Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (34 page)

But only Tenneth Bard was wounded—his hood thrown back to
reveal severe burns on his face that had destroyed one eye. He clutched his
face in agony, as his Goblin steed ran to him. With defenders closing in front
of him, the Black Knight climbed into the saddle, directed a last gaze at
Faindan that could have meant anything, and then rode off toward the woods.

His yellow eyes wide, Almdrax ordered a retreat. But he was
surrounded by Brown Knights with spiked shields—led by Lort—who closed off
his escape routes like a circular wall. Facing death or surrender, Almdrax
threw down his battle axe in disgust and knelt in the dirt.

Some of the Legion fighters fled into the forest, and some
surrendered. But the Goblins fought on to the death.

Furlus climbed onto his horse. “I need twenty Knights!
We will hunt down Tenneth Bard and put an end to him while he is weak!”

Valedos and the remaining members of the Nine Axes joined
him, along with Lort and some of his Brown Knights. Some Red Knights also
joined the search party, lances in hand to deliver the finishing blow.

But when Faindan tried to join, Furlus waved him back.
“You have done enough, young Knight. You struck a stout blow to Tenneth
Bard that will never be forgotten. Stay here and help secure the
prisoners.”

Faindan bowed, his confusion growing by the moment.

Chapter
18:

The Cursed Warrior

Lannon dodged the claws and struck back with his
blade—only to encounter empty air. The fog swirled around him, obscuring his
vision and even confusing the Eye. He thought he glimpsed a hulking form coming
toward him and again he attacked—and again there was nothing.

“You’re a coward,” Lannon called out. “Why
don’t you show yourself and battle me fairly? Let us fight an honorable
duel.”

His answer was a claw from the fog that raked his shoulder,
tearing through his cloak and drawing blood. Dark sorcery tried to seep into
his body through the wound—sorcery that wanted to poison his will and bring
him to his knees—but Lannon seized it with the Eye and destroyed it. However,
the wound itself was fairly deep, and blood soaked his cloak. He shielded himself
with his power.

Lannon grabbed a heavy oak chair and flung it at a moving
shadow. The chair struck something and a loud hiss arose. There was a cracking
noise and pieces of splintered wood flew past Lannon.

“Show yourself, coward,” Lannon insisted.
“If you won’t fight me in a fair duel, you waste my time.” Lannon
flung several more chairs—two of them making contact with the demon.

Another claw attack came from the mist—this one raking
across Lannon’s face. But the Eye protected him and no damage was done. This
time, while retaliating, Lannon cut into flesh—a shallow wound.

Again the demon hissed at him, and the fog thickened.

Lannon was seized from behind, long arms locking around his
chest. The demon squeezed him viciously, with strength many times that of a
human. The shield generated by the Eye was tested to its limits against this
crushing force, but it gave Lannon enough time to twist out of the demon’s
hold. He whirled around and thrust his sword out—to find empty space.

“You’re pathetic,” Lannon called out, continuing
to insult his foe. “Is that the best you can do against a Divine
Knight?”

For a moment there was silence, as the mist continued to
swirl throughout the Dining Room. Then an inhuman voice whispered back,
“You wish to duel, Dark Watchman? I have no time for such childish games.
So the Bearer of the Eye cannot see though my
unfair
tricks. You are
still quite young and have not reached your full potential. You should not have
come here.”

“Are we going to fight, or waste time talking?” asked
Lannon. Actually, wasting a bit of time didn’t bother Lannon, for it gave him a
chance to try to figure out how to see through the fog. He was waging a furious
battle against the confusion, willing the Eye to pierce the haze of evil
sorcery.

“My name is Lord Hathannis,” came the whisper.
“You should address me properly when in my fortress.”

“So what is your answer?” asked Lannon.

“Take a rest,” said Lord Hathannis. “Sit
down, if you can find a chair you haven’t broken. Would you care for some meat,
or some wine? It is all very delicious. My cook does a wonderful job preparing
the meat for me. And the wine is made from the blood of cursed rats. We call
them Mud Rats, because mud is where they like to dwell in the marshes of
Silverland. They often bear a most peculiar disease that makes their blood
truly delicious. Don’t shun it until you try it.”

“I won’t eat your food,” said Lannon, “or
drink your foul wine. I refuse to dine with the enemies of the Divine
Essence.”

“You don’t like me,” said the demon, “obviously.
You have judged me already. You wish the Crimson Flamestone had burned me to
ash so long ago—like it did to so many of my kind.” Lord Hathannis
sighed. “I didn’t survive because I was the strongest, the fastest, the
bravest, or even the luckiest. I survived the Great War because I was the
smartest
.
Or, at least, one of the smartest. You may hate me, Lannon, but at least
respect me for my accomplishments.”

“I can never respect you,” said Lannon.
“You’re an abomination to all life, and by the Sacred Laws, I have the
right to slay you at will.”

“Yes,” said the inhuman hiss, “you have the
right to assassinate me by Dremlock Law. Many of your kingdom’s Knights have
tried to do just that. They perished in extreme misery, however. Let me just
say that I discovered, through experimentation, methods of tormenting my foes
that are so brutal they are disturbing even for me to contemplate. And I have a
high tolerance for evil.”

“Why would you do that to anyone?” asked Lannon,
overwhelmed with disgust.

“To set an example for Dremlock,” said Lord
Hathannis. “A warning that no more assassins should be sent. And guess
what, young Knight—it worked exactly as planned. Dremlock eventually became so
disheartened after learning what had become of its Knights that no more were
sent. I was able to rest easy knowing I was no longer a constant target. Again,
it comes down to intelligence. That is why I am alive and well.”

“Yet you remain a miserable creature,” said
Lannon. “Your life is not worth living, for all you do is make others
suffer. What else do you do in this ugly fortress? You enslave the dead and
spread misery, it seems.”

“Misery in
your
world, Dark Watchman,”
said Lord Hathannis. “Not mine. My world is the realm of Tharnin, where I
once lived like a king. But that’s not all I do. I spend a lot of time
sleeping, actually. If you want to know what else I do here, you’ll have to
exchange information with me. Tell me why you are in the Soddurn Mountains and
why warriors from Bellis are following you.”

Lannon hesitated, wondering if he should agree to the
exchange. He wanted to know what the demon’s plans were, and since Bellis
already knew that Dremlock was seeking the Green Flamestone, telling the demon
didn’t seem to matter.

Lannon told his story.

When he was finished, the demon laughed. “Your quest
was a waste of time. The Green Flamestone was actually lost centuries ago. The
one on Scalmfort Island is a fake, placed there to lead people to their
doom.”

“I don’t believe you,” said Lannon, though he
wasn’t sure.

“I don’t care what you believe,” said the demon.
“But I speak the truth.”

“So what about your story?” asked Lannon.

“I’m guessing you figured most of it out
already,” said the demon. “I have been the true enemy of Dremlock. I
am the real commander of the Blood Legion. And yes, I am in league with
Bellis…to a point. I have been ordering attacks on Dremlock for centuries,
along with my servant Tenneth Bard. Many of the Goblins that cause you so much
trouble come from here. We breed special Goblins in Wallrock Fortress—stronger,
faster, and smarter ones—and this is just the beginning. But I’ve talked
enough, and we have done our little exchange. I am not satisfied with it,
however. I feel cheated. It is time for your death.”

“Answer one more question,” said Lannon.
“What exactly are you, Lord Hathannis? What
is
a Barloak
Demon?” Lannon was hoping his foe would reveal a weakness, though he
thought it unlikely.

“Can’t you see for yourself,” said Lord
Hathannis, “with the Eye of Divinity? So, you can’t even catch a glimpse
of me!”

Lannon didn’t answer, realizing his question had been
foolish.

“Didn’t you have history lessons at Dremlock?”
asked the demon. “Or don’t they teach Knights about the past
anymore?”

“That subject was never discussed,” said Lannon.
“I don’t know why.” Much about the ancient war involving the Barloaks
had never been revealed during his lessons, and books on the subject were
scarce in the kingdom libraries—and the few that dealt with the topic only
gave brief mention.

“Very well,” said Lord Hathannis. “You
should at least know who you’re fighting. I am an Elder Demon from Tharnin. A
spirit creature bound into a body—in this case, the body of a dead Ogre. The
process of my creation makes me immune to the force of living things in your world,
which is why I can remain here even though it is not my original home. All
Barloak Demons are wild spirits bound into flesh.”

“Tell me more about your plans,” said Lannon.

“I’ve told you enough,” came an angry hiss.
“I have your friends as my prisoners, and they are all I need to bargain
with the prince. You are useless to me. It will be a great accomplishment to
slay a Dark Watchman.”

The fog slipped away into the corners and vanished.
Standing before Lannon was the Barloak Demon in the flesh—a nine-foot-tall
giant. His bone-white skin, bald head, and pointed ears were features Lannon
had not been expecting. The demon resembled a human in some ways, and a monster
in others. His mouth was filled with pointed teeth, and there were patches of
scales on his flesh that matched the metallic, golden scales of his loincloth.
A shallow wound in his side—where Lannon’s sword had pierced—was leaking
black blood.

“Here I am, Lannon,” the demon hissed.
“Fight me!”

As Lannon gazed at the pale giant, he was repulsed to the
core. This was a monster that had lived in Lannon’s world for thousands of
years and had inflicted suffering and death on countless victims—a creature
that had originally participated in a war to destroy all life and open the way
for the Deep Shadow.

Lannon focused his attack and then leapt forward, thrusting
his sword at the demon’s heart. But the demon seized the blade with his clawed
hand and tried to yank it viciously from Lannon’s grasp. However, Lannon was
prepared for that trick and his firm grip on the sword did not yield. He pulled
it free of the demon’s hand and stepped back.

Once again mist swirled around Lord Hathannis, until only
the icy blue eyes were visible. “Almost had you, little man. Soon…”

The Eye finally revealed a moving shadow to Lannon that he
assumed was the demon, and he attacked it. His sword was seized again, and he
struggled for possession of the blade. Lannon got so caught up in the struggle
that he let his guard down—and a clawed hand shot from the mist and struck his
chest, knocking him to the floor. He kept his grip on the sword, but the stout
blow had taken the fight out of him for the moment, as he lay winded and in
pain.

Then the demon was standing over him, grinning. “See,
you were too young and inexperienced to defeat me.” With that, he grabbed
Lannon’s neck with both hands and choked him furiously. Lannon fought to break
the demon’s hold—but he seemed to be losing ground.

 
Lannon finally
managed to rip one of the clawed hands away from his throat. Then the demon howled
in pain and staggered away, clutching the back of his head, his blue eyes
rolled back. Standing behind Lord Hathannis was Jace, who was rubbing his
knuckles.

“Finish him, Lannon!” Jace yelled.

Lannon rose, ignoring the pain in his ribs, and locked onto
Lord Hathannis’ head with the Eye. The demon turned, and Lannon hurled his
sword—driving it through the demon’s thick skull.

Lord Hathannis fell to his knees, clutching at the sword.
Then he toppled over and lay still in death, his mouth gaped open and leaking
blood.

Lannon retrieved his sword and stood over the demon’s
corpse, a great sigh of relief escaping his lips.

***

“Well done,” said Jace, patting Lannon on the
shoulder. “You just slew a Barloak Demon, young man—no small
accomplishment. And while this one wasn’t as strong as I had assumed—brains
over brawn, I suppose—only a Dark Watchman could have done this. Make no
mistake, this is your greatest accomplishment, and it is a tremendous victory
for Dremlock and Ollanhar.”

“I had some help,” said Lannon. “A lot of
help.”

“Think nothing of it,” said Jace, smiling.
“You delivered the killing blow, and that’s what history will
remember.”

” Yet I just gave Tenneth Bard a promotion,” said
Lannon. He should have felt better about the victory than he did. Something was
bothering his instincts, but he wasn’t sure what.

Jace’s smile vanished. “Yes…well… Let us not
concern ourselves with that right now. We have some companions to free, and the
prince…” Jace shook his head. “The prince seems to be a bit out of
it.”

“How did you survive?” asked Lannon (though he
wondered why he was bothering to ask, since he already knew he would only get a
vague answer). “I thought that trap had doomed you.”

Jace scratched his head, frowning. “I suppose I
simply…slipped out of its clutches and ran. I can be fairly slippery when I
need to be. I actually can dislocate my shoulders if necessary. Anyway, I
worked my way loose and that’s the story. It took me awhile to figure out where
to go afterward, but I showed up at a good time, obviously. Actually, I had
been hiding behind a table and watching the battle for a bit, waiting for just
such an opportunity. Lord Hathannis thought he was so brilliant, but he made a
huge blunder in assuming that all of us were captured or killed. It’s hard to
believe that after all these centuries he is dead. I can’t help but feel
overjoyed. This calls for a smoke.”

“Let’s free the others,” said Lannon. But before
he went to them, he turned the Eye toward the demon’s body in order to satisfy
whatever inner voice was still nagging him. A shock tore through him—for he
glimpsed life.

“He’s still alive!” Lannon warned.

The fog swarmed over Lord Hathannis as he rose from the
floor. The wound in the pale giant’s forehead had sealed shut. “How can you
slay a creature that is already dead?” the demon asked Lannon.

The Dark Watchman had no answer.

With the fog having engulfed the demon, only his icy blue
eyes were visible. “Only a true Dark Watchman could have destroyed
me,” he went on. “Not a mere lad who pretends to be something he
isn’t.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” said Lannon.
“You should have kept pretending I had finished you and stayed down. The
Eye is only growing stronger, and I
will
find your weakness.”
Lannon meant what he said. Once again the strange battle lust had overcome him,
making his confidence soar, but he had no time to deal with that issue.
“Jace, go and stand by the others. I will end this myself.”