Knights: Book 01 - The Eye of Divinity Read online

  Garrin shook his head. "If it were talent alone that made us, Dremlock would have fallen to Bellis or the Goblins or the Blood Legion long ago. Do you think Kuran Darkender was merely talented?"

  "He was blessed by the Divine Essence," Lannon said. "I read that in my book Tales of Kuran Darkender."

  Garrin nodded. "The Divine Essence is our true god. It is the great enemy of the realm of Tharnin and of the Deep Shadow."

  "I want to know about the Deep Shadow!" Vorden said eagerly.

  A frown darkened Garrin's face. "Do not be so eager to hear of the scourge of our world, Vorden, lest its hand fall upon you."

  Vorden lowered his gaze. "I was just curious, Garrin."

  "I understand," said Garrin. "It's just that we can never be too cautious when dealing with the Deep Shadow. Now first of all, I would prefer you address me as Master Garrin, since I am to be your trainer part of the time. And I suppose I will tell you the basic history of the Deep Shadow while we walk to the Temple, since it is something everyone should know.

  "There was an age once, over twelve thousand years ago, when the only two races on our continent of Gallamerth were Olrogs and Noracks. The two races made bitter war upon each other, and hatred and bloodlust ruled the land. They worshipped pagan gods and such things as chivalry and honor were rare. But then one night, a Great Light appeared above a place known as Stormy Mountain--so called because storms rage endlessly above the peak--and from that light came a pale, glowing creature which would come to be known as the White Guardian. It journeyed down the mountainside and blessed the land, teaching Noracks and Olrogs the ways of peace and justice."

  "What about the Birlotes?" Timlin asked. "Where were the Tree Dwellers?"

  "Please do not interrupt me," said Garrin. "Now as I was saying--the White Guardian, which one might view as the child of the Great Light above Stormy Mountain, became the protector and teacher of the races, and Gallamerth seemed to have a very bright future indeed. The Guardian dwelt on our land for over five hundred years, and during that time the two races prospered.

  "But then disaster struck. A massive rock fell from the heavens one night, landing in the ocean just off Gallamerth's shores. It devastated our land, destroying much life. But the Noracks and Olrogs survived, as well as most of the other species--though some were lost forever. Our continent was plagued with a terrible winter that lasted four years and caused the destruction of even more life."

  "What about the White Guardian?" said Timlin. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt again."

  "When the huge rock hit our land," Garrin went on, "the White Guardian was shattered from the shock waves, and the pieces of it were hurled far and wide across our continent. The rock's impact had a peculiar effect on the Guardian--causing it to explode violently into many pieces--almost like crystal being shattered by sound, if any of you Squires have ever witnessed that. These fragments, which still pulsed with life, were known simply as Flamestones--for they appear to be rocks that burn endlessly."

  "Like the Birlote torches," Vorden said. "Are they actually Flamestones?"

  "They are just imitations," said Garrin. "True Flamestones possess great power, and represent different parts of the Guardian's body--such as the Blood, the Flesh, the Heart, and the Mind."

  "Did anyone find the Flamestones?" Lannon asked.

  "Yes, many were found," said Garrin. "Entire wars were fought over them, and they have changed hands many times since those days. Right now most are owned by the Birlotes, who keep them locked away in the Hall of Sorcery in their tree city of Borenthia. Some have fallen into evil hands, while others still remain undiscovered. This may come as a great surprise to you, but the Divine Essence--our god--is nothing less than the Mind of the White Guardian. It is the greatest of all the Flamestones."

  The Squires exchanged amazed looks.

  "Will we get to see the Divine Essence?" Timlin asked excitedly.

  "Unfortunately, no," said Garrin. "No one is allowed down there but the Lord Knight. Yet I can tell you a little bit about it. The Divine Essence exists in a crystal chamber somewhere below the Temple. Kuran Darkender--the first Lord Knight of Dremlock--had a vision of it calling to him from the darkness of the Olrog mines beneath his fortress, and he and his Knights journeyed below, battling Cave Trolls and other Shadow spawn before finding the chamber containing the Essence. The Essence spoke to him, telling him he must forge a great kingdom--rather than the mere fortress that they had at the time--to battle the expanding Bloodlands. The Divine Essence gave us a purpose. And that is how Dremlock began."

  "But what does this have to do with the Deep Shadow?" Vorden asked. They had stopped walking, and were standing in the forest.

  "I'm getting to that," said Garrin, pausing to puff at his pipe. Then he continued. "When that great rock fell from the sky and devastated our land, it also ripped a hole right through the fabric of our world. Our world borders the dark realm of Tharnin, where the Deep Shadow exists--and so a portal between the two worlds was opened at the site of impact. The Deep Shadow is a force that endlessly seeks to expand and devour, changing everything into a phantom existence, corrupting the nature of reality itself. But it could not come through the portal into our world, because the life force of living things here repelled it. There was still enough life on Gallamerth to hold the Deep Shadow back. So it created the Barloaks--demons that could withstand the force of living things.

  "These Barloak demons came through the portal and ravaged our land, making war on the Olrogs and Noracks. Their goal was to destroy enough life so that the Deep Shadow could enter our world and devour the rest. You see, as the Deep Shadow expands it grows stronger, and if it could take Gallamerth, the rest of our world would fall easily to it. The entire world would be webbed in a sort of phantom darkness.

  "Somehow, the Deep Shadow managed to trick the Olrogs into joining with it, and in return it gave them powers over weapon forging and other strange abilities that they still possess to this day. In fact, many of the Grey Dwarves still see Tharnin as the savior of their race--though they also hate and fear the Shadow Realm."

  "So only us Noracks were left," Vorden said.

  "Yes," said Garrin. "And you can imagine how that went. We were drastically outnumbered and swiftly losing ground. But then the Birlotes arrived in great wooden ships on our shores. They had abandoned their own land across the sea--a small island in comparison to our continent--for it had fallen to earthquakes and volcanoes and was in danger of sinking into the sea. The Tree Dwellers sought to make a new home on Gallamerth, and quickly joined with the Noracks in their fight against the Deep Shadow. The Birlotes possessed great magic, and forged enchanted weapons that were a match for the Olrog blades and hammers and could bring great harm to the demon Barloaks. Yet still the Noracks and Birlotes were losing the war.

  "But then the Birlotes discovered one of the lost Flamestones of the shattered Guardian--a crimson one of tremendous power that was of its Blood--resting in the heart of a dead volcano. Their king, the great Olzet Ka, wielded this mighty weapon against the Deep Shadow. And with it, the Birlotes were able to triumph. Yet some areas remained corrupted by the Barloaks' evil. The Bloodlands grew out of that evil and spawned Goblins into our world. To the north lies the Desolation of the Deep Shadow--which is the worst of all the Dark Lands.

  "Silverland started out as wealthy and prosperous, but the Goblins threatened to turn it into a stench-filled wilderness. Bellis, the largest kingdom on Gallamerth, sent a legion of Knights to defend Silverland and beat back the Goblins. And that is where Dremlock and the Divine Knights enter my tale."

  "Well, go on," said Vorden. "Tell the rest of it."

  "Yes, tell us," said Timlin.

  "We're not at the Temple yet," Lannon reminded him.

  Garrin chuckled. "I would love to, since telling tales of the past is something I always enjoy. But you'll learn about the basic history of Dremlock Kingdom at the Temple, where Cordus Landsaver is expected to give a speech in jus
t a short while."

  "I'd rather hear it from you," said Timlin.

  Garrin smiled. "Yet I don't want to take anything away from our Lord Knight, who is a magnificent speaker and certainly much better than I. Be patient, lads."

  When they came to the intersection of the trails, Garrin led them down the middle road, and there they met many Knights and Squires in the woods, who all greeted Garrin warmly. As the forest gave way to the Main Courtyard, they found themselves walking on a stone pathway that led between rows of little red trees amidst which sang birds of varying sizes and colors. The Temple and the North Tower lay ahead in this huge clearing.

  The Temple stood in the middle of the courtyard, while looming behind it was Cordus' tower--which was larger than the East and West Towers. The road split in two around the building as it led onward towards the keep. The Temple was made of stone, but had a copper roof weathered green. It was a round, two story building with a spectacular landscape surrounding it of little trees, flowers, and sparkling fountains. Atop the Temple was a bronze statue of Kuran Darkender. He was down on one knee, his face turned up towards the heavens.

  The sweet scent of incense drifted from the Temple, mingling pleasantly with the summer day. Birds perched on the statue of Kuran Darkender and sang from the round windows in the Temple's walls. The beauty of the courtyard, mixed with the surreal scent of the incense, caused powerful feelings to arise within Lannon and the other Squires. They felt that they walked in a holy place--that beyond the crude fabric of their world existed the splendor of godly realms. The faith of the ones who had built this temple was strong, outlasting time and death.

  Many of the new Squires were gathered outside the front entrance with their trainers. As the four approached, Vorden waved to some of the youths and hurried ahead to talk with them. Lannon and Timlin raced after Vorden.

  Garrin and the other trainers gathered to talk amongst themselves. Vorden introduced Lannon to some of the lads, and one of them struck up a conversation. He was a Red Squire with bright blond hair, fair skin, and blue eyes, but his handsome face was corrupted by a sneer. "What happened at the Color Trials, Vorden?" he said. "I think you got cheated, my friend."

  Vorden shrugged. "Blue isn't too bad, I guess. I can live with it--but I'd rather be Red like you, Jerret. I, too, think I deserve it."

  "And what of this one?" Jerret said, motioning towards Lannon. "Most of the Squires feel he deserved Orange."

  "It doesn't matter," said Vorden. "We should just be happy with what we have. The Knights have their ways. Who are we to question it?"

  "I agree," said Jerret. "I don't care at all, because I know I got what I deserved. I'm just saying that some of the other Squires aren't happy about it."

  "Then let them come and say it," said Vorden, looking around. None of the other Squires seemed to be paying attention. They were too busy talking, gesturing, and laughing--sixty-three youths who (with the exception of some of the Orange Squires amongst them) were having the greatest time of their lives.

  "Derrick's the big complainer," said Jerret. "He passed two of the Trials, yet got stuck with Brown. He felt he deserved Blue at least."

  Vorden sighed. "Look, Jerret. Blue is a special class. Not everyone can just be Blue. For whatever reason, it's a rare thing."

  "Tell that to Derrick," said Jerret, as he moved off into the crowd.

  Vorden went about socializing here and there, as the crowd split into groups, while Lannon and Timlin stood quietly beside each other. Lannon looked with envy upon Vorden. He seemed so confident in himself as he wandered about chatting with people, yet Lannon's stomach tightened at the thought of trying to initiate conversations with these strangers. He wanted to be like Vorden, he realized, more and more with each passing moment. Yet he had no idea where to begin.

  Timlin seemed even worse off, standing with his gaze focused shyly on the ground and his hands in his tunic pockets. He was nervously humming a tune under his breath and shuffling his feet.

  "I wonder when we can go in?" said Lannon, just for the sake of talking to

  someone--even if that someone had to be little Timlin.

  Timlin shook his head and shrugged, a silent answer that did nothing to assist them in combating their isolation.

  After that, Lannon just kept quiet and waited anxiously, his thoughts beginning to wander to more significant things. Here before him was the Temple, and beneath it was an actual god--the Divine Essence. The Mind of the White Guardian lay somewhere below his feet, still alive and full of wisdom. It had spoken to Kuran Darkender and told him of his destiny, and Dremlock had been forged. And now Lannon was a Squire in service of that god and the kingdom that it ruled over--and someday, if all went well, he would be a Divine Knight. How swiftly things had changed. Less than a week before, he had been playing in the Quiet Spot of Knights Valley, swinging a stick at the trees and rocks and imagining he was a Knight slaying Goblins. Now here he was--the dream made reality. But he was still having trouble accepting that reality.

  At last the Squires and their trainers were called upon to go inside. They entered in an orderly fashion, with each group followed by its trainer. Just beyond the door was a short hallway of stone. Thick stalks of incense burned in brass holders in the corners, and Birlote torches lit the walls. The shadows and burning incense created an engulfing, pleasant atmosphere--one that demanded silence and respect. The boys instinctively said nothing above a whisper.

  An iron door at the hall's end was engraved with the words:

  WELCOME TO THE TEMPLE OF

  THE DIVINE ESSENCE,

  WHERE DWELLS HE WHO BREATHED LIFE INTO

  THE COLD STONE OF THE MOUNTAIN.

  THE TRUE LORD OF DREMLOCK KINGDOM

  Beyond that door was the Temple's sanctuary--a large round room with a domed ceiling. The ceiling bore painted artwork depicting Stormy Mountain, above which hovered the Great Light. Moving down the side of the mountain was the smaller light known as the White Guardian, shaped somewhat like a four-legged beast, with a head that looked too large for its body. The eight stained-glass windows in here told the story of Kuran Darkender's discovery of the Divine Essence and the fulfilling of his destiny. They depicted him having his vision of the god, relating that vision to the other Knights, the search in the catacombs beneath the keep, the evil that threatened them (represented by a shadowy form with fiery red eyes), the crystal chamber where the Divine Essence lay in wait, the god casting the light of truth and blessing upon Kuran, the constructing of Dremlock Kingdom, and finally--the Crest of the Three Towers.

  Stone steps on four sides led up to an altar, where stood a silver sculpture of the three crystals that represented the Divine Essence. On the side of the altar were dozens of symbols written in the Sacred Text (which, among all the Squires, only Lannon could read but was too distracted to bother studying). Birlote torches glowed on the walls, and incense burned in every corner. A podium stood next to the altar, a huge leather-bound book resting atop it. Cordus Landsaver stood behind the podium, dressed in his flowing silver cloak, studying the book. Taris Warhawk and Furlus Goblincrusher flanked him. Five Orange Squires stood off to one side, each holding a scroll.

  Wooden benches sat at the base of the steps, more than enough seats for all of the Squires and their trainers. Quietly they filed in and sat down, and then they waited in silence for Cordus to begin.

  Finally Cordus cleared his throat and glanced up, his face solemn and his eyes stern. His piercing gaze swept the crowd, creating shivers and tense muscles. The Squires fidgeted nervously beneath that gaze.

  "Greetings, Knights and new Squires of Dremlock," Cordus began at last. "I've called you here today to prepare you as best I can for what is to come. I chose the Temple, rather than the Meeting Hall in my tower, because herein lie the Sacred Scriptures." He pointed to the symbols on the altar. "I don't expect anyone to be able to read this, for I myself cannot. But the translation dwells within this book."

  He held up the book for a
ll to see. "So as not to waste anyone's time, including my own, I shall do this in an orderly and swift fashion. I shall begin with the histories of Gallamerth and then Silverland--all the way up to the present day. After that, I shall read the Five Sacred Laws of Dremlock Kingdom."

  Cordus began his tale the way Garrin Daggerblood had, but as he spoke, his eyes grew fiery and his voice thundered out. Extreme conviction lurked in every word, backed by the fierceness of his will. Sweat dripped from his brow, and his tangled hair was plastered to his forehead.

  When Cordus at last reached the part where Garrin had left off, a Squire brought him his great wooden mug and he drank deeply before continuing. "Now I've come to the part of my tale," he went on, "that directly concerns our great heritage. The Knights of Bellis, led by Kuran Darkender, were sent here to Silverland to stop the Goblins from transforming it into a wasteland."

  His eyes narrowed. "A wasteland, Squires! Here would exist nothing but bloated Iracus Trees and the foul beasts they spawned--and it would grow in strength like the very Deep Shadow itself, creeping beyond the mountains and devouring all that is decent. The Deep Shadow feeds on life--when such life lacks the strength to repel it--yet the dark creatures it spawns feed on wholesome and natural life regardless of its abundance. So in a sense, the children of the Deep Shadow are even stronger than their master, since the force of life cannot harm them. All that the Deep Shadow touches is corrupted and breeds further disease and despair.