Furlus seized Lannon's arm. "How are you, lad?"
"I'm fine," said Lannon, his gaze straying again to Furlus' injured leg. Furlus had always seemed invincible, a Dwarven wall of muscle and power that nothing could breech. Now he looked old and helpless, his great bulk something to only weigh him down. Lannon hated what he saw and wished he could help.
"I've seen better days myself," said Furlus. "And so has old Taris. Poor fellow had half of his face burned into ruin."
Lannon swallowed hard and could think of nothing to say.
"I called you in here to warn you," said Furlus. "I fear that Dremlock is…" His eyes settled shut and then popped open. "I fear that Dremlock is doomed. No one can be trusted anymore, not even your closest friends."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled, his heart full of pity for the Tower Master. "Just try to rest and heal up."
"No one should waste time worrying about me," Furlus grunted, looking annoyed. "I'm talking about you, Lannon! You may be Dremlock's only hope. Only the Eye of Divinity can see through the wall of shadows that conceals the plans of our enemies. Cordus and Taris didn't want to burden you with the truth. But it's time for you to understand just how important you are. The Knights of Dremlock are running out of options and resources. So we…we…" His eyes slipped shut again beneath his drooping brows.
"Rest up," Lannon whispered, and he started to turn away.
But Furlus' hand again tightened around Lannon's arm, and the Tower Master opened his eyes. "The medicine has made me tired, but I'm not finished yet. I want to say that I no longer think the Knights can protect you-not when two Tower Masters are crushed with ease. You nearly were killed down there in the Deep Forge. It took everything Taris had to save you."
"Then what can I do?" said Lannon, panic rising within him.
"You must learn to think like a Knight," said Furlus. "You've got to thicken your skin a bit and take the battle to your foes."
"I don't understand what you mean," said Lannon.
"Indeed," said Furlus, "and therein lies the problem. "You're thinking in defensive terms, but a Knight must sometimes go on the attack. Hunt down your foes-the foes of Dremlock-and destroy them before they destroy you."
Lannon shuddered at the thought of hunting down the demon man, or Tenneth Bard (if the Black Knight still lived). "Where do I even begin, Furlus? I'm still just a Squire who has to obey the rules."
"I don't know where you begin," said Furlus, shaking his head "and now that I'm bedridden I cannot help you. I'm certain I will heal from this, but it will take awhile. Regardless, you have to decide for yourself. But I feel very strongly about one thing-if you simply try to hide from your enemies, eventually they will find you and kill you. You must go to them and make them hide from you. And even then, hope may be slim at best."
Lannon sighed. "I'll do what I can, Master Furlus."
"And one more thing," said Furlus. "Don't…" His eyes settled closed. "Don't worry about anything but…" He broke into snores.
Lannon turned away, put his face in his hands, and groaned. Everything was falling apart, and his life was in grave danger. Lannon had never felt as terrified, alone, and as miserable in his entire life as he did now. His future seemed lost in darkness, his dream of being a great Knight in a shining kingdom soured into unrecognizable swill.
"Why did I ever come here?" Lannon said aloud.
"Let me guess," came a cheerful reply. "The rice pudding?"
"What?" Lannon lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall man-nearly seven feet in height-dressed in an extravagant, purple cloak with gold trim. He was clean shaven, with a smooth, youthful face and a curly black hair. His grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he puffed at a pipe.
"What?" Lannon said again.
"The rice pudding," said the stranger. "You asked why you came here, and that was my answer. Who doesn't love the rice pudding at Dremlock?"
Lannon was at a loss for words.
The stranger extended his hand. "Jace Lancelord."
Lannon shook it. "Ah, the one who wrote the books." For some reason Lannon couldn't explain, he felt instantly at ease.
"As you might know," said Jace, "I have been hired to solve the riddle of the gauntlet that nearly took your life. And you're going to help me. However, the Knights don't trust me, so two of them will be following us everywhere." He rolled his eyes. "They're outside the room right now. Charming fellows."
"Where should we begin?" Lannon asked.
"I'll actually do most of the riddle solving on my own," said Jace. "I doubt I'll require much help from you. I already suspect we're dealing with a threat that Dremlock is ill-prepared for. In fact, as one who has studied the history of this kingdom and its war with the Deep Shadow extensively, I think this could be one of the greatest threats Dremlock has ever faced. Solving the riddle of the gauntlet and the demon man is one task-but there is a larger puzzle here. I think we'll need to consult with the wisest of the wise to know how we should proceed."
"Taris Warhawk?" said Lannon.
Jace smiled. "Yes, I have heard of Taris' legendary wisdom, but that's not who I had in mind." He puffed at his pipe.
Lannon waited, but Jace said nothing. Finally he asked, "Well, who are you talking about?"
"Tell me a bit about yourself," said Jace.
Lannon was annoyed that Jace had changed the subject, but he did as the sorcerer wished-revealing much of what had happened since he'd come to Dremlock. He felt totally at ease revealing his secrets, though he wasn't sure why. Jace listened quietly, giving only an occasional nod.
Jace looked deep in thought. "Tenneth Bard, huh? I suppose it's possible he could still be alive, but that would make him far older even than myself-and I've walked this land for nearly two-hundred years, which is an amazing feat when you consider that death lurks all around us. For Tenneth Bard to have lived that long, he must be quite powerful-far beyond anything I can imagine."
Lannon shuddered, thinking of the violet, insane eyes burning in the darkness amidst a mass of shifting shadows. Some voice whispered from deep within him that if Lannon lived long enough, he would have to face Tenneth Bard yet again. It was a destiny that only death would allow him to escape. Yet the threat of the demon man seemed even more immediate and terrifying. Lannon didn't feel strong enough or well-trained enough to deal with such monstrous foes.
"There is a lot going on here at Dremlock lately," said Jace, shaking his head in amazement. "It wasn't like this way back when I was a young Knight. I've just met you, but I already fear for your future, Lannon. It's a shame that a lad like you should bear such heavy burdens. You're just a young, frightened Squire, yet Dremlock is content to shove you into danger because of the power you possess."
Lannon nodded. The two stood facing each other, and the silence grew awkward between them. Jace sighed and scratched his head.
"So what should we do now?" said Lannon.
"I don't know," said Jace. "What to do…what to do…?" He mumbled something under his breath.
Lannon fidgeted, wondering if Jace was going to make up his mind. He seemed like he had no plan.
"Have you been doing some studying on me?" Jace asked, nodding to the two books Lannon held. "You won't find much in those. I wrote them a long time ago and a lot about me has changed since then."
"Gifts from my father," Lannon explained.
"Your father must be a wise man," said Jace, winking.
Again, an awkward silence followed. Jace stood staring off into space, as if deep in contemplation, pipe smoke curing around his head. Lannon fidgeted restlessly, wanting to do anything besides stand there wasting time.