got lucky, I suppose." His skin was pale, his hair and eyebrows frosted with snow and ice. He licked his lips. "It wasn't so bad, you know. Just follow the east wind, like winter's breath…"
"What?" said Jerret. "Are you alright? You look like a snowman."
Clayith laughed. "No, I'm just fine. Hey, that purple thing's up ahead, you know. We should go deal with it." He cleared his throat, looking confused.
"Purple thing?" said Lannon. "Oh, you mean the Divine Essence. Right, let's get going. I think we're past the hard part now."
They passed through the doorway and found themselves moving down a short hallway. The hallway ended at a trapdoor, which bore a huge iron padlock.
"It's all yours, Timlin," said Lannon.
Timlin knelt down, and a moment later the lock was open. "I'm getting faster," he said, grinning, while the others looked on in admiration.
Vorden lifted the trap door, revealing an iron ladder that stretched down beyond the torchlight. The sound of running water came from below.
The ladder looked sturdy, and they immediately started down, with Vorden in the lead. They descended about thirty feet and ended up in a round stone chamber. Four tunnels lad away from the chamber, but three of them had been sealed permanently with solid barriers of Glaetherin that bore no locks. Flowing through the middle of the cavern was a little stream that came out of a hole in one wall and disappeared through a hole in the opposite wall. The chamber, and the stream, looked like natural formations.
"I guess we've got one choice," said Vorden.
His heart pounding with anxiety and growing excitement, Lannon hurried towards the open cavern. As they passed along it, they could see shards of multi-colored crystal protruding from the rock.
"We're getting close!" Lannon breathed excitedly.
"Ugly things!" muttered Clayith. "Those crystals hurt my head."
The others heard him, but paid little heed. They were bent on seeing the Divine Essence and nothing could distract them. The cavern curved up ahead, and the crystals became the walls, replacing the stone. The Squires could feel optimism building in their minds. As the light of truth fell upon them, they felt like anything was possible, that all would work out for a greater purpose. Behind them, Clayith began to whimper.
As they rounded the curve, the light became radiant, and then before them, in the chamber of fantastically colored crystal, stood the three purple Flamestones that made up the Mind of the White Guardian. Tall, pointy gems rising from a flat base, they were narrow at the bottom and widened out at the top. They were spaced unevenly apart, forming a triangle. The gems were rugged, a bit misshapen-far from the perfection the Squires had been imagining. Yet the Divine Essence was revealed at last, and the Squires were swept away with emotions, bathed in a wondrous glow of truth. Vorden and Timlin stood transfixed, while Jerret dropped to his knees.
"The King of Dremlock!" Aldreya breathed. Then she knelt next to Jerret.
Instantly Lannon's mind split of its own accord, and the Eye of Divinity came forth-as if being pulled out of him. It surged straight into the Divine Essence. It showed him things about the Essence that astounded him. Despite everything the Knights of Dremlock seemed to believe, this was not some all-knowing god. This was a lonely child with an uncertain future, a child partially destroyed yet still clinging to life. It was a lone candle burning in the darkness, struggling to give hope, yet threatened from all sides by the swarming shadows.
Lannon was overcome with a desire to help this child, to make it whole again and allow it to grow. But that was beyond his power. The White Guardian was no more-just shattered fragments that still pulsed with life.
Lannon was deeply saddened, and in his despair, the Eye of Divinity drew back inside him. Yet even as it retracted it revealed images, and he glimpsed a dark danger just behind him. Someone else in this chamber, like the Essence, was lonely and suffering-a puppet controlled by rage and hatred. In his mind he saw the poison blade slice the air towards his back, but he saw it too late to take action.
Lannon screamed as the cold steel pierced his shoulder. His body went numb and his legs gave out. He collapsed, but for a moment he remained coherent and was able to lift his head long enough to glimpse what was happening around him. He heard shouts, and he saw Vorden leap across the floor towards Clayith. Clayith was holding a black dagger, and his eyes gleamed with insanity. Vorden's axe bore down upon the burly Squire. Then Lannon's mind went black.
Chapter 12: Squires on Trial
When Lannon awoke, he was lying on a bed in a huge rectangular room. The room was lined with beds, and had much greenery in it, with tall plants in the corners and flowered vines growing on the walls and twined around some of the bedposts. A stone fountain stood at the center of the chamber, with statues of tiny, mythical Fairy Goblins in dancing poses around the water flow. Some of the beds were occupied by wounded Knights, who were being tended to by White Knights. Lannon recognized none of the wounded by name, but he had seen a few of them before.
Standing over Lannon was Vesselin Hopebringer, the ancient Lord of the White Knights. Firelight gave a red tint to his flowing silver hair and beard as he leaned forward with his gnarled hand clutching one of the bedposts. Vesselin smiled. "It is good that you have awakened, Lannon. I was very concerned. Yet it appears that you shall fully recover."
Recent memories flooded Lannon's mind, and he groaned, wondering where he was and how much time had passed. His throat felt as dry as dust, the flesh feeling ready to crack apart. He couldn't feel any pain his shoulder where Clayith's blade had struck, but he couldn't bring himself to probe the injury to see if it was healed. He simply waited for Vesselin to explain things.