***
"Why didn't they try to finish us off?" Taris asked, as the horses again slowed to a trot. "That entire affair seemed pointless."
"The Goblin Lord and his Wolves were sent to intimidate me," said Cordus. "If I falter, so will Dremlock Kingdom. That is what our enemies believe. We were expecting an attack, so they surprised us with a warning." He nodded toward Lannon. "If they knew the true nature of this mission, they would surely have thrown all their might against us. Obviously, some secrets remain hidden to our foes."
"But how did they know we were on the North Road?" said Taris.
"They watch us," said Cordus, "with methods we cannot yet imagine. From the moment we left Dremlock, they must have planned that encounter at the North Gate. They suspect we’re on a vital mission, the three Tower Masters riding alone from Dremlock when our kingdom is in peril. Yet what have they learned? Only that we ride with a boy."
Gazing into the fog, Taris said nothing
"We should not speak of this," said Cordus, "when the lad is with us. Lannon, you shall not mention a word of this to anyone. If you do, there may be grim consequences that even I cannot foresee. Being exiled from the kingdom would certainly be one of those consequences." The Lord Knight stared hard at Lannon, his eyes burning deep into the boy, demanding total obedience.
"I won't tell anyone," said Lannon, and he meant it with all his heart. Emotions swirled through his mind--terror over the future, awe of the Knightly power he had just witnessed, and a lingering gloom from the Goblin Lord's aura. He felt he could understand his father's illness better now, after what he had encountered in the Bloodlands. The darkness was real, and it was hungry--just like his father had said. He had felt the very surface of it, and underneath lay things he dared not try to imagine.
Lannon realized his father wasn't weak willed at all. He was a strong man to have stared into the very heart of darkness and still kept some measure of his sanity. Even after many years of existing inside him, clawing at his father's body and mind, the shadows had not yet consumed him.
As evening settled in, the Middle Bloodlands began to give way to hill country. The hills were huge, the road winding between them and sometimes creeping over them. The Iracus Trees surrendered to towering pines, which grew sparsely and were straight, tall, and noble compared to the twisted Goblin trees. The roots vanished from the trail (save for an occasional knotty pine root), and the stench slipped away, leaving only fresh air. The weather had cleared some, and from the hilltops they could see the Firepit Mountains beyond the forests, hills, and misty valleys.
Crumbling stone ruins stood on some of the hills. Most resembled the remains of keeps and fortresses, while others were little more than shapeless masses of rubble. "These are the Elder Lands," Cordus told Lannon. "Some of the most ancient kingdoms on our continent of Gallamerth existed here. The names and origins of many have been forgotten, for they were here before the Birlotes came--before the White Guardian itself came from the Great Light above Stormy Mountain to teach the races the ways of peace." Cordus pointed to ruins on a particularly tall hill. "Serenlock Castle lies there, Lannon. That is where we'll camp this night."
Lannon studied the ruins closely. They didn't look like they formed a castle--just a bunch of boulders in a big heap on the hilltop.
"Doesn't look like much from here, does it?" said Cordus. "But that castle was once the main rival of Dremlock Kingdom. King Ordamer Kessing of Bellis constructed it for the sole purpose of bringing down Dremlock. Obviously, it failed."
"A poor location compared to Dremlock," grunted Furlus.
"Yes," said Cordus, "But Serenlock was defended on all sides by a massive wall. When the castle fell, the wall was torn apart and the blocks moved to Dremlock to form parts of the West and North towers."
"Why did Dremlock allow Serenlock Castle to be built?" asked Lannon. "Why didn't the Knights just come over here and stop it?"
"A good question, Lannon," said Taris. "But we weren't at war with Bellis during that time. We knew why Serenlock was being built, but Dremlock refused to strike the first blow. Our nobility would not permit it."
They guided their horses up the great hill and into the ruins. The Greywinds, despite being sure-footed animals, slipped now and then and panted from the effort of climbing such a steep slope. Lannon clung tight to Taris, feeling like they were in danger of tumbling back down. Much of Serenlock Castle had collapsed on itself and sank into the hill, but some of it was still well preserved.
As they passed upward between the boulders, Lannon made out familiar shapes like parts of stairs, floors, and walls. Cordus seemed to know exactly where he was going, leading them around and even underneath great obstacles, until at last they emerged onto a wide slab on the hilltop. The slab must have been a courtroom floor or something of the like. Here, between four towering statues of Knights, they stopped to make camp, with open sky above them.
Cordus built a fire inside a circle of small stones between the four statues. The Knights gave their horses feed bags and then gathered around, unfolding blankets. Furlus had stashed away a leg of lamb from the Dead Goblin, and now he brought it forth to gnaw on, while Cordus smoked a pipe. As usual, Taris seemed to crave little beyond his required meals, which he had already eaten, and he sat motionless.
Cordus nodded towards the statues. "These represent the Four Lords of Serenlock Castle, Lannon."
The towering statues were made of marble, and depicted men bearing swords, axes, and heavy armor. They were crumbling and mossy, yet still vivid. One stood out from the others due to the insane look in his eyes. His wild hair flowed long, and in one hand he held an Olrog head, which he grasped by its beard. Somehow this was the most lifelike of the statues, and the sight of it made Lannon's heart race. The crazed eyes seemed to burn into his soul. Lannon could not look upon this statue for long. He turned away, wishing he had never set eyes on it but needing to know more about it.
Cordus smiled at him. "Each of these great Knights has a magnificent tale behind him. But the most intriguing of all--certainly the most tragic--is the story of Tenneth Bard, the Black Knight. You will learn much of the history of Dremlock, Silverland, and even our continent of Gallamerth as you advance into Knighthood."
"I want to know about Tenneth Bard right now," said Lannon. A deep sadness wrenched at his heart, underneath which lay a darkness spawned by something he dared not peer into.
Cordus frowned and shook his head. "Some things are better left untold, for the time being. I don't wish to burden you with too much knowledge until you are ready for it. This tale can wait until another time."
"Okay," said Lannon, getting under his quilt. He pulled it over his head, trying to block the statue from both eye and mind. For some reason, he needed to hear the story of Tenneth Bard, though he doubted it would offer him any comfort. Yet sometimes not knowing was the worst feeling of all.
An hour passed by. Cordus lay down to sleep, and soon started to snore. Furlus finished gnawing the meat from the bone and also lay down. Taris alone sat by the fire, and he beckoned Lannon over. "Come, I will tell a bit of the tale you've been waiting to hear. No harm will come of it."
Lannon eagerly left his blanket and sat down across from Taris.
"Tenneth Bard was once an exceptionally talented Knight of Dremlock," said Taris. "But he was expelled from the Order for violating the Sacred Laws. He became a pathetic drunkard, wasting his life away, until King Ordamer of Bellis called upon his services. He joined with the Knights of Serenlock in their attempt to destroy the Divine Order. But his former failure had changed him. He was no longer sane or stable. The darkness was in his heart, and drove him deeper and deeper into madness. When Serenlock was defeated, Tenneth Bard escaped and became a Black Knight--sworn to topple Dremlock."
"Why was Tenneth Bard expelled from Dremlock?" asked Lannon, hoping to avoid the same fate. The Sacred Laws sounded quite rigid.
"The sad thing is that it was all quite needless," said Taris. "T
enneth Bard made a mistake that he probably should not have been banished over. Yet time and again, great Knights have been cast from the Divine Order for petty violations of the Sacred Laws. And time and again, it has come back to haunt Dremlock."
"Was Tenneth Bard ever killed by anyone?" said Lannon.
"After Serenlock was defeated," said Taris, "Tenneth Bard formed a band of Black Knights called the Blood Legion. When the Divine Knights finally hunted down and broke up his clan--temporarily, mind you, for the Blood Legion exists to this day--he escaped into the Northern Bloodlands and was never seen again. Those are the most dangerous Bloodlands of all, filled with horrors that defy the imagination, and it has always been assumed that he perished out there."
"Why were these statues left standing?" said Lannon.
"As a tribute to our victory," said Taris, "and a warning to future plotters against Dremlock."
"I feel like the statue of Tenneth Bard is watching me," said Lannon. "He certainly does look insane." He folded his arms across his chest and shivered.
"I think there was something evil about Tenneth Bard," Taris said, "that went beyond his insanity. I believe he was in league with dark and powerful forces--perhaps the Deep Shadow itself, which is where all foul sorcery comes from. Even to this day, we may not fully realize what damage he did to Dremlock Kingdom."
Suddenly Lannon felt guilty. He glanced at Cordus, who was still snoring peacefully under his quilt. "Maybe I shouldn't know these things," he whispered. "Cordus thought I should wait to hear of it."
"These are histories you would learn regardless," said Taris. "You're not just a lad who happens to be traveling with us, Lannon. You are soon to be--officially--a Squire of Dremlock Kingdom, and as such, you will learn many things about the past. Now try to get some rest. We still have much traveling to do."
Lannon curled up in his blanket and tried to sleep. For half the night he lay awake, his heart troubled by things he could not understand, feeling Tenneth Bard's crazed eyes upon his soul. Finally he slipped into dark dreams of warfare and bloodlust. He felt the weight of centuries bearing down on him, a shifting tide of glorious victories and renowned men and women--but also of crushed dreams, failed honor, and fallen Knights. Shadows clashed amid the hills and mountains, while Goblins crept out from the gloom of the bloated Mothers to make war on life itself. The dreams lasted the entire night, and Lannon could not escape them until the grey dawn touched his eyelids.