Knights: Book 03 - The Heart of Shadows Read online

  Knights: The Heart of Shadows

  by Robert E. Keller

  Book 3 of the Knights Series

  Smart Goblin Publishing 2013

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Original and exclusive cover art by Carolina Mylius

  Copyright © 2013 Robert E. Keller

  Content Notice:

  A complete 100,000 word fantasy novel.

  About the Author:

  Robert E. Keller is a fantasy writer who has had more than 30 stories published in online and print magazines, and he is the author of four epic fantasy novels. You can find more information on his projects at www.robertekeller.net

  Other Kindle books by Robert E. Keller:

  Novels:

  Knights: The Eye of Divinity

  (Book 1 of the Knights Series)

  Knights: Hand of Tharnin

  (Book 2 of the Knights Series)

  The Curse of Credesar

  (Book 1 of the Credesar Series)

  Short Story Collections:

  Fantasy Stories, Volume 1

  Fantasy Stories, Volume 2

  Fantasy Stories, Volume 3

  Fantasy Stories, Volume 4

  Short Stories:

  The Battering Ram at Doom’s Gates

  Brock Strangebeard and the Towers of Matterkill

  Table of Contents:

  Chapter 1: The Assassin

  Chapter 2: Knight and Dragon

  Chapter 3: The Journey South

  Chapter 4: Duel on the Snows

  Chapter 5: A Shadow in the Moonlight

  Chapter 6: Goblin Town

  Chapter 7: The Watchmen's Keep

  Chapter 8: Trouble in Hethos

  Chapter 9: Blombalk Fortress

  Chapter 10: The Eye of Dreams

  Chapter 11: The Hunted

  Chapter 12: Fortress Duel

  Chapter 13: The Journey North

  Chapter 14: A Duel of Blades

  Chapter 15: The Apprentice

  Chapter 16: The Secret of Invisibility

  Chapter 17: The Poison Claw of Bellis

  Chapter 18: The Savage Peaks

  Chapter 19: Old Hammer Hall

  Chapter 20: The Colossus

  Chapter 21: The Heart of Shadows

  Chapter 22: The Trial of Shades

  Chapter 23: The Path to Knighthood

  Chapter 1: The Assassin

  "Two Knights were found dead," said Jerret Dragonsbane, his handsome face grim in the torchlight that partially lit the stone tunnel. "Jace thinks they were assassinated with evil sorcery." But Jerret's grim expression was fake and couldn't disguise a hint of excitement that revealed his growing love of battle and bloodshed. His hand was clamped around the hilt of his broadsword.

  Jerret and Lannon Sunshield stood in one of the many underground passageways of the fortress of Dorok's Hand. Thick, rune-covered pillars, encircled by crimson vines that needed no water or sunlight, lined the tunnel. As usual, it was freezing cold and both Squires were wrapped in fur cloaks. Jerret overshadowed Lannon in size. The two Squires looked alike--with fair skin and unkempt blond hair--except that Jerret had put on more muscle than Lannon during his time as a Squire. Thanks to extensive training from Thrake Wolfaxe, Jerret had become a hulking brute while Lannon retained his lean form.

  Lannon sighed and leaned wearily against the tunnel wall, his dreams of a peaceful winter shattered by Jerret's bad news. If an assassin was on the loose, Lannon was sure to be one of the prime targets. The Eye of Divinity would never let him rest, as the children of the Deep Shadow hunted him relentlessly. Once again he wished he were back at Dremlock Kingdom and far away from this ancient and dreary mountain keep.

  Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight and sorcerer, was apparently dead--killed by Lannon's unpredictable power. And Vorden Flameblade was locked away forever in some pit of Tharnin. Yet Vorden's influence remained. Lannon's nightmares were filled with images of the Hand of Tharnin bursting forth from the earth to latch onto his throat and of yellow eyes smoldering in the shadows. Timlin Woodmaster was still firmly under that influence, plotting Dremlock's demise. Lannon suspected Timlin was behind this latest attack.

  "Looks like this fortress is no longer safe," said Jerret, partially drawing his blade, "which probably means you'll end up guarded day and night again." The muscular, blond-haired Squire glanced nervously along the tunnel. "And my instincts tell me you should welcome it."

  Lannon nodded. While the Divine Shield that had protected Lannon and Prince Vannas of the Birlotes had not officially been dissolved, Lannon and his fellow Squires had been given plenty of freedom to move about unguarded in the fortress. Lannon had been walking alone through the tunnels--on his way to the Dining Hall for lunch--before encountering Jerret.

  "A dead Jackal Goblin was also found," Jerret went on. "It was killed in the same manner as the two Knights. The Jackal was a prisoner being led to the lower dungeons for study--when the trio was ambushed. Taris wants you to examine the Jackal's body and learn how it was slain."

  Lannon's mood lightened some at the mention of Taris Warhawk. "Taris is here, in Dorok's Hand? When did he arrive?"

  "A few hours ago," said Jerret. "He came with a small company of Knights. I've heard he looks to be in great health."

  Lannon was eager to see Taris, but the news of the slain Knights kept his spirits low. "I wonder why Taris came here."

  Jerret didn't answer. He yanked his sword free of its sheath. "I'll lead you to him."

  "Put the sword away," said Lannon, annoyed. "It isn't necessary." Lannon was weary of Jerret's relentless drive to prove his worth as a Squire. He feared Jerret was going to meet a wretched fate if he continued along that path.

  Jerret frowned. "Don't be so sure. And besides, as a member of the Divine Shield, I'm sworn to guard your life."

  Lannon sighed. "Fine, lead the way then."

  But Jerret hesitated, a new gleam of fear springing into his eyes as he stared past Lannon down the tunnel. He raised his sword. Chills flooding over him, Lannon whirled around to see a dark figure standing in the passageway. For an instant Lannon thought the assassin had found him, and the Eye of Divinity sprang to life.

  But it was only Shennen Silverarrow, the famed Blue Knight of Dremlock. He approached them casually, and his face, which bore high cheekbones and seemed a bit weathered for a Tree Dweller, was emotionless. As usual, his eyes held a cold and sullen glint. His silver hair was cut short--a rarity for a Birlote. He was a warrior of such skill and reputation (and short temper) that many of the other Knights feared him. Although he wasn't a large man, his lean frame was knotted with muscle and he was extremely swift and agile. But his mastery of his sword--the terrifying precision with which he carved up his Goblin foes--was what had earned Shennen most of his respect.

  Jerret breathed a sigh of relief and lowered his sword. Lannon let the Eye falter. The two Squires bowed.

  Shennen nodded in return. His face looked unusually pale. "There is work to be done, Lannon. Are you prepared?"

  "I'm ready," said Lannon, though Shennen's tone was so grim that Lannon actually wasn't so sure.

  Shennen's cold gaze fell on Jerret. "Put your sword away, Squire. Assassin or not, we walk around with sheathed blades in this fortress."

  Frowning, Jerret sheathed the sword.

  "Did either of you know the Knights who were assassinated?" asked Shennen. "Blain Goldenhelm and Elbur Fairblade?"

  They both nodded. Lannon had spoke
n to Blain--an enthusiastic young Grey Dwarf with a good sense of humor--on several occasions. Elbur Fairblade was a Birlote archer, and like most of the Tree Dwellers, he'd been quiet and reserved.

  "Then take a moment to grieve," said Shennen, folding his arms across his chest and bowing his head.

  An awkward silence followed, as Lannon found himself dreading the task of examining the hideous Jackal Goblin. He wanted to get it over with. He bowed his head, however, and did grieve for a moment. Finally he looked up, but Shennen's head was still bowed, and so he lowered his own again. The moments slipped past as Lannon waited impatiently.

  At last, Shennen looked up and sighed. "Yes, very good. The task that awaits you will be unpleasant."

  Lannon nodded, his throat dry.

  "After this task is done," said Shennen, "I have yet another task for you--this one not quite as grim, but...perhaps as equally important. I have some Goblin bones I would like you to study."

  "Goblin bones?" said Lannon.

  "From a very powerful Goblin," said Shennen, a strange expression on his face. "I'm speaking of the Great Dragon that died before the gates of this fortress. But it is still just a pile of bones and nothing to be too concerned with."

  "I thought the Dragon burned to ash," said Lannon.

  Shennen shook his head. "Some of its bones survived."

  "May I ask why you need my help in examining the bones, Master Shennen?" Lannon cringed inside at the thought of it.

  Shennen nodded. "I have a great interest in studying the remains of the dead--in particular the remains of Goblins. However, I have reached a barrier I cannot cross. I need to be able to see things on a deeper level. I believe the Eye of Divinity can provide that. My research is incredibly important."

  That last statement failed to inspire Lannon. He had no desire to go near the bones of the Dragon--a creature that lived on in his nightmares. Over and over he dreamt of the massive, insect-like monster with the bodies of its victims dangling from stingers beneath it. He dreamt of the enormous purple eyes filled with endless depth, as the creature bore down on him. The Dragon was dead, but its aura remained in Lannon's soul and perhaps always would. Its presence also seemed to linger before the gates of Dorok's Hand, a gloomy feel in the air near where the Dragon had fallen. It was almost as if the creature wasn't truly dead.

  "Taris and Furlus await us in a supply chamber," said Shennen, motioning. With that, he started off down the tunnel.

  Exchanging an uncertain glance, Lannon and Jerret followed.

  "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.