For nearly two weeks following what had occurred in Dremlock Cemetery, Lannon was confined with Vorden and Timlin to the East Tower, and they didn't see Aldreya at all during that period. They were permitted to leave their quarters only when absolutely necessary. (The same was true for all the less advanced Squires.) They didn't know what was happening around the kingdom--only catching bits of pieces of rumor that could not be substantiated.
Each evening, Lannon would lie awake for hours wondering if Dremlock had finished off the Blood Legion and the Goblin Lords, and the powerful fiend that had killed all those Black Knights, or if things had taken a turn for the worse. Many times he thought of his parents, so far away in Knights Valley and undoubtedly knowing nothing of what was happing at Dremlock. He believed his father would have been proud of how he had helped the Knights--even if their victory turned out to be short-lived.
And what of Kalamede? Had the city fallen, or were the Goblins driven back? Lannon could get no answers from the Knights, and the Eye of Divinity lay dormant, for he had no desire to call it forth at this point. He felt he needed to relax his mind, to recuperate from the great toll his use of the power had taken on his body. After each day of rest, he felt a little stronger and a little more energized.
Yet Vorden had begun to act strangely. When Lannon tried to talk about the questions that haunted his mind, Vorden acted as if he couldn't care less, brushing Lannon aside with a statement such as, "You worry too much, Lannon." Each night Vorden would take out his new sword and just stare at it--sometimes for hours. He seemed distant and irritable, and his once hearty appetite had diminished. He had lost weight and his skin looked pale.
When Lannon at last questioned him about it, Vorden insisted nothing was wrong, but Lannon wasn't fooled. Something else was wrong with Vorden, and there was no doubt in Lannon' mind it had to do with that dark blade.
Finally Lannon confronted him about it one night, demanding to know why he hadn't been himself lately.
"I told you," Vorden replied, rolling his eyes. "You worry too much. Why can't you just go find something to do?"
"You should get rid of that sword," Lannon said. "It came from the mines, and it can't be a good thing. And it's ugly looking, too."
Vorden glowered at him, placing his hands protectively over the sword. Lannon suddenly felt like he was staring at the face of total stranger. "Mind your own business, Lannon!" Vorden snapped. "This sword saved your life. It hurt Tenneth Bard when nothing else could. So quit complaining about it."
"I'm just saying--"
"Well, don't!" Vorden interrupted. He went back to staring at the sword. Suddenly, spiders seemed to be crawling on his face--little shadowy ones. They appeared there for an instant, and then Lannon blinked his eyes and they were gone.
Had the spiders actually existed?
Vorden looked up. "I'm sick of having you stare at me like I'm a freak. So you want to know the truth? Fine! There is a shadow under this thing, Lannon. It interests me because it seems so full of depth. I don't know what it is. Sometimes when I watch it, it changes form. It's not really good, but I know it's not evil, either. It's not the Deep Shadow if that's what you're thinking. It's some kind of new thing--like no one has ever thought of. And I'm going to learn its secrets!"
"Just be careful," Lannon said, chilled to the bone.