"How is your training progressing?" Shennen asked them, as they navigated the tunnels. "And I'm referring to your training as Blue Squires."
Neither Squire answered. Lannon had all but abandoned anything to do with his color class-instead preferring to train himself in the use of the Eye of Divinity and general swordplay. Jerret still trained as a Red Squire, in spite of being ordered to convert to Blue, specializing in close, heavy combat.
"I see," said Shennen, glancing at them and frowning. "You have neglected your color class. I'm disappointed, but right now it isn't something I can concern myself with." His gaze seemed to grow distant. "Too many greater issues…"
"Are you okay, Master Shennen," Lannon asked, perplexed by the Blue Knight's odd behavior. "You seem a bit distracted."
"Distracted?" mumbled Shennen. "Yes, I am. You'll come to understand why in due time. It concerns those Dragon bones."
Lannon wanted to press him for more information, but he sensed Shennen wouldn't take kindly to it. Lannon could have probed him with the Eye, but he feared to use his power on a Knight of Shennen's stature unless given no choice, just in case his attempt at spying was discovered and he was punished for it. Also, Lannon was not one to violate the Sacred Laws of Dremlock.
But Jerret wasn't about to stay quiet on the issue. "So what about the bones?" His eyes lit up. "Could weapons be made from them, like Lannon's sword?"
Shennen paused and glanced about slowly, as if scanning the shadows for danger. Then he said, "Jerret, the bones of a Great Dragon are too evil and dangerous to be forged into weapons fit for Divine Knights."
"But my sword isn't evil," said Lannon, wondering why Shennen's gaze was suddenly fixed on his blade. He grabbed the hilt protectively. "At least, Taris didn't think so or he wouldn't have bought it for me."
"Taris was correct," said Shennen. "Your sword is not evil. In fact, it will adapt to your demeanor over time and become a reflection of it." He extended his hand. "Give me the sword."
Wondering what Shennen was planning, Lannon drew the light blade and handed it over. Lannon had grown very attached to the sword (and the sword to him) and it felt wrong to part with it. He wanted to snatch it back.
Shennen examined it in the torchlight. "Such a beautiful weapon-nearly flawless in design. A blade like this is very rare. Made from a lesser Dragon that was nothing like the great beast that slew so many of our Knights. Just a small one, more like a Vulture, but a real Dragon nonetheless. This blade will always be part of you, Lannon. It can channel and enhance your sorcery."
"I can't use sorcery," said Lannon. "I never learned how."
Shennen raised his eyebrows. "Oh, is that so? What do you call the Eye of Divinity, if not sorcery?"
"But I can't channel the Eye into a weapon," said Lannon.
Shennen smirked. "A foolish assumption. A blade like this could indeed receive the Eye. It has the same potential as Glaetherin-the invincible metal of the Olrogs. You should try it before you dismiss the possibility."
Lannon didn't answer out of politeness, but he believed Shennen was mistaken. The Eye of Divinity didn't work like Knightly sorcery. It didn't generate the magical fire that made Knightly weapons so dangerous. The Eye could move objects (even heavy ones, when used on instinct) at a distance, it could shield Lannon's body, and it could gain hidden knowledge. And apparently the Eye could also become a deadly, explosive force under the right circumstances-which Tenneth Bard had discovered to his chagrin during Lannon's last encounter with him. But it couldn't generate even a flicker of flame. Lannon felt that Shennen simply didn't understand how the Eye of Divinity worked. Even Taris seemed to know little about it.
"Well discuss it later," said Shennen, handing the sword back to Lannon. "For now, we must concern ourselves with this assassin." He scowled. "Such a wretched distraction."
"A distraction from what?" said Lannon. For some unknown reason, Shennen's words provoked deep anxiety in Lannon
But Shennen didn't reply.
Taris, Furlus, and Jace were gathered in the shadowy storage room that was lit by a single small torch, where the dead Jackal Goblin was laying upon crates. Also present was someone Lannon hadn't seen in a long time-Saranna the Ranger and her wolf companion Darius. Lannon was pleased to see Taris looking so healthy, aside from a troubled expression and the permanent cluster of scars where the Hand of Tharnin had burned one half of the sorcerer's face.
"Greetings, Lannon," said Taris. His hood was thrown back, and Lannon noticed one of Taris' pointed ears had also been burned and was nearly closed shut by scars. The Hand of Tharnin had taken quite a toll on him.
"Lannon bowed. "Glad to see you're feeling better."
"Thank you," said the Tower Master. "Now let's get right to business." He pointed at the dead Jackal and said, "Dark sorcery infests this beast. An exceptionally nasty sort that could give you trouble."
Lannon glanced at the Goblin, his heart lurching. The Jackal's face was covered in a dark cloth, but its spotted, muscular body was exposed in the torchlight, its arms hanging down and its long claws touching the floor. It seemed that using the Eye of Divinity was always perilous. "What kind of trouble?"
"We don't know," said Furlus, raising his drooping eyebrows. The bulky Dwarf was leaning on his battle axe, and his dark-grey beard-which was as broad as his chest when flowing free-was set into four braids in honor of the Olrog holiday called Rune Winter. His broad, weathered face didn't show much concern. "Probably nothing you can't handle, though it might give you a scare."
Jace patted Lannon on the back. As usual, the towering sorcerer was dressed in a flowing purple cloak and smoking a pipe. "Don't be too alarmed, Lannon. It's undoubtedly nothing dangerous, but it might be rather unpleasant. Just keep a calm head and be prepared." At nearly two-hundred years old, Jace looked like a man in his early thirties. His curly black hair held not a hint of grey and his face was smooth and youthful. Jace was a giant-standing nearly seven feet tall with broad shoulders and bony hands that seemed like shovels.
Again, Lannon glanced at the dead beast, wondering what sort of unpleasant sorcery still lingered inside the Jackal. In a way, the beast was still alive-charged with foul magic.
Lannon turned the Eye of Divinity's gaze on the creature. At first he merely saw a shell empty of life or spirit. But he realized the shell wasn't entirely empty, for some hideous darkness squirmed within it.
"I see something," Lannon said, "like…writhing shadows."
"We need you to peer into that evil sorcery," said Taris, "to learn everything you can about it. Do not be hesitant."
Lannon did as Taris requested, sending the Eye deep into the squirming mass of dark sorcery. He could almost glimpse what it was all about-some dreadful purpose nearly revealed-but the answer eluded him. It seemed to shift constantly beneath his gaze, always promising but never quite delivering. He chased after it in frustration as the moments passed by and the others watched in silence, until he began to grow weary and thought he must surely give up.
"Do not surrender!" said Taris, in a commanding tone. "No one else can do this task."
Somewhere amidst the haze of elusive shadows, Lannon began to feel something calling to him. He glanced at the dark cloth that covered the Jackal's face, the strange pull coming from beneath it. Lannon was certain the secret lay beneath that cloth. With a trembling hand, he reached for it.
Furlus seized his arm. "No, Squire. You won't like what you see."
"I have to," said Lannon.
With a shrug, Furlus released him and stepped back.
Lannon trembled as he gazed at the dark cloth. He knew he could never learn the truth until he removed the shroud. The people around him seemed to fade into the shadows, leaving him alone with his task. He was chilled at the prospect of what he might find when he lifted away the cloth.