***
After a few steps, Lannon found his balance, and soon he stood by Furlus' bedside. Garrin excused himself, leaving the two of them alone. Furlus' left leg was heavily bandaged and his forehead dripped sweat. His face was tense with obvious pain that Lannon couldn't imagine.
Furlus seized Lannon's arm. "How are you, lad?"
"I'm fine," said Lannon, his gaze straying again to Furlus' injured leg. Furlus had always seemed invincible, a Dwarven wall of muscle and power that nothing could breech. Now he looked old and helpless, his great bulk something to only weigh him down. Lannon hated what he saw and wished he could help.
"I've seen better days myself," said Furlus. "And so has old Taris. Poor fellow had half of his face burned into ruin."
Lannon swallowed hard and could think of nothing to say.
"I called you in here to warn you," said Furlus. "I fear that Dremlock is..." His eyes settled shut and then popped open. "I fear that Dremlock is doomed. No one can be trusted anymore, not even your closest friends."
"I'll keep that in mind," Lannon mumbled, his heart full of pity for the Tower Master. "Just try to rest and heal up."
"No one should waste time worrying about me," Furlus grunted, looking annoyed. "I'm talking about you, Lannon! You may be Dremlock's only hope. Only the Eye of Divinity can see through the wall of shadows that conceals the plans of our enemies. Cordus and Taris didn't want to burden you with the truth. But it's time for you to understand just how important you are. The Knights of Dremlock are running out of options and resources. So we...we..." His eyes slipped shut again beneath his drooping brows.
"Rest up," Lannon whispered, and he started to turn away.
But Furlus' hand again tightened around Lannon's arm, and the Tower Master opened his eyes. "The medicine has made me tired, but I'm not finished yet. I want to say that I no longer think the Knights can protect you--not when two Tower Masters are crushed with ease. You nearly were killed down there in the Deep Forge. It took everything Taris had to save you."
"Then what can I do?" said Lannon, panic rising within him.
"You must learn to think like a Knight," said Furlus. "You've got to thicken your skin a bit and take the battle to your foes."
"I don't understand what you mean," said Lannon.
"Indeed," said Furlus, "and therein lies the problem. "You're thinking in defensive terms, but a Knight must sometimes go on the attack. Hunt down your foes--the foes of Dremlock--and destroy them before they destroy you."
Lannon shuddered at the thought of hunting down the demon man, or Tenneth Bard (if the Black Knight still lived). "Where do I even begin, Furlus? I'm still just a Squire who has to obey the rules."
"I don't know where you begin," said Furlus, shaking his head "and now that I'm bedridden I cannot help you. I'm certain I will heal from this, but it will take awhile. Regardless, you have to decide for yourself. But I feel very strongly about one thing--if you simply try to hide from your enemies, eventually they will find you and kill you. You must go to them and make them hide from you. And even then, hope may be slim at best."
Lannon sighed. "I'll do what I can, Master Furlus."
"And one more thing," said Furlus. "Don't..." His eyes settled closed. "Don't worry about anything but..." He broke into snores.
Lannon turned away, put his face in his hands, and groaned. Everything was falling apart, and his life was in grave danger. Lannon had never felt as terrified, alone, and as miserable in his entire life as he did now. His future seemed lost in darkness, his dream of being a great Knight in a shining kingdom soured into unrecognizable swill.
"Why did I ever come here?" Lannon said aloud.
"Let me guess," came a cheerful reply. "The rice pudding?"
"What?" Lannon lowered his hands and opened his eyes. Before him stood a tall man--nearly seven feet in height--dressed in an extravagant, purple cloak with gold trim. He was clean shaven, with a smooth, youthful face and a curly black hair. His grey eyes twinkled with amusement as he puffed at a pipe.
"What?" Lannon said again.
"The rice pudding," said the stranger. "You asked why you came here, and that was my answer. Who doesn't love the rice pudding at Dremlock?"
Lannon was at a loss for words.
The stranger extended his hand. "Jace Lancelord."
End of preview.
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