Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin by Robert E. Keller

Author:Robert E. Keller [Keller, Robert E.]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Smart Goblin Publishing
Published: 2012-07-14T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter 12: The Festival of Fire

After the grim events in the mines, the search party regrouped at Dremlock. The Temple of Oracles had indeed led Lannon and his defenders out of the mountain, and from there, they encountered no more trouble on the winding road back to the kingdom. They were delighted to find that the others had survived the grasp of the Dark Mothers, but the celebration was diminished by the news that Willan had not reported back from the mines. Several search parties were sent--without Lannon and his Divine Shield, in spite of Lannon's request to join the search--but they could find no trace of him. After a week had passed, they concluded Willan was dead and held a funeral for him in the Sacred Temple.

Spring was giving way to the warmth of summer, and Dremlock was in a festive mood in spite of the recent happenings. Grim events were always taking place at Dremlock and didn't stop the periodic celebrations. The kingdom was hard at work preparing for the Festival of Fire, which was designed to honor the Birlotes who had lent support to Dremlock. The Festival consisted of a great feast held outdoors on the West Tower Training Grounds, where the Color Trials and other important events usually took place. The table-filled courtyard would be lit by Birlote torches, which had given the Festival its name. Birlote archers and sorcerers would perform tricks for the crowd.

But Lannon Sunshield was not in a festive mood at all, and neither was Taris Warhawk. Taris' health had not improved enough for him to attempt the journey to his homeland of Borenthia. He was so weak he could barely get out of bed, and many were afraid he would die on a long journey home. Only the sorcerer's immense will seemed to be keeping him alive.

Lannon stood by Taris' bed one morning, with his guards waiting outside the room. He gazed down in shock at the Birlote sorcerer. Taris' face seemed half covered in squirming shadows, and his left eye had turned permanently yellow. He was very gaunt and seemed barely able to move.

The room was dark, the window shutters drawn in spite of the warm, sunny day. A chill seemed to hang in the air. Candles burned in niches in the stone walls, and the smell of Birlote incense was strong. The atmosphere was so somber that Lannon almost felt like he stood in a tomb.

"We may soon ride to the Bonefrost Mountains," said Lannon. "Hopefully, we'll bring back the Hand of Tharnin."

Taris managed a smile. "I would expect nothing less. However, there is a real possibility I may be dead before you return. I know that's not what you want to hear, but you need to realize the truth and be prepared for it."

Lannon sighed in frustration. "I just wish there was some way to help you. I mean, some easier way."

"I'm not fond of the prospect of dying," said Taris. "I'm still young by Birlote standards and feel I have much yet to accomplish in life.

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