Willan Shadowwalker, the other Blue Knight of the company, knelt by the body and groaned. "He was my friend, and I fought with him through many battles. I thought he would live forever."
"I should have listened to you, Jace," said Taris. "My impatience got the best of me, and now a Knight is dead."
"Perhaps," said Jace, "but this could have happened regardless. Or even more could have died."
"It might not have been necessary," said Lannon, feeling horrible inside. "I could have saved myself. The Eye would have protected me."
"Don't ever speak such words," Taris said, whirling around, his scarred face twisted in anger. "Zannin swore an oath to protect you, and he fulfilled that oath. You should feel nothing but gratitude over his actions."
Lannon nodded. "I just didn't want this to happen." He hadn't known Zannin, but that didn't make the burden any easier to bear.
"He did what he felt he needed to do," said Jace, shrugging. "Don't blame yourself, Lannon. Things like this happen."
"Willan, you will take his body back to Dremlock," said Taris. "I will replace you at Lannon's side."
"Afterwards, I will return and fulfill my vow," said Willan.
"No," said Taris. "You will remain at Dremlock and mourn your friend. You can fulfill your vow later."
Willan nodded, his eyes haunted by his pain.
Taris started to say something more, but then his eyes glazed over. He reached up and touched the scars that covered half of his face. His legs sagged beneath him and he collapsed to one knee.
Jace grabbed his shoulder. "What ails you?"
"My wound is not fully healed," said Taris.
Instinctively, Lannon focused the Eye of Divinity on Taris' face. He could see creeping shadows, like tiny serpents, slithering over Taris' scarred flesh. These fragments of dark sorcery caused pain and doubt, but somehow the sorcerer hid it well most of the time. Taris was fighting a fierce battle of wills with the evil sorcery that was still trying to burrow deeper into his being. Lannon was appalled at how much pain Taris was experiencing-and he was amazed at the sorcerer's endurance. The injury was terrifying, and it made Lannon all the more reluctant to engage in his forthcoming duel.
Taris took Timlin aside and chastised him for fleeing. Lannon couldn't hear what was being said, but he could see that Timlin's face was red with shame. At one point, Timlin turned and started to walk away, but Taris seized his tunic and whirled him around, obviously not finished with the lad.
The mood was somber as the Knights lit a pyre for the fallen horse. The grim faces told the tale-that everyone was thinking of the slain Knight. Taris knelt before the fire and bowed his head, as if in prayer. The others did the same, except for Jace, who stood leaning against a tree and smoking a pipe.
When the ritual was finished, they resumed their trek down the mountain. A steady spring rain began to fall, adding to their woes. They passed a few inns where they could have taken refuge-including the Knights Lore Inn, where Lannon had stayed during his initial journey to Dremlock. But the company was determined to ride on and make the most of daylight. By the time the terrain leveled off, they were soaked to the skin and splashed with mud.
Lannon sat hunched in the saddle, rain dripping from his face, the death of Zannin weighing heavily on his heart and the dread of the impending duel haunting his mind. It seemed utterly foolish to ride out and abandon Dremlock, as if they were content to blunder into an obvious trap that had already cost the life of a Knight. He wanted to complain to Taris about it, but he knew Taris would only react with anger. He was on his way to the duel and that was that.
Lannon noticed, however, that Taris kept glancing his way. Lannon ignored it at first, too sullen and miserable to question the sorcerer. But at last he muttered, "Is something wrong, Master Taris?"
"You saw deeper into my wound," said Taris, running his fingers over the scars on his face, beneath his hood. "You glimpsed my pain, my struggle."
"I saw…shadows," said Lannon, shrugging.
"It struck fear in your heart," said Taris, nodding at his own words. "You can't accept the fact that we are forcing you-a mere Squire of Dremlock-to fight in what could be a duel to the death."
"I don't understand it," said Lannon, grateful for a chance to voice his feelings. "I don't feel ready for this."
"You are training to be a Divine Knight," said Taris. "Both Knights and Squires are sometimes called upon to fight duels. There is nothing unusual about this. We have fought duels against the Blood Legion for centuries, and we have solved many disputes that way. You must bear in mind that ours is a holy kingdom that serves the Divine Essence. We are sworn to protect Dremlock at all costs. Serving our god is more important even than living, and if we can serve it better by sacrificing our lives in combat, then that is what we must do."
Lannon nodded, but he wasn't fond of Taris' words. Lannon didn't want to die for any reason-even for the Divine Essence. "You're right," he mumbled. "It is my duty, of course."
"But you don't believe I'm right," said Taris, smiling. "You wonder why you should risk your life for a shattered god that looks like a lump of crystal-a god who you're not even allowed to cast your gaze upon. Do not lie to me."
Lannon sighed. "I guess you know me well, Master Taris."
"I know what I see, lad," said Taris. "But let me tell you that a real Divine Knight is not born from study and training. When the time comes, you will do what you must do. The fact that you ride with us now is proof of that." Taris winked at him. "If I were to call off this journey, you would question me. And if you thought calling it off was a bad decision, you would press me to continue on."
Lannon considered Taris' words, but he wasn't as sure about them as the sorcerer seemed to be. "Do you really think so?"
"I do," said Taris. "You have far more courage than you know."
"Not as much as you have," said Lannon.
"Yes, my wound runs deep," said Taris, his face darkening. "It threatens my mind-evil sorcery that bites into my flesh, again and again. In all my years, I have never experienced anything this terrible."
"You shouldn't be on the journey," said Lannon. "You need rest."
"I will rest soon enough," said Taris. "When I retire."
Lannon's eyes widened. "Retire? You can't retire!"
"I certainly can," said Taris. "I have earned the right. And I am weary to the core. The agony I suffer is taking quite a toll on me, young Squire. I'm not the same man who rode with you to Dremlock."
"There must be a way to heal you," said Lannon, struggling to imagine Dremlock without Taris Warhawk. "What about the Eye of Divinity?"
"The Eye does not heal," said Taris. "It gains knowledge and moves objects. I have never heard of the Eye being used as a healing method."
"But the dark sorcery is like an enemy," said Lannon. "Maybe I could seize it and…and get rid of it somehow."
"No," said Taris, "it is more like a disease that requires special healing. If the White Knights of Dremlock cannot cure me, I am finished as a Divine Knight. I'll retire to my forest kingdom of Borenthia, where my pain can be managed. And there I will live in peace and let my body age naturally until death ends my suffering. My body cannot endure much more, and soon I will be forced to ride to my homeland and seek the council of the Birlote Wizards."
Lannon nodded. He hated the thought of Taris leaving Dremlock, but he understood the sorcerer's reasons. "We'll find some way to cure you, Master Taris. I know we will. I need your guidance."
"If we can obtain the gauntlet that inflicted my wound," said Taris, "and study it, there might be a chance of finding a way to rid my body of this infection. Now, do you still want to end this quest and return to Dremlock?"
Lannon found, to his surprise, that he wanted to continue on. He wanted to help Taris at all costs. "No, I'll find some way to win that duel, and we'll claim the gauntlet."