Chapter 4: The Tower of Arms
When Lannon awoke, he opened the window shutters to see bright sunlight pouring down amid the trees, and he realized he had slept until midday. His pack and his sword were missing, and he concluded the Knights must have moved the items for some reason. He hurried downstairs and found no sign of them. He asked the innkeeper--a thin man with pasty skin and a long beard--if his companions were still in bed.
The innkeeper chuckled. "Seldom do the Tower Masters sleep past the first rays of dawn, my young friend. They decided to let you sleep late, though, because they felt you had a rough go of it on the trip." He pointed to a fellow enjoying a drink at a table. "That's the Knight you need to see."
The Knight at the table wore silver chain mail and a sheathed sword. A brown sash was slung across his armor. His hair was short and curly, his face young and smooth. He took notice of Lannon and smiled, his blue eyes twinkling with amusement.
Lannon hurried over and sat down. "I'm looking for the three Knights. We were supposed to go to Dremlock Kingdom this morning."
The man laughed. "Well, you've found me instead. The Tower Masters went on ahead earlier, but they sent me to guide you. You won't be seeing much of them now, for they are very busy. My name is Cartlan Nobleblood. I'm a Knight and the Squire Master of Dremlock, which means you answer to me at all times. Is that understood?"
Lannon nodded halfheartedly, overcome with disappointment. He had wanted to ride into Dremlock in the company of the three great Knights. They had made him feel important, whereas this Cartlan fellow instantly shrank his ego.
"We have to get going," said Cartlan. "The Color Trials begin this afternoon, and all the new Squires must participate in them."
Cartlan and Lannon set off from Hollow Deep on horseback. Knights, merchants, Rangers, and common folk wandered up and down the mountain road. Dwellings were plentiful along the steeply climbing trail, ranging from log cabins to mansions. Inns and taverns were also abundant, with many bearing colorful names such as the Black Dragon Ale Den, the Golden Feasting House of the Knights, and even the Divine Inn of Unending Merrymaking! There were many colorful shops, some alleging to contain weapons and armor fit for the Knights themselves, and even a small Fortuneteller's den called the Eye of Divinity. Lannon took a long look at this last building. The Knights said he possessed a talent bearing the same name. Did he, then, have a Fortuneteller's gifts?
As the road ran higher and steeper, the shops, inns, and houses vanished, leaving only the massive Knightwood pines and rocky outcroppings. Once in a while Lannon would glance up and catch glimpses of the mountain's dizzying heights, but he couldn't see Dremlock or the wall that protected it.
"Where are my things?" asked Lannon, remembering his missing pack.
"Your stuff got thrown away," said Cartlan. "No Squires are allowed to bring their goods into Dremlock. It's not necessary." He turned and smirked.
Lannon sat in stunned silence for a while, while Cartlan took to humming a cheerful tune. Lannon began to question what kind of men these Knights were, to just dispose of his personal items so ruthlessly. Would the Tower Masters have allowed that to happen? It didn't seem likely, considering Taris had paid good money for the dragon sword, but maybe they didn't know of it.
"I was merely joking about your things," Cartlan finally said. "They were carried off by Taris Warhawk to Dremlock. It's possible the sorcerer put a dark spell on them, though, so be careful. Sometimes he can get irritated and do things like that. If you break out in boils, you'll know why."
Lannon smiled, thinking this Cartlan was really a fool. Lannon knew Taris better than Cartlan suspected. If anything, Taris had taken Lannon's items out of concern for them.
"I'll be careful," Lannon said. "I wouldn't want boils, especially with the Color Trials coming up today. I'll need to be at my best."
Cartlan chuckled. "You might just want to save yourself the trouble and pass on the Trials. You don't look like Knightly material. You'll probably end up wearing an orange sash anyways. But Orange is okay. We always need servants in Dremlock."
"What's so bad about Orange?" asked Lannon.
"Nothing," said Cartlan, "if you don't mind belonging to the lowest, most disrespected class of Squire in Dremlock. Everyone knows Orange Squires get the weakest training and worst assignments. It's kind of a sympathy class--you know, a little something for the failures. They can never become Knights, and just stay on to make a living serving food, tending the courtyards--that sort of stuff. It's downright humiliating, if you ask me. If I were Orange, I'd rather just leave the kingdom. Yet many of the lads swallow their pride and remain for the money and comfortable living."
"Well, maybe I'll do better than that." The confidence in Lannon's words surprised him. "Maybe I'll beat all the trials."
Cartlan shook his head in amusement. "Don't get your hopes up."
Like Hollow Deep, Dremlock Kingdom sat upon a flat, wooded plateau. However, this plateau was much wider, nestled against the mountainside, covered in a pine forest. The mountainside acted as half of the wall that defended the kingdom, and the other half was protected by a natural barrier of stone, like a lip, that ran along the plateau's outer edge that faced away from the mountain. The lip formed a sheer wall over thirty feet high. Guard towers had been placed atop the wall, and any openings in the lip had been filled in with stone blocks. Yet the ridge itself was nearly flawless, making it difficult to believe this was a natural formation--until one studied it up close and realized it was mostly a solid wall of uncut stone.
A huge tunnel mouth stood before Lannon and Cartlan, leading into the wall. Two thick pillars had been hewn from the stone on either side of the tunnel entrance, and a gate between the pillars blocked the way. The gate was silver in hue and made of bars as thick as Lannon's legs, and it had no keyhole or recognizable lock, instead bearing a wheel on both sides. A small stone guardhouse stood just inside the gate.
"Did the Knights carve this tunnel?" asked Lannon, amazed at the size of it. He wondered how they could have accomplished such a feat.
"Don't they have temples where you come from?" said Cartlan. "You should know how Darkender Tunnel was made. You should know all about the Divine Essence, and the White Guardian, and the Father of the White Guardian. You should know about Dremlock from start to...well, to where we are now. You should know all that!"
"I've never gone to a temple," said Lannon. "But I do know about the Divine Essence and some about Dremlock. It's in my book Tales of Kuran Darkender."
"That's a stupid book," said Cartlan. "I've read it. So you mean to tell me you've never, ever, gone to a temple?"
"Never," said Lannon.
Cartlan turned, his mouth gaping open in disgust. "Just where are you from? Some sorry little valley off in the middle of nowhere? Did you grow up worshipping some pagan forest gods or something?"
"No," Lannon said, unable to come up with a better reply. His face was flushed red with embarrassment, and he lowered his gaze.
"Regardless," said Cartlan, "I don't have the patience to explain things you should already know. You'll learn all about Dremlock in due time."
Guard towers stood atop the wall on either side of the gate, each manned by two Knights armed with crossbows. As they caught sight of Lannon and Cartlan, a bell chimed out. A huge Knight, adorned in tarnished plate mail and a two-handed battle axe, stepped out of the guardhouse in the tunnel. He was at least seven feet tall, and most of his bearded face was concealed with a horned helm. He wore a red sash across his plate mail.
"Brought us another, Cartlan?" the Gatekeeper said gruffly.
Cartlan nodded. "Just a little fellow. Goes to show you the Tower Masters will take anything these days, Gellick."
Gellick chuckled. "Come now, Cartlan. Give the lad the benefit of the doubt. There could be more to him than meets the eye."
Lannon glanced at the two, his stomach growing heavy with tension. He wished more than ever that Cordus, Taris, and Furlus
were with him. He felt alone and suddenly exposed for the weakling he was. He put his hands in his pockets and shrank down in the saddle. The Color Trials--whatever they were--could end up being dreadful.
Gellick strode over and gave the wheel a spin that looked totally random. But when the wheel stopped, a click arose. He shoved the gate open. "Have a good afternoon, Cartlan. And you, little fellow, hang tough. Size means nothing, all in all."
Easy for you to say, Lannon thought.
The floor of Darkender Tunnel was flawlessly smooth. Birlote torches shone on the walls--glowing crimson gems mounted on silver rods, hanging between paintings of the first Knights of Dremlock. At the tunnel's midpoint stood a silver statue of Kuran Darkender, the first Lord Knight, which was twenty feet tall and without blemish. A shield displaying the Crest of Dremlock was strapped to his arm, and his great sword was thrust towards the mouth of the cavern. His face was grim with a warning to all who dared enter here.
As Lannon gazed up at this statue, chills flooded his spine and he was suddenly swept away in glory. The strength and power of the Divine Knights swelled within him, challenging him to find honor and do great deeds.
As they passed around the statue, Cartlan gave it a slap and chuckled. "What's going on there, Big Pointy?"
The spell broken, Lannon glared at Cartlan. How could this cocky Squire Master refer to the greatest Knight ever as Big Pointy? That nickname made Kuran's giant, thrust-out sword seem somehow ridiculous rather than magnificent, and Lannon could not recapture the mood of before.
Farther along the tunnel stood another gate and another guardhouse, and beyond it was the tunnel's end. This Gatekeeper--a much smaller Knight than the last--sat in the building eating lunch. He came out and greeted Cartlan. He wore chain mail and had a sheathed short sword at his waist. Like the other Gatekeeper, a red sash was slung across his armor. His bearded face was weathered, his eyes kindly. He smiled at Lannon, showing badly yellowed teeth, and the boy took an instant liking to him.
"I guess I can let you two pass."
"Got a small one here, huh Findel?" said Cartlan, motioning towards Lannon. "The Tower Masters aren't too picky lately."
Findel shrugged. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe he's a little on the skinny side, but who says all Knights need be muscle bound? To be honest, you aren't much in the way of strength yourself, Cartlan."
Cartlan's lips tightened, his voice becoming a bit shrill. "Whatever, Findel! I'm plenty strong and you know it!" His face burned crimson and he didn't look at Lannon. "So open the gate, because we're in a hurry."
"Patience, boy," said Findel, grinning. He casually strolled over and spun the wheel, which stopped with a click. Findel shoved the gate open and nodded, still grinning. He winked at Lannon and the lad smiled back.
Maybe it wouldn't be so bad here after all.
Lannon's heart pounded in anticipation of actually seeing Dremlock with his own eyes. Even now, he could scarcely believe he was riding into the kingdom built by Kuran Darkender. How had this all come about?
The ground of the plateau was rocky in places, mainly at the edges, yet it was mostly able to support plant life throughout. A well-worn road led away from the tunnel mouth into a forest of colossal pines. The sun hung in the open sky, though soon it would creep beyond the stone ridge, leaving the plateau in shadows. The three Towers of Dremlock were not visible here due to the trees.
"This plateau is amazing, don't you think?" said Cartlan. "This is the perfect place for a kingdom, if you ask me, because it's so well protected. It's as if the mountain is reaching out to enclose Dremlock Kingdom. And yet a forest grows here within these stone walls. Some believe this plateau isn't a natural part of the mountain at all, that the White Guardian made it."
As they rode into Knightwood--as Cartlan called it--the Great Stable was the first building they encountered, a massive rectangular structure surrounded by bare earth and fences. The pines had been cleared away around the Stable. Standing within a fenced area were rails for jumping, targets for bow practice, and straw dummies for lancing and swordplay. Several Squires were engaged in training in this area, their weapons flashing in the sunlight. Lannon found the smell of the Stable less than appealing, but nothing compared to the stench of the Bloodlands. Cartlan took his horse inside and they continued from there on foot.
Just beyond the Stable, to the left of the road, stood Dremlock Cemetery, surrounded by a tall iron fence with a locked gate. Small stone crypts and weathered statues stood amongst the pines, leading back into the forest. Sunlight poured down from between the furry boughs onto the tombs, highlighting some in gold and leaving others in shadow--as if these sunlit tombs were somehow special. Goosebumps crept along Lannon's flesh.
"Lord Knights of the past are buried here," said Cartlan. He pointed to the largest crypt of all, which stood at off to one side and was nearly hidden by the pines. "That's Kuran Darkender's tomb--minus his body, of course, which was never found. I've always wanted to get a peek in that crypt."
"Can we go in there?" Lannon asked.
"This Cemetery is haunted," said Cartlan, ignoring his question. "I know all cemeteries are supposed to be haunted--but this one really is. There are Knightly spirits within that have not found rest. Don't ever come creeping around here at night, if you know what's good for you!"
"I won't," said Lannon, feeling another wave of goose bumps. "It looks closed, anyways." As he gazed into the cemetery, a strange image popped into his mind--that of a huge black hand swiping out at him from amid the tombs. He quickly turned his gaze elsewhere.
"The Cemetery is only open to the likes of us once per year," said Cartlan. "And then only in daylight. The caretaker alone goes in there the rest of the time. Yet Taris Warhawk has been known to venture in now and then, come to think of it. He’s into that sort of thing, I guess." And then he added in a whisper, "Goodness knows what he does out here, amongst all those corpses. I don't think you or I would want to know."
Lannon was tempted to defend Taris, but fought off the desire. It would just irritate Cartlan to think that Lannon knew the sorcerer better than he did, and since Cartlan was the Squire Master, Lannon had no desire to anger him.
Just beyond the Cemetery, the road split into three. They took the road farthest to their left. "We're going to the West Tower," Cartlan said.
"Why are the Towers in different places?" Lannon asked.
"This is Dremlock Kingdom," said Cartlan. "Not Dremlock Castle. And I'm not sure why it's broken up like that. I know the Towers were built on Olrog mines, so maybe the stability of the ground was taken into account. But there could be other reasons for them being separate. But I've heard they are linked by underground tunnels, which are only used in times of emergency."
"Will I get to see all of Dremlock?" said Lannon.
"You'll see more of the kingdom later," said Cartlan. "But for now, I'm taking you to the Squire's Quarters, where you'll stay until the feast begins. And truthfully, you'll probably never actually see all of Dremlock. There are places, I'm sure, that even Cordus Landsaver has never visited. I'd bet my life on it."
Now and then they passed small museums and monuments dedicated to various Knights and battles. Lannon wanted to stop and examine them, but Cartlan practically dragged him along, reminding him they were in a hurry.
At last they came to a clearing in the woods where the West Tower sat. Lannon drew in a deep breath at the sight of it. Made mostly of stone blocks taller than Lannon, the Tower was much larger than he had imagined it would be. It tapered up to a height even greater than the Knightwood trees at the clearing's edge. Many windows, doors, and balconies decorated its sides.
"Well, here it is," said Cartlan. "Quite a sight, huh?"
"Yes, it is," Lannon whispered, overwhelmed.
"The Training Grounds lie on the north side," said Cartlan. "That's where the Color Trials will take place."
Lannon studied the carefully cut grass, the small and colorful trees, and the stone walkw
ays that made up the Tower courtyard. This keep was a thing of beauty the likes of which he had never dreamed of--all enclosed by the protective Knightwood trees that stood like quiet guardians at the clearing's edge.
"It's beautiful," he said, and then he realized that sounded less than manly. "I mean...it's amazing. I can't believe how big it is."
Cartlan nodded. "Just wait until we get inside."
"Where are all the people?" said Lannon, looking around. All he could see were two guards by the front door and one cloaked, hooded man trimming the little trees. "I always imagined Dremlock would be a busy place."
"It usually is," said Cartlan. "But today, with the Color Trials and all, a lot of people are at the Training Grounds. Also, many of our Knights are off fighting Goblins. And Dremlock only does business with the outside world two days a week. The rest of the time the gates of Darkender Tunnel are locked and no one is usually allowed in or out. Only kings, noblemen, or highly respected guests, if they've notified us in advance, can sometimes get in."
"Why is that?" asked Lannon
Cartlan stared at him with wide eyes. "Have you been living in a cave? We are practically at war, Lannon! Ever heard of Goblins? Ever heard of the Blood Legion?"
"Oh," said Lannon, blushing. "I guess I wasn't thinking."
"I guess not," said Cartlan. "To explain it better, these are dangerous times, and spies are everywhere. That's why we've been so closed off from the outside world lately. The Blood Legion has grown stronger and more active recently, and Goblins are getting smarter. The Knights have to keep an eye on everyone who comes through Darkender Tunnel and make sure they're not here on shady business. It takes a lot of work and manpower to weed out spies, you know."
The Tower's front door was twelve feet tall--a stone slab with an iron handle. Two muscular, bearded Knights stood on either side of it. Both wore red sashes over their thick armor. Their faces were stern and grim beneath their horned helms, and each Knight held a battle axe and had a large shield slung over his arm. As Lannon and Cartlan approached, the guards made no move and their faces did not change expression.
"Stern lot, aren't they?" whispered Cartlan. "I think they're pretty bored with their job, which makes them grumpy. But it's not as if they have a difficult task, if you think about it. They never have to face any real danger. All they have to do is stand there and look tough for a few hours each day."
Cartlan nodded to the guards. "Keld, Ramos. How's everything going today? I hope you're not having too much fun."
The Guards said nothing and slowly, grunting with effort, they pulled the door open. They stood sullen and silent as Lannon and Cartlan entered. The door was pushed shut behind them.
Lannon stared in silent wonder.
A huge hall stretched away before him, full of oaken tables and chairs resting upon a green-and-gold carpet. Life-sized paintings of Knights lined the walls. The only painting Lannon recognized was of Kuran Darkender, which hung above a stone fireplace at the opposite end of the hall. A door stood on each side of the fireplace--one labeled Kitchen and one labeled Armory Entrance. The right wall held a door marked Squires’ Quarters. Two of the tables in there were larger than the others and adorned with silver tablecloths bearing gold trim. A stack of thick, leather-bound books lay on these two special tables, as well as tobacco, pipes, and writing utensils. Two men and a Birlote woman, all cloaked in green, sat at the fancy tables, studying books and papers. They didn't glance at the newcomers. Two Squires wearing Orange sashes stood nearby.
Towering suits of armor lined the hall, and ridiculously large swords, shields, spears, and axes decorated the walls, hanging between the paintings. The weapons and armor--though obviously too big to be wielded by anyone but a giant--had been crafted with extraordinary care. They gleamed brightly in the light of the many Birlote torches that lit the chamber, exquisitely detailed runes and pictures engraved into them.
"The Armory Hall," said Cartlan.
Lannon could only nod in response.
"See those Green Knights?" Cartlan whispered, pinching Lannon to get his attention. "Let me give you some great advice--stay well clear of them at all times. They're second in power only to the Tower Masters. If you anger them, you'll be out on your ear. If you're lucky."
"What do you mean?" said Lannon.
"You know what's below here?" whispered Cartlan. "That happy little place called Dremlock Dungeons. Trust me, you don't want to visit there."
As they walked quickly towards the door marked Squires' Quarters, one of the Green Knights glanced up and caught Lannon's eye. He was a clean-shaven, silver-haired Knight whose age was hard to guess, though the rugged lines on his face indicated he was a bit on the elderly side. Lannon gulped, frozen for a moment in the Knight's stare. The Knight frowned at him, his eyes narrowing. He took a puff of his pipe.
"Come on!" whispered Cartlan, tugging Lannon along. "That's Trenton Shadowbane, the Investigator of Dremlock. You don't want to try staring him down!"
They passed beyond the door and climbed a staircase that led up to a hallway lined by six more doors. They entered one labeled New Squires. It turned out to be a round chamber filled with many beds and small nightstands, a very plain and boring room with bare oaken walls. Young men near Lannon's age occupied all but a few of the beds. The youths were busy chatting with each other, or playing card and dice games.
Cartlan led Lannon to an empty bed numbered forty-seven. "Your things are under here, minus that fancy sword. Taris said to let you know you could have the sword when you finish the Color Trials. When I see you again, don't expect any special favors."
Lannon ignored him and dragged his pack out from under the bed. He sat down on the hard mattress and looked around. He noticed that many of the lads were Norack (or pale skinned) like him--though there were several Birlotes and Olrogs amongst them. (The Olrog boys already had short beards.) A few of the youths bothered to glance his way, but the rest took no notice of him. His eyes passed over them quickly, and his heart began to pound anxiously. He began to long for the solitude of Knights Valley.
Hurriedly he pulled The Truth about Goblins from his pack and lay down to read. He opened to the middle and found himself staring, ironically enough, at a drawing of a Foul Brother--which, after the encounter at the North Gate--now seemed like a menacing creature rather than a sad, dumb one. He started reading, and soon became wrapped up in the book, unaware of the passage of time.
Suddenly he realized someone was trying to get his attention. "Hey, you there!" a voice called out. "Why don't you answer me? Get your nose out of that book for a second."
Startled, Lannon glanced up. A boy sat on a bed next to him. His hair was black and neat, his eyes were large and dark, and he wore black clothing. He was bigger than Lannon as many of the boys were, and solidly built.
"What's your name? I'm Vorden Flameblade."
Lannon introduced himself.
"Lannon is a weird name," said Vorden. "I've never heard of a Lannon before."
And Vorden isn't a weird name? Lannon thought.
"I can't wait for the Color Trials to begin," said Vorden. "I know I'm going to be picked Brown, at least. Maybe even Red. What about you?"
Lannon shrugged. "I'm kind of worried I might not do so well. What types of colors are there? I already know about Orange."
"You could be picked Orange, Brown, White, Blue, Red, or Grey," said Vorden. "Orange is the bottom, of course, which means you've failed. Brown is where most of the talented Squires end up, and it lies just below Blue in rank, I think. I don't know much about Blue, and only rarely does anyone get picked for that. It's some kind of a secret, special class. Grey is for sorcerers--another rare class that's mostly for Birlotes. And then there's Red, which is what I'm hoping for. Red is second only to Green."
"Why not go for Green, then?" said Lannon.
"I can't," said Vorden. "You can only be Green if you've done great deeds and get promoted by a Lord Knight. Only High Council members are Green."
"What about White?" asked Lannon.
"It's kind of like Blue," said Vorden, "but not so mysterious. White is the Healing Class. White Knights seldom get to fight--they usually just heal people."
"How boring," said Lannon.
Vorden raised his eyebrows. "Sure, but somebody has to do it. Who else is going to care for the sick and wounded?"
Lannon nodded guiltily, thinking of his father, who desperately needed a White Knight to cure him. "I just hope I don't end up being White."
"You probably won't," said Vorden. "It's rare, and you don't seem compassionate enough for it. Of course, you don't look like a fighter, either. Truthfully, you kind of look like Orange material."
"When do we start the Trials?" Lannon asked nervously.
Vorden shrugged. "Hopefully soon. I just can't wait to go out and prove myself to the Knights!"
"Have you met some of the others?" Lannon asked.
"Yeah, I know most of the new Squires," said Vorden, "and some of the Knights. We've been waiting two weeks for the Color Trials to begin. But Cordus Landsaver said he didn't have enough of us yet, and went off in search of more. So where are you from, by the way?"
"Knights Welcome," said Lannon. "Just outside of it, actually."
"I'm from Gravendar," said Vorden, "the City of the Dead. It's much bigger than Knights Welcome."
"Why is it called that?" said Lannon.
"City of the Dead?" Vorden shrugged. "I guess because of all the Olrog tombs there. A lot of Squires here come from Gravendar, but even more come from Kalamede, the western city. There are others here from Knights Welcome, too. You might know some of them."
"Maybe," said Lannon, knowing he probably wouldn't.
"Let me tell you some things about this place," said Vorden. "First of all, avoid the Green Knights, because some are downright mean. The other Knights are more easy going, but you still have to mind your manners around them. The Squires are okay, with the exception of a few, and you should get along with them. We get good food here--three meals a day, which we eat in the Armory Hall. We turn in early, and get up early, but so far we haven't gotten any training. I guess we have to wait for the Color Trials before the Knights decide how to train us."
"How long before we can be Knights?" asked Lannon.
"That's an individual thing," said Vorden. "But usually it takes about four to eight years, from what I've heard. It all depends on how fast you learn, how talented you are, and how hard you work."
"So if you end up being Orange," said Lannon, "you get no training and can never become a Knight?"
"Right," said Vorden. "Of course, you could always leave. That's probably what I'd do. If I couldn't be a Knight, I'd be too humiliated to stay. I guess I could go live as a Ranger or something."
Lannon thought of the Rangers who looked after the North Road, and wondered if Vorden knew anything about their hardships.
"Come on," said Vorden. "I'll introduce you to some of the others."
Just then, the door banged open and Cartlan entered. The room fell silent. "Okay, Squires, you've got just a few moments to get ready and head into the Hall. We're going to have lunch and then a meeting. After that, the Color Trials shall begin. Now follow along, please. And hurry up. We don't want to keep the Masters waiting."
"This is it!" said Vorden, grinning. "Now we're going to find out who is Knightly material and who isn't!" He straightened his black clothes and smoothed his hair (as if that would help him somehow), and jumped up.
Lannon put away his book and rose unsteadily to his feet. His stomach felt ready to sink to the floor. He couldn't fathom how Vorden could show such confidence (anticipation, even) over something Lannon found terrifying. But glancing around, he saw mixed expressions. Not many of the Squires showed the confidence Vorden seemed to feel. Most looked tense and hurried as they put on boots and belts and stashed away games and such. One lad seemed even worse off than Lannon, as his face had gone deathly pale and he was sitting on his bed holding his stomach.
"Poor sod," Vorden whispered, nodding toward the anxious lad. "That's Timlin Woodmaster, from Kalamede. I don't know why he was ever picked as a Squire. The boy has the courage of a Tree Goblin."
Lannon said nothing, understanding Timlin's fear. Less than a week before, Lannon had been a lonely lad living a secluded life in the woods, and now he was suddenly surrounded by boys his own age. Soon he would have to go before them and prove his worth in the Color Trials. But despite the special power the Knights believed he had, he didn't feel the Trials were going to be the least bit fun.