Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (17 page)

"I would second it," said Jerret, "but I'm
no longer a Divine Knight. A lowly mercenary like me doesn't get a say in
official matters."

"What about you, Lothrin?" asked Dallsa.

Lothrin sighed. "Lannon has decided, and I don't feel
it's acceptable for me to try to order him around. Therefore, no vote."

"I'm actually in favor of Lannon's idea," said
Jace. "Yes, it is a bit unsettling, but I think it's the best way to
proceed."

Unable to vote, the three Rangers sat with bowed heads.

"So that's it, then," said Dallsa, looking glum.
"Well, goodbye, Lannon. I hope you don't get tortured and murdered."

Lannon took Dallsa aside to talk to her alone.
"Listen, try to relax and not worry about me. I'll be fine."

"That's impossible," she said. "I'm going to
worry. And why do you care? We're Divine Knights. There is nothing between us,
right?"

"We have friendship," said Lannon. "A deep
friendship." He considered the implications of that, then put the thought
out of his mind. He cleared his throat and then mumbled, "The Sacred Laws
forbid anything more, of course. But yes, I do care about your feelings."

"Then don't go," she said. "If you go, I'll
be hurt."

"I have to go," he said. "Duty demands it.
I'm sorry, Dallsa."

She nodded, then simply walked away.

***

After switching swords with Prince Vannas, Lannon
approached the Hill Dwarves. He walked alone, boldly facing the Malrogs who had
many arrows pointed at him. "Don't shoot," he called out to them.
"I surrender."

They regarded Lannon with suspicion. After all, why would
he willingly surrender to them, knowing the consequences? They didn't move,
except for the swaying of their reddish beards in the breeze.

"I'm being sincere," Lannon said. "I'm doing
it for my companions, who are on an important mission. I'm making a
sacrifice." He raised his hands. "Go ahead, take me prisoner. Take my
sword."

The Dwarves glanced at each other.

The Elder, Henati, spoke. "We don't trust you. There
is no fear in your eyes. Why is there no fear?"

Lannon shrugged. "Why should there be? You're not
going to kill me, right? I'm assuming you're going to give me a beating or
imprison me for a while. I could even work for you to pay for the loss of the
house."

"Earlier you feared being murdered," Henati pointed
out.

"I did," said Lannon. "But my companions
have convinced me not to worry. They assured me that you Hill Dwarves don't
behave that way." This last bit of talk was such a blatant lie that Lannon
feared they would see right through it. But the Dwarves only gave each other
another glance.

"What if your companions are wrong?" said Henati.
"What if they are lying to you, just so they can move on and leave you to
die?"

"I trust them fully," said Lannon, trying to
sound naive. "With all my heart. They would never lie to me. They're
Divine Knights."

"Dremlock isn't what it used to be," said Henati.
"Yes, we hear things even this far from your homeland."

Lannon turned his back to the Dwarves. He put his hands
behind him. "Stop trying to scare me. I know you won't kill me."

A Malrog quickly locked irons onto his wrists. They took
his sword, then gagged him so he couldn't voice any protests.

"Your so-called friends lied to you," Henati
whispered in his ear. Lannon could smell the old Dwarf's sour breath. "You
are
going to die, and it will be painful. You wretched outsider! You
filth! How dare you make trouble in our lands? Before this execution is
finished, you'll beg for a knife in your heart."

Chapter
9:

The Joyous Execution
Ceremony

Lannon was blindfolded and led away, but he could still
see. No simple piece of cloth could block the Eye of Divinity. As the Dwarves
shoved him along through the hills, he was aware of everything around
him--aware of the anger and hatred they felt for him and their desire to murder
him. He was an outsider, a threat to their land and way of life, and they would
show him no mercy.

"How far are we going?" he asked. It had been at
least three hours with no rest. Panting and grunting Dwarves were all around
him as they trudged along the hillsides. When no one answered, he asked again.
This display of persistence earned him a punch to the back, which he blocked
with the Eye. Though the blow didn't hurt him, the Dwarf who administered it
didn't know that.

"How did that feel, outsider?" the Dwarf growled.
"There's more where that came from. Try walking these hills with a wounded
back."

"No thanks," said Lannon. "It's hard enough
walking them while healthy. Why would I want to make it worse?"

"Your smart mouth will make it worse," came the reply.

"I just asked a simple question," said Lannon.
"I wasn't trying to annoy anyone. It just seems like we're on a rather
long journey."

"A long journey indeed, and your last." It was
Henati who spoke. "Enjoy the fresh air and the feel of the earth beneath
your feet, for soon you will know the wonders of life no more."

"This is pointless," said Lannon. "What is
there to be gained from my death? Why not just let me go. Do you enjoy cruelty,
Henati?"

Lannon received another blow to the spine.

"Don't insult an Elder!" the Dwarf warned.

"Let the fool speak," said Henati. "He
obviously wants to anger us even further. Soon he will know only pain for his
trouble."

"The fool would like an answer," said Lannon.
"Or maybe you don't have an answer to give, because you know this is
wrong."

"I don't enjoy being cruel," said Henati. "I
enjoy preserving our way of life and protecting these hills from troublesome
outsiders like you. What we gain from your death is our own survival. Even
Bellis Kingdom is afraid to deal with us and leaves us alone. When your head is
placed on a pole by the roadside, it will serve as a warning to tread carefully
in these lands."

"I think I understand," said Lannon. "You
were just waiting for an excuse to execute an outsider. And when I accidentally
knocked down the house, you found one. Congratulations, you must be
overjoyed."

"We weren't waiting for anything," said Henati.
"You came to us and made trouble. It has led you to a bad end. It's not
our fault. We're not thieves or invaders. We didn't go looking for you or
ambush you in the road. All we ask is to be left alone, and you lacked the
courtesy or wisdom to comply."

Lannon fell silent for a moment, overcome with frustration.
The ancient Dwarf seemed to have an answer for everything, but Henati refused
to acknowledge that killing Lannon was wrong. Lannon wondered if he was wasting
his time arguing with him. Henati was obviously firmly set in his ways.

"You're an arrogant young Knight," said Henati.
"You've already decided us Malrogs are lowlife savages. But you know
nothing of our ways. We do what we must, and yes, we will celebrate your
death--for it gives us life."

"That's absurd," said Lannon. "Killing me
won't prove anything. People avoid confronting you because you're fierce
warriors like all Dwarves, and not because of your cruelty. You could spare me
and nothing would change."

"Over the centuries," said Henati, "we built
a reputation for dealing harshly with outsiders who stray from the road. That
reputation preserves us in these troubled times. Your death is a necessary
thing. As a very old man, I understand the ways of life and death better than
most. You are now part of our system, young Knight, and your forthcoming death
is a natural part of that system. It is not evil at work--it is
life
at
work, in all its glory, joy, beauty, horror, and sadness. Life is a great gift,
and death is very much a part of it. It is the way of nature."

"Wise words," said Lannon. "But murder is
murder."

"Is it?" said Henati. He spoke close to Lannon's
ear. "In your culture, murder is one thing. In ours it is quite another.
Every culture is different--how they think, feel, love, hate, kill, worship,
reason, or create. You want to see good and evil in simple terms--universal
terms. But the universe doesn't work that way. What is evil and corrupt to some
is good and wholesome to others. Your torment and death has great meaning to
us. It is wholesome and sustaining to our society."

"Then you're twisted," said Lannon. "There
are true standards of good and evil that can be supported by logic. You just
deny them."

"Is a pack of wolves evil," asked Henati,
"because they decide to eat you and fill their bellies to survive?"

"Wolves don't know right from wrong," said
Lannon. "Therefore, your comparison isn't valid."

"You're not too bright," said Henati, sighing.
"Your ignorance makes you stubborn. A wolf knows that when it bites into
your flesh, you will bleed. It knows you will die. And yet it chooses to
proceed, because to the wolf there is no shame in killing you to preserve the
pack."

"This conversation is foolish," said Lannon,
growing more frustrated by the moment. "Killing me is wrong. There's no
way to justify it."

Henati didn't answer.

Lannon was left feeling defeated. The eldest of the Malrogs
was obviously incredibly wise. Lannon was certain Henati was simplifying his
argument so Lannon could understand it. Lannon wanted to show Henati that his
beliefs were wrong, but how could one argue with someone who was hundreds of
years old and had seen it all? Lannon felt like the young fool Henati accused
him of being. He wanted to bring up the Divine Essence and its teachings, but
he knew Henati would simply mock and dismiss such things. If Lannon couldn't
use pure logic to refute him, he had no hope of swaying Henati to his opinion.

It was an odd situation, because Lannon didn't need to
change Henati's opinion at all. Lannon's only plan was to break free and
escape, whenever he felt the time was right. But Lannon was compelled to argue
his point--to show this ancient Dwarf that killing outsiders over petty
transgressions was wrong. Yet Lannon was off to a poor start in the debate.

"We shall argue again later," said Henati,
"before you eat your final meal. You have at least tried, in your own
pathetic way, to convince me to spare your life. And you are courageous--if not
laughably stupid--for surrendering to us at the urging of your companions. I
have considered the possibility that you have some plan in mind. After all, you
are a Divine Knight."

"No plan," Lannon said, "except to stay
alive."

"Perhaps you are a trickster," said Henati.
"A sorcerer, who knows how to escape chains or toss around fire.
Tricksters are dangerous, with your pretend magic that fools the mind and
eye."

"Pretend magic?" said Lannon. It struck him as
astounding that after centuries of being alive this Malrog didn't believe
sorcery was real.

"Yes, pretend magic," said Henati. "I'm well
aware that all Divine Knights are tricksters to some extent--masters of fire.
But the sorcerers amongst you are even more skilled and dangerous. You create
illusions and have knowledge of potions that generate flame. You rub your
blades with these potions and make them burn." He yawned. "All of
this is well known."

"Knightly sorcery is real," said Lannon.
"It's given to us by the Divine Essence. There are no tricks involved
whatsoever."

"A god no one has ever seen," mused Henati.
"You Knights are such amazing liars. I think you even tend to believe your
own lies at times. Everyone beyond Silverland knows that Dremlock uses trickery
to intimidate others. Bellis does the same thing, as do the Birlotes and
Olrogs. Strange kingdoms filled with secrecy and magicians. Yet all you really
care about is power and expansion."

"What about your own history?" said Lannon.
"Weren't the Malrogs corrupted by the Deep Shadow once? Didn't it give you
strange abilities?"

"Mere mythology," said Henati. "At least as
far as the strange abilities go. We have no such powers. We're simple folk who
live off the land. We have nothing to do with the Deep Shadow these days. That
force of destruction is long gone from the world. All that remains are Goblins
and a few stinking marshes."

Lannon was baffled. "The Deep Shadow is still
threatening our land, Henati. It's still making war on us. I can't believe you
don't know this."

"Another lie of Dremlock," said Henati. "You
want people to believe the Deep Shadow is still a threat, so you can sell them
the cure. Divine Knights--the great heroes of Silverland in your wealthy little
kingdom." His voice was overflowing with mockery. "It's all one big
ruse to keep yourselves in business."

Lannon fell silent. The lies people believed about Dremlock
and the Divine Essence were very disturbing to him, but he sensed it was such a
widespread problem that he had no hope of correcting it.

"Why do I even bother?" Lannon mumbled to
himself. He bowed his head, feeling gloomy and helpless in the face of such
ignorance.

A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder. It was Henati.
"Don't fret, young man. I'm sure you've done some good in life as a
Knight."

"Thanks," said Lannon. He knew he should let the
conversation end there, but he added, "Now I feel better about being
murdered."

Henati shoved him away. "Sarcastic tongue. I was
having a moment of sympathy for you, but you ended that!"

***

A few hours later, they came to a winding, raging river and
went down it on rafts. It was a harrowing journey, as rocks threatened them at
every turn. But the Malrogs were experts at navigating the churning waters with
their long wooden poles, and the rafts featured iron rings that one could hold
onto in order to avoid getting tossed into the current and swept away. The
river itself was magnificent, with rocky cliffs, waterfalls, and lush hills all
around it.

At last the river ride ended and they encountered a trail
that led them up to a broad hilltop where an oak hall stood. Lannon's blindfold
was removed. They passed several houses nestled amongst the trees. The yards
here were clean, for this was a village where the Malrog Elders lived called
Stone Heart. This was where all the important decisions were made. It was a
beautiful forested hilltop adorned with intricate wooden buildings and
statues--vastly different from the crumbling houses and junk-filled yards
Lannon had observed in other areas. A warm, positive feeling hung in the air, a
feeling of purpose, authority, and wisdom. This didn't seem like a hilltop
where a brutal execution would take place.

Lannon was taken into a small, square building with dungeon
cells below it. He was locked in one of the cells to await his trial. A single,
silent guard was left to watch over him and two other prisoners. The other
prisoners were walled off from Lannon, but he could glimpse them with the Eye.
They were Malrogs (with one being half Olrog as well), and like the guard they
were sullen and quiet.

Lannon found himself alone with his thoughts and bored,
wondering when he should escape. He wanted to give his companions time to
depart from the Oldermar Hills, but he had no idea how long that would take. He
decided to wait right up until the moment of his planned execution before
breaking free.

His trial was delayed for the night and most of the next
day. During that time, Lannon sat in his cell feeling restless. His meals were
bland but acceptable, consisting of tough, boiled meat and unseasoned
vegetables, with stale bread. He was given plenty of water to drink.

At last, Lannon was taken into the oak hall--the
Council
Hall
, as it was called--and was made to sit on a bench at the front of the
building. Two guards with crossbows stood nearby, ready to shoot if he tried
anything. Lannon glanced about, impressed. The hall featured colorful
stained-glass windows through which daylight filtered in. Carvings of important
Malrogs from ages past lined the walls, stern and stately figures holding books
or weapons or scepters. Bookshelves positioned behind the Council's table at
the head of the room held many thick tomes.

"Here you will be judged," Henati told Lannon.
"Consider yourself lucky. Not all prisoners are brought here and not all
receive a fair trial. Most just simply disappear in the forest, never to be
seen again."

"They're murdered," said Lannon, "by your
people."

Henati shrugged. "Here we make the laws of the
Oldermar Hills, but we can't control everyone. This land is vast, and my people
must fend for themselves. They deal out justice when it is necessary."

Lannon nodded. "So if they get drunk and kill someone
over a petty transgression, what's done is done. No one is held accountable,
right? This is a savage land of barbarians, and no fancy village or hall
changes that fact."

"We're a kingdom, actually," said Henati.
"But one without a king--much like Dremlock. Our Council of Elders
presides over this kingdom. We're not barbarians, for we have law and order in
these hills. Yes, the Malrogs love to drink, and many of us are slobs. But many
Noracks are slobs too. What sort of home did you grow up in, young Knight? Was
it perfect?"

Far from it
, Lannon thought.

"But unlike you Noracks," Henati went on, when
Lannon failed to answer, "we have nothing but love and support for each
other. We treat each other's homes with respect, no matter how unsightly those
homes might be."