"I need torchlight to do this task," Jace muttered.
"I see something," said Lannon. "Lights." He blinked his eyes. The red lights were gone, and he wasn't sure he'd actually seen them.
"It was your imagination," said Jace, looking uncertain. He raised his eyebrows. "The Temple door was locked, so logic dictates nothing could possibly be in here. Now give me some torchlight to work with."
Lannon started to turn, and the crimson lights appeared again-but this time they hurtled toward him with a flapping of wings. He watched, stunned, as a man-sized, bat-shaped form leapt onto him. Claws ripped into Lannon's chest as he was lifted up and flung atop the altar, the monstrosity lying on top of him. It was a Bloodfang-a type of Goblin that could shred flesh from bone in seconds.
The Eye of Divinity sprang to life on instinct, and Lannon was able to freeze the creature before it could tear him to pieces. The Bloodfang's strength was enormous, and Lannon struggled to hold it in place. He cried out to Jace for help, yet he was certain Jace could do nothing. Even though Jace was a former Knight and supposedly some kind of sorcerer, he carried no weapons and just didn't seem like someone who would be skilled in a fight.
Drool dripped on Lannon's cheek, as the crimson eyes glowered down on him with rage. Lannon gagged on its stench-the stench of its body, its breath, and its evil aura. The creature was the most hideous thing Lannon had ever seen-a bat-like abomination of claws, teeth, and insane fury. Intelligence gleamed in the beast's dark eyes, a sinister knowledge of how to kill. Its rage was so potent it seemed to break the power of the Eye of Divinity, and the fangs descended toward Lannon's throat. Lannon was certain everything was going to end on that altar.
Then Jace's huge, bony fist crashed down on the Bloodfang's skull. The Bloodfang leapt off of Lannon, let out a wounded screech, and flung itself at Jace. Jace struck it again with an astoundingly swift blow to the head while sidestepping the creature's charge.
The Bloodfang staggered, its wings quivering and dark blood pouring from its mouth. Then it finally collapsed into a trembling heap. It shuddered violently a few times and then stopped moving.
Jace rubbed his knuckles. "That kind of hurt."
Lannon sat up, gazing in disbelief at the fallen Bloodfang. "You…you killed it with your bare hand?"
Jace shrugged. "Not exactly. It's a sorcery technique." He shone the torch around, and finding no further danger, checked Lannon's wounds. "In ancient times," he went on, "the technique of the empty hand-or Shattering Fist-was common among the Knights of Dremlock. It went out of style as more advanced weapon enchanting skills were developed. Later, it was ruled forbidden sorcery for some foolish reason. Anyway, I may be the only one left who practices it."
"It seems quite powerful," said Lannon, grimacing in pain as Jace probed his chest. "How badly am I injured?"
"You could stand to pay a visit to the Hall of Healing," said Jace. He sighed. "Although…questions will be asked. A Bloodfang is not poisonous, though, in spite of what most people believe." He smiled. "Remember, I'm an expert on Goblins. I wrote the book on them."
Lannon stared at the Bloodfang, feeling sick inside. "It nearly killed me." He clutched his forehead in frustration and groaned. "It seems like someone or something is always trying to kill me lately. I'm not sure how much more of this I can take. I'm not sure I even want to be a Knight anymore. I'd rather stay alive."
"Sorry to inform you," said Jace, "but it's too late to consider that. Even if you left Dremlock, your foes would hunt you down. You're too much of a threat for them to ignore. You're better off under the protection of this kingdom."
"I guess you're right," Lannon said, his voice heavy with gloom.
"Regardless," said Jace, "here we have another assassination attempt, but how could the creature have gotten in here? Someone must have unlocked the Temple door, and then locked it again. But how would they have known we were planning to… Unless the creature slipped in behind us somehow." Jace wiped sweat from his brow. "I need to stay more alert. That should not have happened."
"I just want to go back to my room," said Lannon. "If, that is, you think I can heal up on my own."
"The wounds aren't very deep," said Jace. "You should be fine with some rest and meditation. Though you'll be a bit sore for a day or two. We can try again when you're feeling up to it. Just make sure to use your cloak to conceal your injuries from the guards, or you will be questioned. I'm going to stay and examine this creature. I'll meet up with you later."
"I don't have a torch," said Lannon. "The woods are very dark." He shuddered at the thought of walking the trail alone.
"Nevertheless," said Jace, "you better get going. Use the Eye of Divinity to guide you and warn you of danger."
Lannon hesitated, afraid to summon the Eye.
Jace touched Lannon's shoulder, and the lad's fear diminished. Jace seemed to harbor some strange power in his touch that could put Lannon instantly at ease. "You should fear the blinding darkness, Lannon. Not your sorcery. Now if you'll excuse me, I really must set to work on examining this foul creature."
Lannon nodded and left. He didn't feel up to much of anything beyond hiding in his room and hoping all of his troubles would go away on their own.
***
When Lannon arrived at his room, the guards gave him a stern reminder that he wasn't to go anywhere without them, but they didn't report him (perhaps to save themselves from being questioned). Once in his room, Lannon found Vorden awake and sitting on his bed. Vorden seemed relaxed and in good spirits.
"Good to see you're still alive," said Vorden.
"Keep your voice down," said Lannon, sitting on his own bed. His chest throbbed in pain but wasn't bleeding. "And I'm actually quite lucky to be alive. I was attacked by a Bloodfang. I'll likely have a few scars."
"A Bloodfang?" Vorden's dark eyes widened. "I remember the one we saw beneath the Old Keep. You are lucky to be alive."
Lannon rubbed his temples. "I don't know what to do, Vorden. Everything is in chaos. Taris and Furlus are wounded. And now I'm stuck with this crazy Jace fellow who I'm not sure I can trust. Furlus told me to take the fight to my foes, but where do I begin? I don't even know who my foes are, or where they might be lurking. All I know is that my enemies want me dead."
"You're kind of at a crossroads," said Vorden. "Things are happening all around you, but you're not sure which path to take."
Timlin sat up. "All evil seems to come from below Dremlock. Maybe you should go down there."
"I'd rather not," said Lannon, chilled at Timlin's suggestion. The dreary, Goblin-infested mining area below Dremlock was the last place he cared to visit. There seemed to be nothing down there but evil and death.
"We could go together," said Vorden, "like last time. If Tenneth Bard is still alive and behind all of this, we could finish him off." Vorden reached under the bed and brought forth a dark sword that seemed adorned with spider-web runes. It was the sword he'd found in the mines and said he'd gotten rid of. "Yeah, I still have it. And I still intend to behead Tenneth Bard with it."
Lannon groaned, overwhelmed by frustration. "Vorden, you said you'd tossed that thing down a well. Now I have this to worry about."
"That sword is evil," said Timlin. "It will destroy you, Vorden."
Vorden chuckled. "Enough with the silly doom and gloom talk. This is not an evil sword. It does bear some unknown enchantment…something very interesting. Little shadows…" He turned the blade over, and for an instant, tiny, shadowy spiders seemed to be crawling on his flesh. His face looked unusually pale. Then his appearance became normal again.