Knights: Book 02 - The Hand of Tharnin Read Online Free PDF

be dead--now playing the role of Dremlock's savior."
    Lannon wasn't sure what to think. Though he loved the books Jace Lancelord had written, he had no idea what kind of man he was. And Lannon wasn't in the frame of mind to get excited over much of anything.
    "This sort of thing is not uncommon," said Garrin. "Outsiders being called upon to serve Dremlock--even lowly Rangers now and then." He grimaced in disgust. "It happens all the time, sadly. But what a coincidence that this Jace Lancelord happens to be your favorite author. Don't you think?"
    Lannon shrugged, completely baffled. "What are you trying to suggest, Master Garrin? It's mere coincidence. I don't know anything about the man. My father gave me those books when I was a child, and that's all there is to it. I had no other books. So I guess that's why he's my favorite author. And haven't other Knights written books? I see a lot of authors in the Library with Knightly last names."
    "Perhaps," said Garrin. "But here you are, with those books--and then suddenly Jace Lancelord turns up alive and well. Oh, and he's coming to Dremlock to save us. Quite an amazing coincidence."
    "Not really," said Lannon, deeply puzzled.
    "Yes, really ," said Garrin.
    Lannon sighed and decided to keep quiet. Garrin's behavior was nothing new. Garrin had been growing ever more suspicious of Lannon, Vorden, and Timlin over the weeks, and sometimes his hinted accusations were so bizarre it was difficult to figure out what he was trying to say. He wished Garrin would go away.
    "How will this Jace fellow help Dremlock?" asked Lannon, trying to steer the conversation toward something rational.
    "As I said," Garrin explained, "Jace Lancelord is an expert on magical weapons and relics. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that nearly killed you. Like the demon man's big metal gauntlet that burned half of Taris' handsome Birlote face and crushed Furlus' fat Dwarven leg. Am I making sense here?"
    Barely , Lannon thought, wondering if Garrin was simply going insane. Garrin's paranoia seemed to be growing worse every time Lannon saw him.
    "Oh, and you'll be working with old Jace on the mystery," said Garrin, with a chuckle. "The bearer of the Eye of Divinity and his favorite author, working hard to save Dremlock. I'm guessing you're excited at the prospect."
    On the contrary, Lannon wasn't looking forward to it at all. He wanted to retreat to his room and hide. He dreaded the thought of encountering the demon man again, especially without Taris to protect him.
    "Just know this, boy," said Garrin, his eyes narrowing and shining with malice. He tapped his forehead, "I'm watching your every move."
    Lannon gave a half nod, unsure of how to react.
    Garrin straightened his back and adjusted his cloak. "All training shall be postponed until the issue with the demon man is settled. And that goes for Vorden and Timlin as well, since I'm sure they will be assisting you. If you have any questions for me, you know where to find me--though I suspect your training as a Blue Squire will not be nearly as important as the Eye of Divinity in this matter. Now, if there is nothing else you want to ask me, Furlus Goblincrusher has requested that you visit him in his room. Are you able to stand?"
    Lannon gave it a try, and his legs sagged beneath him. Grunting, Garrin helped Lannon stand up straight.
    "You'll find your legs soon enough," said Garrin. "I wish I could say the same for old Furlus. His walking days may be finished."
    ***
    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