The Hand of Tharnin

Lannon sheathed the sword. "Thank you."

"No need to thank me," said Dalvin. "I know that sword-which is a fine blade by the way-spends most of its time in its sheath. Taking away your blade is kind of pointless, when your true power comes from within. Tell me something, Lannon. Why did you allow us to bring you here without putting up a fight?"

"I don't want anyone to die," said Lannon, with a shrug. "I guess…I guess I came here hoping to find peace."

Dalvin nodded. "You are indeed a noble lad. But life will soon teach you the way things truly are. Everything ends in violence and death these days."

"I can't accept that," said Lannon.

Dalvin shook his head in amusement.

"This is an impressive fortress," said Lannon, still intimidated by the size of everything. "I never imagined it would be so big."

"Yes, it's quite a sight," said Dalvin, his voice full of pride. It is filled with chambers and tunnels-not unlike the mines below Dremlock. This used to be called New Hammer Hall-the kingdom of the Grey Dwarves. Yes, there is an Old Hammer Hall, higher up in the Bonefrost Mountains. The Dwarves were masters at breeding plants that grow underground, and some of their ancient gardens still exist down here and provide us with food. They are amazing to look upon. Just wait until you see some of the mushrooms, which are as large as tents."

"If I live long enough," Lannon said gloomily.

"No reason you shouldn't, lad," said Dalvin. "You were taken prisoner for a reason, and you've been very cooperative. You'll get a good report from me. It's all up to you, Lannon. You can choose to join us and live an honorable life, or you can choose to stand against us and perhaps die as a fool fighting for the wrong reasons."

"You're very sure of yourself," Lannon mumbled.

Dalvin seized his tunic and brought his scarred face close to Lannon's own. "Yes, lad, I am very sure of myself! I've been fighting this war for decades, with never a doubt in my mind about whether or not it is right. Can you say the same for life at Dremlock? No, your mind is full of doubts."

A huge Jackal Goblin walked past them, accompanied by two Soldiers. It fixed its yellow eyes on Lannon and drool dripped from its muzzle. Lannon looked away, disgusted. "Yet you have doubts about the Deep Shadow," he said to Dalvin, motioning toward the Jackal. "You fear it."

"The Blood Legion stands alone," said Dalvin. "Tharnin works with us for a mutual goal-it does not rule us."

"How can you say that?" said Lannon, "considering who your leader is? I saw what happened to Vorden-what he became. I was there!"

Dalvin's face looked troubled, but defiant. "It doesn't matter. Vorden is just one man, and he obeys our laws ultimately. He must act for the good of the Legion. And I'm not going to argue with you, Lannon. As I said, the choice is yours. I did my part in delivering you here and I bear no further responsibility for what happens to you. You're not even a grown man yet and cannot distinguish truth from lies. In time, you will come to understand and willingly join our cause. As I said, a sorcerer of your talents would be very welcome here."

Dalvin glanced nervously along the tunnel and then lowered his voice. "But bear in mind that if you choose to spit on us and remain loyal to Dremlock for even an instant, I'm sure your old friend will crush you without a second thought. And I assure you, he loves to crush people. There is not a man in Dorok's Hand who isn't terrified of him, including myself."

"Vorden is not a killer," said Lannon, though he knew it was probably a silly thing to say. Surely, Vorden had no pity left in his heart. The Hand of Tharnin had likely stolen all of it away.

Dalvin chuckled. "Poor naive lad." He motioned Lannon along. "Anyway, we've talked enough. I actually like you, Lannon, and I wish you well. But now you must go to your fate-whatever it may be."

Lannon was left in silence to contemplate that fate as he was led to the Forge. He didn't actually enter the chambers where weapons and armor were crafted, but instead was led to a round cavern where barrels and crates stood-a storage room where Vorden and Timlin were chatting with a Soldier. A man-a Legion Soldier by the look of him-was bound with ropes nearby and slumped against a barrel, looking defiant yet terrified. Vorden's face was contorted in anger, his helm held in the crook of his arm. He gestured toward the bound prisoner as he talked.

When Vorden spotted Lannon, he broke off the conversation and hurried over, with Timlin at his side. Like Vorden, Timlin wore magnificent armor-white and blue in Timlin's case-that moved fluidly with his body. A sense of unreality washed over Lannon. He was reunited with his two friends and former Squires at last, but the circumstances were so bizarre Lannon could barely make sense of it. How had things come to this, and so quickly? He knew it was the Hand of Tharnin that had made it possible-that ultimate weapon of the Deep Shadow that could change the fate of the one it possessed in an instant. And by the devilish glint in Timlin's eyes, Lannon could see that the gauntlet's influence had extended to him as well. As they approached him, they moved like confident royalty-men of importance who were used to being obeyed. Lannon barely recognized them.

Vorden smiled in an obvious attempt to put him at ease-but his yellow eyes betrayed him. "Glad you could make it, my friend. I hope you were treated well on your journey." He started to pat Lannon on the shoulder with the Hand of Tharnin, but when Lannon flinched away, he switched hands for the task and chuckled. "Do not fear me, Lannon. I won't harm you."

Timlin nodded but didn't smile. His eyes were icy. "Lannon, good to see you again. Welcome to Dorok's hand."

Lannon sighed. "I see you've accomplished your goal, Timlin."

"Yes," said Timlin, finally giving a hint of a smile. "I'm now a Legion Soldier. Actually, I'm a Legion Knight, and second in command. It wasn't easy getting here, though, but well worth the struggle."

Lannon wasn't sure what to say and stood in silence. At last he said, "So now that I'm here, what is to be done with me?"

"I was hoping you would join us, of course," said Vorden. "When I spared your life and warned you not to come north-I knew you would come anyway. You've got the blood of a hero in your veins, Lannon. I expected nothing less than for you to end up standing before me."

Lannon shook his head in disbelief. "But attempts were made on my life, Vorden. You must have wanted me dead."

"Nonsense," said Vorden, waving in a dismissive gesture. "I knew you would survive. My real goal all along was to take you prisoner, though I knew it would be difficult. Are you referring to the Pit Crawler? I did not plan that attack, first of all. I was busy searching for Timlin when that took place. And the goal was not to kill you but to paralyze you and bring you to us."

"A Knight was killed by that creature!" said Lannon, wondering if reasoning with Vorden was even a remote possibility.

Vorden shrugged. "What of it, Lannon? Knights are going to die…a lot of them. We're at war, in case you forgot. And I warned you that when you came north, you would find that the Squire you knew at Dremlock was no more. I don't mind killing, now. In fact, I rather enjoy it. It makes me feel powerful."

Lannon was overwhelmed by disgust, but he hid his feelings. "I'm here to try to stop the killing, Vorden, to put an end to this war."

"You can't stop it," said Vorden, smiling. "If that's why you came here, you would have done better just to flee back to Dremlock. The Knights are on the way, Lannon. But they'll never enter Dorok's hand."

"Never," Timlin echoed, his hand on his bow. He looked more mature somehow, hardened and ready to kill.