Robert Keller - The Hand of Tharnin

"Less than a week to go until Promotion Day," Lannon Sunshield said apprehensively, drumming his fingers on the tabletop. Lannon, Timlin, Aldreya, Vorden, and Jerret were seated in the East Tower Library. It was a badly needed rest day, as their training had been brutal recently.

As always, even in daylight hours, the Library was shadowy, the four Birlote torches failing to illuminate every corner. The Goblin statues glowered menacingly at the Squires from atop the bookshelves. One other Squire sat reading at another table-a young Birlote male named Gweskel Woodlord.

Vorden Flameblade looked up from a book he was reading. Like the other boys, Vorden, who'd turned seventeen years old recently (he was roughly a year older than the other Squires at the table) had grown taller and more muscular over his first eleven months at Dremlock Kingdom-but much about him had remained the same. His black hair was always kept neat (unlike Lannon's blond tangles), and he always conducted himself with the dignity of a young lord or prince. Yet underneath he was as wild as a wolf, always seeking something greater. He kept the other Squires on edge, leaving them constantly wondering what he would say or do next.

"I feel ready," Vorden said. "What about you, Lannon?"

Lannon shook his head. "I haven't done well at training recently. I just hope these tests aren't as tough as the Color Trials."

Aldreya Silverhawk laughed. Her striking green eyes, framed by curly silver hair, shone with amusement in the torchlight. "The Color Trials were nothing. These tests are going to be much more difficult."

"You've learned plenty of new skills, Lannon," Vorden pointed out. "Training as a Blue Squire is difficult, and you've done fine with it."

"True, but I'm fairly average," Lannon admitted. "I'm good with my sword, but nothing special. And I'm terrible with a bow."

"Just use the Eye of Divinity," said Jerret Dragonsbane. "If you did that, you could pass all the Trials with ease." Jerret grinned at Lannon, knowing Lannon would think his statement was folly. Jerret was as tall as Vorden, though less muscular. His blond hair was long and uneven in places. (Jerret cut his own hair, refusing to let any of Dremlock's barbers touch it for fear they would take too much off.)

"I can't do that," said Lannon. "It would be cheating. The Knights wouldn't allow it. Besides"

"Besides what?" said Jerret.

Lannon shrugged. "It just wouldn't be fair." How could he explain to Jerret the deep fear he felt over the thought of using the Eye of Divinity? He couldn't even explain it to himself. The notion of summoning his power left him feeling paralyzed. Often, as of late, he would awaken sweating and trembling from nightmares he could not remember, the sensation of cold fingers on his throat. It appeared that Tenneth Bard-the Black Knight and sworn enemy of Dremlock Kingdom-had affected him deeply in some way he'd yet to recover from. Lannon felt he should talk to Taris Warhawk about it, for the sorcerer might be able to help him overcome his fear. But Lannon hadn't seen much of him lately. Taris seemed very busy and distracted, always in a hurry to get somewhere. So Lannon had decided to wait until after Promotion Day to take any action concerning the Eye of Divinity.

It had been over a month since Lannon had stood face to face with Tenneth Bard and lived to tell of it. The Knights had done well in beating back the Goblins, ever since Lannon had given them the knowledge they needed to finally kill the Goblin Lords. It looked as if Tenneth Bard's plans had been ruined. Yet shadows of doubt lingered on, hinting that the threat was not ended.

"I'm going to win the archery contest," Timlin Woodmaster said. "I'm the best in all of Dremlock." The short, skinny lad with the thin face smiled at the others' annoyed looks. "I'm just telling the truth."

"Maybe you will win," said Vorden, "but you shouldn't be so cocky about it, Timlin. And I plan to prove you wrong."

"Did you hear the latest news?" said Jerret. "The Knights retook the North Road from the Goblins, driving them deep into the Bloodlands. They reopened the Dead Goblin Inn."

"But who will keep the road maintained for travel?" said Lannon, thinking back to the horrible conditions he'd encountered on his journey to Dremlock. "I thought the Rangers vowed never to return there?"

"The Knights will maintain it from now on," said Jerret. "At least that's what I heard. I also heard that two Knights were killed in the tunnels below the Temple here at Dremlock-Hune Goldenhammer and Ellena Whitehelm."

"Tenneth Bard's minions must still be in the tunnels," said Vorden, in a low voice. "But I wonder where the Black Knight himself is? If he's dead, then why did his body vanish so quickly?"

"That's what everyone is asking," said Aldreya. "I know that's why Taris is so distracted lately. I think he has been spending all his time trying to find Tenneth Bard. I've heard that the Knights have been exploring the tunnels-going places they've never dared venture before. I'll bet a lot of Knights are going to die down there."

"They need you, Lannon," said Jerret. "You should use the Eye of Divinity to help them find Tenneth Bard."

Lannon shuddered. "Listen, Jerret, I don't want to talk about that right now. Just forget I even have the Eye."

"Why?" said Jerret. "What's wrong with you lately? You have a great ability and it should be used."

"That's enough, Jerret," Vorden said, in a commanding tone. "Lannon doesn't want to discuss it. So drop the subject."

"Fine," said Jerret, "I won't mention it again." The Red Squire glared at the tabletop, his face set in a frown.

"I'm going to get some practice," said Vorden. "Who's with me?"

"But we're supposed to be resting," said Timlin. "We're all worn out."

"I want to be ready for Promotion Day," said Vorden. "Don't you?"

"Let's all go practice," said Aldreya. "We need it."

"Practice is boring," said Jerret. "I'm going to go take a nap."

"Lazy sod," Vorden mumbled, drawing an angry stare from Jerret.

"I think I'll stay here," said Lannon. "I'm a bit sore from training. I need to rest up. I'll see you later on."

"Are you sure?" said Vorden. "Only five days left until the Trials."

"I know," said Lannon. "But right now I just don't feel up to practicing. I'm going back to my room for a while." Lannon felt a strong desire to be alone. He needed time to think everything through. He stood up, placed his trembling hands in his pockets, and left the Library.

As Lannon stepped out into the hall, he seemed to sense cold eyes watching him. It was always the same lately-whenever he went somewhere, he could feel himself being watched. Yet the hallway appeared deserted. Sunlight streamed in through two round windows-one at each end, leaving only faint shadows here and there. He stopped and listened, but the only noise he heard came from his friends in the Library. He considered summoning the Eye of Divinity to at last find out who was stalking him (if anyone) and why, but then the fear of using his power gripped him again, banishing that idea from his mind.

Lannon made his way up to his quarters and closed the door behind him. He took off his boots and lay down on the bed. A great weariness suddenly washed over him. He'd not slept well lately-with the nightmares and all-and it was finally catching up to him. How was he supposed to prepare for Promotion Day under these circumstances?

Soon Lannon drifted off to sleep, and he immediately found himself in another nightmare. He was standing somewhere underground-possibly in the maze of mines and tunnels below Dremlock Kingdom-and before him was a pit of molten lava. A shadowy figure stood on the opposite side of the pit, his arms outstretched-holding a bulky object in one hand that Lannon couldn't identify. Writings of the Deep Shadow glowed blue on the stone walls and ceiling. The shadowy figure was apparently invoking some foul sorcery. The air in the chamber was heavy with dark tension that was growing stronger by the moment.