"You can ride on your own," said Dalvin. "I'm sure you know better than to try to escape. And I have faith that your word is good and that you won't try anything. I think you're an honorable lad." The Legion Master smiled and handed Lannon a pair of fur mittens. "These should be helpful."
Lannon knew Dalvin was simply trying to sway him to join the Blood Legion, but he was grateful for the mittens nonetheless.
"The going will be slow," said Dalvin, with the snow drifted so high and the terrain very steep in places, but we should reach Dorok's Hand by early afternoon." He patted Lannon on the shoulder. "We had a good talk last night. Master Vorden was wise to insist you be kept alive. In the short time I've known you, Lannon, I have come to trust that you'll do what is right."
Dalvin spoke in a sincere manner, yet Lannon saw through the compliments without even needing to use the Eye. But he simply nodded and said, "Thank you, Master Dalvin. I just hope we can resolve everything peacefully. Why should there have to be a war?"
"There will be no peace," said Dalvin, sighing. "Not with Dremlock coming to destroy us. The Knights will never leave us to our way of life, my young friend. In fact, they will try to kill us to the last Soldier."
Lannon said nothing, though he knew Dalvin was either sadly mistaken or merely putting on an act. The Knights would have gladly accepted the surrender of the Blood Legion. Yet Lannon saw a wonderful opportunity to warm up to his foes and pretend to give them what they wanted. They could not know that he was still fiercely loyal to Dremlock and had no plans to change sides.
As they passed on up into the mountains, Lannon wondered how far behind him the Knights of Dremlock rode. The clash between the two armies seemed inevitable, and the Squire shuddered at the thought of how much blood would be spilled. Like the Knights of Dremlock, some of the Legion Soldiers used sorcery (of a darker sort) and were well trained for battle. It would make for a horrific conflict.
"Soon you will be with your friend again," Dalvin said to Lannon in a low voice, his breath visible in the freezing air. "You would be wise to cooperate with him. The person you knew at Dremlock is gone forever."
"I can't believe that," said Lannon.
"Then you're a fool," said Dalvin. "If you go into Dorok's Hand with the notion of saving him, he'll kill you. He has no pity in his heart, Lannon."
"You hate him," said Lannon, seeing the contempt in Dalvin's gaze.
"To my very core," said Dalvin. "The fact that a mere boy rose through our ranks so quickly…it gnaws at me. I'm not the only one who feels that way-and he is well aware of it. Our anger amuses him."
"Will you betray him?" Lannon asked.
Dalvin scowled at the Squire. "And be a traitor to the Blood Legion? Never! And never speak of such a thing again! I'm merely trying to warn you that Vorden Flameblade is not the Squire you once knew. He is thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow and is completely unpredictable."
"Yet you want the Deep Shadow to prevail," said Lannon, "or you wouldn't be fighting against Dremlock. That makes no sense to me."
"Lies, taught to you by Dremlock," said Dalvin. "We want Silverland to live in harmony with Tharnin-to strike a bargain. We know it is possible. Yes, I despise the Deep Shadow just as you do, but this is a war that Dremlock can never win. The Blood Legion was formed as an alternative to Dremlock-a better way of bringing peace to the land. Yet instead of letting us do what must be done, the Knights have ruined our plans constantly over the centuries."
Lannon pondered Dalvin's words-and rejected them. Striking a bargain with Tharnin would undoubtedly mean the expansion of the Bloodlands and endless numbers of Goblins terrorizing the land. Dalvin seemed delusional-his mind twisted in ways he wasn't even aware of. A quiet groan escaped Lannon's lips at the thought that he was now surrounded by madmen, many of whom had been contaminated by the Deep Shadow and didn't even know it.
***
Dorok's Hand was an ancient Legion stronghold that had never been breached. The entrance was a forty-foot-tall cave mouth that led into the mountain, sealed by gates made of enormous logs. The fortress took its name from a towering, rune-covered statue, carved from the mountain wall, of a bearded warrior that stood beside the entrance, his hand outstretched as if to descend upon those who dared enter. Archers and Soldiers who tended catapults lined wooden platforms to either side, on high alert. Lannon gazed up in awe, imagining the terror that would reign down on Dremlock's army from those heights. Everywhere he looked were huge bodies, grim faces, and row upon row of weapons. And smaller cave entrances lined the mountain on either side, no doubt harboring more foes.
"What do you think of our divine kingdom, Lannon?" asked Dalvin, grinning broadly. "I'll bet you weren't expecting anything like this."
Lannon didn't reply. His throat seemed too dry for speech, the terror surging within him. The reality of what this war would mean-the epic loss of life-was finally clear to him. The terrain leading up to the cave mouth was sloped, and Lannon could imagine dying Knights and horses tumbling downward through the bloodstained snow. But beyond all that, the mouth of the savage fortress seemed ready to devour him. He wondered if he was entering a lair from which he would never return. It seemed only torment, madness, and death awaited him within. Lannon had never felt further away from the small cabin in the woods, where he'd grown up with his mother and father secluded from the outside world, than he did now.
Lannon tried to be strong, to think like a Divine Knight, but he didn't seem to possess the courage. He clung to a grain of confidence from knowing he still possessed the Eye of Divinity-a mysterious power that had never been clearly understood and struck fear into the hearts of Dremlock's enemies. But Lannon was shaking in his boots with a terror of the unknown that was so potent it was almost unbearable, as he wondered what horrors lay beyond that massive gate. His eyes kept straying back to the towering statue of the warrior, and he envisioned the great stone hand descending to crush him.
"Calm yourself, lad," Dalvin said. "Your face is as pale as the snow. Don't panic and do anything foolish."
"I'm fine," Lannon said, though that was far from the truth. In spite of all that had happened to him since becoming a Squire of Dremlock, he was still a young, frightened lad with a vivid imagination. But he was also filled with determination to find a way to avoid war-and that one hope rested with Vorden. As leader of the Blood Legion, Vorden might be able to call a truce if Lannon could find a way to reason with him-and if any of his former self still existed.
Dalvin pointed at warrior statue. "Dorok, the great Legion Master who made this our kingdom. The runes on his robe play tricks on your mind, Lannon, and enhance your terror. You can resist them."
Lannon understood, and he fought to block the sorcery from invading his mind. Grudgingly, some of his fright slipped away.
A horn sounded, and Soldiers seized ropes and pulled the huge gates open. The battalion surrendered their horses to the men at the gates and walked through into the mountain cavern, which was lit by rows of large torches that were connected to pillars that had been hewn from the rock walls. Massive crimson vines wound around the pillars-living plants that Lannon didn't recognize. At the end of the entrance tunnel were the mouths of three smaller tunnels. They took the one on the far right and followed it on a downward slope into the earth. Soldiers and trained Goblins wandered the tunnels-the latter causing Lannon to shudder. He couldn't imagine sharing living quarters with creatures of the Deep Shadow.
"Where are we going?" Lannon asked.
"To our forge," said Dalvin. "I was instructed to bring you there. Don't bother asking why, because I have no idea." He handed Lannon his Dragon sword. "You're not a prisoner anymore, if you ever really were. You're entitled to your weapon."