Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1) (8 page)

Vorden
rose and charged at the demon, with only his dagger in hand. But blue lightning
blasted into his chest and he was hurled against the tunnel wall. His armor
glowed red hot where the lightning had struck, and with a cry of pain, he
quickly removed it. Underneath, his tunic was burned through and the flesh
beneath blackened and severely damaged.

Lannon
leapt in front of Vorden and deflected more lightning with the Eye. It took
considerable energy to generate such a shield, and Lannon was quickly tiring.
The wound that Tenneth Bard had inflicted on him burned with pain, sapping his
strength. He wasn’t nearly as resistant to injury as Vorden (who had been
strengthened by the Deep Shadow), and he sensed that if the blue lightning got
past his shield, he would be dead instantly.

Before
the demon head could launch another attack, Lannon hurled his sword at one of
the crystal eyes. He drove it home with all the force and accuracy that his
power would allow, and the blue orb shattered. Yet the other eye launched more
lightning at him, which he again deflected.

Lannon
drew his sword back to his hand and hurled it again, shattering the remaining
crystal eye. The demon howled in anguish and then went silent, having no
further means of attack.

Lannon
retrieved his sword, then examined Vorden. His flesh was burned so deeply
Lannon could see exposed bone. “That looks very bad!” he said,
groaning. The battle had been far more intense than Lannon had expected. He
chastised himself for nearly getting Vorden killed. What had prompted him to
take such a risk?

“I’ll
heal,” said Vorden.

“How
can you heal from that?” asked Lannon, in disbelief. “I need to get
you to Dallsa immediately!”

Vorden’s
expression of agony turned into a sneer. “I’m not just a man anymore,
remember? I’m cursed by the Deep Shadow. It binds my flesh and bone. It is the
same skill that Tenneth Bard possesses. I don’t require a healer, as long as my
heart still beats.” With that, he put his armor on and leaned heavily
against the wall, panting hard from the pain. “We shall continue.”

“Wait
here, then,” said Lannon. “Rest yourself. You’ve just had a hole
burned in your chest. I’ll explore the chamber on my own.” He found
himself disgusted with the Dark Watchmen of ancient times. That door was a
cruel abomination of the Deep Shadow (though Lannon couldn’t deny it had done
its job well in defending whatever lay beyond it, with the scattered bones
telling the tale.)

Vorden
grinned and patted his armor. “Had that energy burned my heart out, I
would be finished. I’m thinking it was a close call. It made my armor so hot
the flesh just melted apart beneath.”

Lannon
realized how close his friend had come to dying. He hesitated, wondering if
they should turn back.

Vorden
waved him on. “Do what you must.”

Lannon
sent the Eye beyond the door to search for danger, but found none. With that,
he pushed on the door with all his might, but it failed to open.

 
Lannon paused to catch his breath. “This
thing just doesn’t want to budge. I think it’s rusted shut or something.”

Vorden
staggered over to him. “Let me help.”

Lannon
shook his head. “Don’t try it, Vorden.”

Vorden
ignored him and, grunting, pushed on the door. Lannon did the same, and with a
screech of metal, it opened inward.

Vorden
paused, swaying, and Lannon thought he might topple over. Then Vorden motioned
him along. “I’m fine. Just a bit dizzy. The pain is getting dulled a bit.
It’s the dark sorcery…flooding into the wound.”

They
entered a round chamber which held a bulky iron furnace at the center. Pipes
from the furnace vanished into the walls and ceiling. Blocks of wood and lumps
of coal stood in heaps nearby. Beyond the furnace was another passageway.

“What
do you make of that?” asked Lannon.

“It’s
a furnace,” said Vorden. “Obviously.”

“I
know that,” said Lannon. “But what do you think it was for? Heating
purposes, or something else? Forging weapons, maybe?”

Vorden
examined the rusty device. He traced his finger over some Dwarven runes
engraved in the iron. “I see no evidence of a forge. I would guess it once
heated the tower in winter. Too bad the East Tower of Dremlock didn’t have one
of these to warm the upper chambers. It was always freezing cold in
there.”

“Odd
place for it, though,” said Lannon. “Of course, it was probably
installed when the Dark Watchmen were still alive and it was safe to come down
here. Now, because of the ghosts, it’s pretty much useless.”

“Too
bad,” said Vorden. “Come winter, we’ll wish we could make use of it.
Maybe we can locate another route to this chamber. Or make one.”

They moved on into the
passageway. It ended at another iron door—this one protected by a wheel lock.
Lannon sighed.

Vorden
glared at him. “Just give it a try. You used to open wheel locks all the
time at Dremlock.”

Lannon
let the Eye of Divinity guide his hands. He sensed this lock wasn’t as
sophisticated as the one that guarded the safe above, and after a single
attempt a loud click arose. Lannon shoved open the door.

The
chamber beyond was a small museum of sorts. Various items lay atop wooden
stands. Most of the items held little meaning for Lannon and Vorden (a book of
Birlote poetry and one concerning Olrog machines, a rusty iron candle holder
shaped like a serpent, a lump of green crystal that appeared to have been
melted, three iron darts, and a pair of steel gauntlets). There was also an
Olrog helm made of impure Glaetherin and a rare Birlote war shield covered with
gleaming spikes.

Wincing
in pain, Vorden lifted the ugly helm, which had square eyeholes and horns that
made it look almost demonic. “I was nearly killed for this? Only a Grey
Dwarf could wear this monstrosity. Maybe Daledus would want it.”

Lannon
lifted one of the iron darts and examined it, then laid it back down.
“That helm and shield are worth a lot of silver. I think this is a great
find for Ollanhar.” He watched with concern as Vorden lost his grip on the
helm and it clattered to the floor. Vorden slumped against the wall, breathing
hard.

“I
still think you need a healer,” said Lannon.

But
Vorden waved him away angrily. “No, I just need some rest. There is
nothing in here that I want. Bunch of junk.”

“What about the shield?” asked Lannon, his gaze
fixed on the round, gleaming object that lay atop one of the wooden stands. He
read the inscription below it, written in the Sacred Text that only a Dark
Watchman could read:

King Gormanol’s War Shield

Lannon
was impressed. “Looks like it belonged to a Birlote King.”

“I
don’t carry a shield,” said Vorden. “It would just get in my way.
More useful to a Brown Knight. Besides, I would end up melting it into ruin,
and it’s obviously worth a lot of money, not to mention its historical
value.”

“If
you want the shield,” said Lannon, “take it. You deserve it, my
friend. Maybe Dremlock doesn’t think you’re important enough to be given an
elite weapon, but I do. If you end up melting it in battle, so be it. It’s made
of Birlote steel, though, so it’s probably fairly durable.”

“If
it’s not Glaetherin,” said Vorden, “it
will
melt.”

Lannon
turned away in frustration. “I don’t know what else to say. You’re not in
any shape to do more exploring, and neither am I, actually. And if you won’t
see a healer, than at least get some rest.”

Lannon
started toward the door, but when he heard no footsteps behind him, he paused
and turned. “Are you coming?”

Vorden
lifted the spiked shield. He gazed at it in the torchlight, tracing his finger
over the Birlote runes that encircled its edge. He poked at one of the spikes.
“Well, it’s better than nothing, I guess.”

“Are
you going to make it?” asked Lannon, his concern growing by the moment.
Each step seemed to cause Vorden terrible pain.

“That
demon struck a rather stout blow.” Vorden smiled. “Where’s a good
shield when you need one?”

“Right
in your hand,” said Lannon. “Just don’t melt it.”

Chapter 5:

The
Lawkeeper and His Bitter Tongue

The
next morning, Vorden was still in rough shape. Dallsa took him into her care,
bringing him food and water. However, Vorden would not allow her to examine or
treat his wound, even though he was running a very high fever and seemed to be
in intense pain. Everyone at Ollanhar was deeply concerned. Based on Lannon’s
description of the battle, they knew Vorden had received a wound that would
have killed a lesser Knight instantly. Dallsa was afraid that malicious sorcery
might have invaded Vorden’s flesh and was continuing to do damage, but Vorden
dismissed her concern, pointing out that he was already infested with dark
sorcery and that a little more of it wouldn’t harm him.

Lannon,
on the other hand, was feeling much better physically. As the morning sun cast
its golden light over the tower grounds, he stood beneath the ancient apple
tree that was still wet from the dew. He blamed himself for Vorden’s condition
and vowed that in the future he alone would explore Ollanhar Tower. Only a Dark
Watchman was meant to venture into the forbidden places and unlock the secrets
of the keep. He told himself that he had been a fool for taking Vorden on such
an adventure.

Dallsa
emerged from the tower and approached, shaking her head in frustration.
“Why does Vorden have to be so stubborn? He’s risking his life to prove a
point, and…well…it’s just stupid.”

Lannon
nodded. She was right, but there was nothing to be done about it. Lannon had
given up on trying to reason with Vorden.

“You
seem calm,” she said, “considering the situation.” She glared at
him. “Why are you always so calm, Lannon?”

Lannon
brushed a leaf from his cloak, and said nothing. He wanted to be alone. He was
calm because he had trained himself to be calm, because being a Divine Knight
and a Dark Watchman required great mental focus. He had learned to keep his
emotions in check and put duty ahead of everything else, so that fear and other
blinding forces would not disrupt his clarity. Dallsa, however, had not yet
been properly trained, and her emotions often ran wild.

She
pressed close to him. Her black hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and her
round, pale face was inches from his own. “What was Vorden doing down
there, anyway? I thought that area was forbidden to anyone but you. That was a
rule established by you and Aldreya.”

She
was close enough Lannon thought she might try to kiss him. He turned away.
“I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t taken him down there. I felt sorry for him
because he doesn’t have a suitable weapon. I thought we might find one.”

“You
risked his life for a weapon?” she said, wrapping her arms around him. Her
eyes were wide with disbelief. “That’s not like you, Lannon.”

Lannon
pulled away from her and leaned against the apple tree. “You’re right.
What can I say? I just wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“What
can’t I give you a hug?” she asked, looking annoyed. “Aren’t you my
friend?”

“We’re
definitely friends,” said Lannon, feeling uncomfortable. “But the
Sacred Laws…”

“What
about them?” she asked, hands on her hips. “Are you trying to say I
want more than just friendship?”

“Kind
of,” he admitted. He was guessing his face had gone red.

She
frowned. “And what if that were true?”

“The
Sacred Laws forbid it, Dallsa,” he said sternly. “Therefore, it would
be impossible.”

She
gazed at him for a moment, then nodded. “You’ll never break the Sacred
Laws. At least, not for something like…” She sighed. “I know you
too well. You’re way too stubborn for that.” There was a hint of pain in
her eyes.

Dallsa
did know him well. Lannon would not break the Sacred Laws for Dallsa, even
though he had broken those laws before. He had matured since then, and his
belief in Dremlock and Ollanhar was too important to him. In fact, it bothered
him that she had even considered such a thing.

“Are
you happy with your life,” Lannon asked. “As a healer?”

“Yes,”
she said. “And no, I wasn’t intending to break the Sacred Laws. I
just…wanted to know where you stood.”

“But
you already knew,” he pointed out.

“Yes,”
she said, and again there was a hint of pain in her eyes. “But I needed to
hear you say it. Now I’ll just forget about it.”

“Can
you?” he asked.

She
gazed back defiantly. “I can, and I
will
.”

Lannon
let the issue rest and examined the apple tree, with its mossy trunk and
sprawling branches that hung low and touched the ground. This tree had once
been thoroughly infested with the Deep Shadow, but Dallsa had worked tirelessly
at freeing it and some of the evil sorcery had diminished. Strength and
wholesomeness was returning to the tree once again, and perhaps eventually it
would bear delicious fruit that one could eat without fear of being infected by
darkness. The Birlotes had planted this tree, and it was special—able to live
for centuries. The fruit had once contained healing properties, filling the
body with vigor.

Lannon
patted the trunk. “I could use a good apple right now.”

“Me
too,” said Dallsa, pinching his arm. “But if I may have your
attention, High Watchman, a visitor just entered the grounds. And he looks to
be from Bellis Kingdom.”

***

The
man who approached—a sour-faced Birlote—was well over six-feet tall and dressed
in an extravagant crimson cloak with gold trim. He walked with a slight limp,
dragon cane in hand. His silver hair stuck up in odd spikes, and his facial
features were devilish even by Birlote standards. His skin was somewhat pale
for a Tree Dweller. He carried a leather satchel under one arm. He was flanked
by four Guardians—the Golden Knights of Bellis—and twelve warriors armed with
deadly crossbows that fired exploding arrows. Two Thallite giants—each over
ten-feet tall and defended by stout crimson armor—walked at the rear, holding
banners that displayed the Crest of Bellis. It was an impressive force.

The
leader strode up to Lannon with such vigor that Lannon’s hand instinctively
tightened around his sword hilt. But the newcomer only glared down at him and
said, “I’m seeking the Green Knight of Ollanhar or the High
Watchman.”

Lannon
introduced himself.

He
gazed at Lannon with utter disdain. “I am the Lawkeeper of Bellis. My name
is Karlus. I request a meeting be held at once.”

Dallsa
opened her mouth to say something, but Lannon gave her a warning nudge.
“Meetings are usually scheduled in advance.”

The
Lawkeeper nodded. “We sent a bird bearing the request.”

“It
never arrived,” said Lannon, a shadow of dread settling over him. Why had
Bellis sent such mighty warriors to Ollanhar? Was this a prelude to another
war? Four Guardians and two Thallites suggested the situation was at least
extremely serious. It also suggested Bellis was anticipating a possible fight.
But why? What news could Bellis deliver that would lead to such a conflict?

“That’s
not my problem,” said the Lawkeeper. “I came a long way to meet with
the Council of Ollanhar. Are you turning me away?” His tone of voice
promised doom if Lannon refused him.

It’s
not mine, either
,
Lannon thought. But instead he merely shrugged. “We can hold a meeting. I
will gather the Council.”

“Our
horses are in the trail,” said the Lawkeeper. “I request that they be
given a stable and tended to properly. Also, there are valuables in our packs.
I would be most displeased if they came up missing.”

Dallsa’s
face reddened with anger. “No one is going to steal your valuables. We’re
not thieves.”

The
Lawkeeper ignored her. “What say you, Sunshield?”

Lannon
nodded. Rudeness would only work against him. “I’ll send someone to look
after your horses. Meanwhile, you can come inside for food and drink.” He
glanced at the two giants. “Unfortunately, our tower isn’t designed for
guests as large as those Thallites…”

The
Lawkeeper’s face was stony. “They can stand.”

***

The
only members of the Council of Ollanhar present for the meeting were Aldreya,
Lannon, Dallsa, and Jerret. Early that morning, Furlus had taken the others on
a mission to investigate claims of a Goblin attack on a nearby village and it
was not known when they would return. Vorden, of course, remained in his
bedchamber, still deeply wounded.

They
gathered in the Entrance Chamber, where Dallsa served drinks and snacks. The
Lawkeeper seemed impatient, wanting to get on with the discussion. His Knights
and Thallite Giants filled the room, muscular warriors adorned with gleaming
weapons and armor, their faces cold in the sunlight that streamed in through
the windows. Also present was a scribe. They all stood like statues while the
Lawkeeper sat at the table indulging in wine and cheese.

“Have
some food and drink,” said Lannon, to the scribe and the warriors. He
motioned for them to sit.

“It
is not allowed,” said the Lawkeeper. “Our kingdom is not like
Dremlock. Our warriors follow a strict and precise routine that they do not
deviate from unless forced to. They will eat later.”

“If
they must,” said Lannon, feeling grateful he wasn’t a Knight of Bellis.
“There is plenty of food and drink, though.”

The
Lawkeeper gave a mocking smile. “Yes, the Divine Knights love to indulge
and make merry. Softens both the will and the belly.”

Jerret
tapped his stomach. “Hard as stone, Lawkeeper.” He gazed at the
Lawkeeper with open contempt.

“But
no brain inside the skull, barbarian,” came a whisper from Bellis’
Knights. That prompted some grins and quiet laughter.

Jerret
rose from his chair, hand on his broadsword. Aside from the Thallite Giants, he
was the largest and most muscular warrior in the room. He gazed at Bellis’
elite fighters. “Who speaks?”

No
one answered. Sneering, Jerret sat down again.

The
Lawkeeper waved at Jerret dismissively. “I have no time to debate the
differences in our kingdoms.” He sipped at his wine, looking displeased
with the flavor, and then motioned Lannon to sit. “Let us proceed.”

Reluctantly,
Lannon sat down. He was hoping the others would return in time for the meeting.
He especially wanted Furlus present. Furlus was second in command at Dremlock
and would know how to deal with a fellow like this Lawkeeper. Also, Ollanhar
Tower was nearly deserted, and with some of Bellis’ mightiest warriors crowded
into the room, Lannon was left feeling a bit nervous. Aldreya’s face was stony,
but he sensed she was anxious as well.

“I
shall get right to the point,” said the Lawkeeper.

“Before
you do that,” said Lannon, “would you prefer to wait for a bit?
Furlus and the others should be back before long.” In truth, Lannon had no
idea how long Furlus would be gone, but he wanted to give the Tower Master a
chance to return. If this meeting was as important as Lannon suspected it was,
then Dremlock Kingdom would need to be directly involved.

“I
suggest we wait,” said Aldreya.

The
Lawkeeper plopped his satchel onto the table. “Waiting does not appeal to
me. I have a very long journey ahead. Are the two of you not in charge here?”

“We
are the leaders,” said Aldreya.

“And
do you represent both Ollanhar and Dremlock?” he went on. He lit up a
pipe, took a puff, and made a gagging noise.

“To
some degree,” said Aldreya. “But we are not on the High Council of
Dremlock. We do not speak for the Divine Kingdom. If you want Dremlock to be a
part of this, you’ll have to wait for Furlus.”

“Is
this your best tobacco?” the Lawkeeper asked. “I find it appalling!
Is this some wretched Olrog smoke? Or even worse, Norack leaf?”

“Norack,”
Lannon replied. “The best we have, currently.”

The
Lawkeeper glowered. “Is this how you treat respectable guests? The wine is
bland, the cheese worthy of contempt, and the tobacco enough to choke a man
with its foul aura. I am extremely disheartened, and the discussion has yet to
begin. If you want this tiny kingdom to be taken seriously, you need to make
some major improvements. At the moment, Ollanhar is simply pathetic.”

“Pathetic?”
Anger gripped Lannon. “Is that why Bellis sends four Guardians, two
Thallites, and a number of elite Knights?”

“Calm
yourself, Lannon,” Aldreya whispered in his ear.

“I’m
fine,” he mumbled back.

The
Lawkeeper pounded the table with his fist, spilling his wine. “Serving
girl!” he bellowed. “Clean up this mess!”

Dallsa’s
teeth clenched in anger.

“Take
care of it, Dallsa,” Aldreya commanded.

Reluctantly,
she did as ordered. She poured him more wine and plopped it down.
“Anything else, your lordship?” Her voice was heavy with sarcasm.
When the Lawkeeper didn’t respond, she sat down.

“By
the way, your lordship,” said Dallsa, ignoring a warning glance from
Aldreya, “since I am
on
the Council of Ollanhar and not just your
average serving girl, I think I better refrain from fetching drinks for the
remainder of the meeting so I can pay attention to the discussion and record it
properly!” She slammed a stack of papers down before her and began writing
on them furiously.