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The Hand of Darkness
an illustrated tale
page 3


    "What?" Ulmerad turned to the dark knight.
    "I will not allow this... boy... to take command of this mission," Daravon snapped, walking slowly in front of Garalt.
    "Why do you deny him, Daravon?"
    "I have come a long way, Milord," Garalt defended.
    "You, boy, are still just that.  A boy.  I have not seen you fight.  I have not seen you lead.  I have not seen you do any of the things that Tundrock or the Princess have said.  How do I know you are capable of such things?"
    "You doubt the word of my daughter?" Ulmerad said angrily.
    "Ulmerad, look at your daughter," Daravon said, pointing at the Princess with his sword, "she dresses as a knight, and plans to go across the sea with a young, idealistic knight who may not have the most honorable of intentions in mind.  Can you honestly trust him with her?"
    "I would never...!" Garalt stepped forward.
    "I trust Garalt, Daravon, just as Kullvox put his faith in him," Ulmerad said quickly.
    "Yes, Daravon, I have seen this young man be more honorable than any of the other knights in our kingdom," Allamir spoke up.
    "I see..." Daravon said slowly.  His voice was like a dagger in Garalt's heart.  No matter what he had gone through, Lord Daravon was just about the most frightening knight Garalt had ever come across.  At least with Ethelred, Garalt knew what side he was on.  Someone was out to overthrow the king, and who knows, it very well could be the dark knight before him.
    "I will prove myself to you, My lord, I promise you that," Garalt said slowly, trying to hide his nervousness.
    "You will prove yourself now, boy."
    "What?" Garalt swallowed hard.
    "Fight me boy.  Show me you are a knight to be reckoned with!"

    The two knights slowly walked to the center of the throne room, while the other knights all pushed themselves to the walls.  Ulmerad and Allamir sat themselves down in their thrones with Alyia standing between them.
    "This is a real fight, boy," Daravon said, raising his sword to the younger knight, "I won't be going easy on you in the least.  From the start of battle, I will treat you as I treat any of Ethelred's minions."
    "Father!  Stop this!  I beg you!" Alyia pleaded.
    "No, Daravon does have a point.  We must see how young Garalt fairs.  Worry not my daughter," Ulmerad took her hand in his, "if what you've told me is true, Daravon won't defeat him easily."
    "Ready yourself knight!" Daravon ordered.  Garalt reached up and quickly lowered his face plate.  He felt better with the face plate down, it hid all of his fears and nervousness of the dark knight from the world.  But deep down, Garalt felt a well of anger building inside him.  Anger toward Daravon, anger for doubting him, for doubting his king, for doubting Alyia.  He felt the anger inside him giving him strength where his fear had sapped it away.
    "Let's start this," Garalt snarled.

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