Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (19 page)

"Always," said Henati, pride in his voice.
"When justice comes to this hilltop, it is a great cause for
celebration." He waved dismissively at Lannon. "Don't try to
understand it. You come from a world where people betray and backstab each
other every day, where hatred and jealously lead to warfare. Yet here in the
Oldermar Hills we have peace and unity. Yet you dare to question our way of
life--you who make war on others so your perverse kingdom can profit?"

"You're a coward and a bully," said Lannon,
gazing at him in defiance. "For all your wise talk, that's all you are.
You torment and kill helpless prisoners because it makes you feel important.
Isn't that the truth of it? It's not about preserving your way of life. You just
like to show your power."

Henati's face twisted into a scowl. "I have been very
patient with you, yet you're too limited to understand anything I've told you.
All that's left for you is to be crushed!" He clenched his hand into a
broad fist.

"Crush me, then," Lannon said, overwhelmed with
disgust. "Show me your power while I'm in chains."

"You dare mock me, boy?" snarled Henati, his
Dwarven temper coming to life. "It's time you learned to respect your
elders!"

To the delight of the crowd, a red-hot branding iron was
handed to Henati. The Supreme Elder glowered at Lannon. "I may be very
old, but I'm still a Dwarf! I still feel a Dwarf's rage and a Dwarf's sense of
justice! You will soon beg for mercy, outsider, and yet you shall be given
none!"

The crowd went into a frenzy, and a portion of the fence
caved in. The guards had to push some of them back.

The time for debate was over. Lannon Sunshield had lost in
a miserable fashion. Not only had he failed to convince Henati that his
thinking was immoral, but he had seemed to invigorate and strengthen the Malrog
Elder. Now only one thing remained for Lannon--a show of brute force. Lannon
realized that when all else failed, people inevitably resorted to threats,
intimidation, or raw power to achieve their goals. The concept of it left him
feeling empty inside. How could Henati be so blind to the truth and so
confident he was right? Surely Henati saw Lannon the same way. But none of it
mattered now. The issue would be decided as so many things were--by battle.

Sneering, Henati shoved the branding iron against Lannon's
chest. "Now feel the burn of Malrog justice, you lawbreaking wretch!"
The Supreme Elder had lost himself to Dwarven battle lust, his body shaking
with fury.

Lannon gazed sternly at Henati, letting the power of the
Eye do the talking for him. Puzzled by Lannon's response, Henati pushed harder.

"You can't harm me," said Lannon. "For all
your supposed wisdom, you realize the truth too late. You have failed!"
Lannon was frustrated with his own failure and wanted to show Henati that he
too had fallen short of his goals.

Henati's eyes widened and he backed away. Lannon's chest
was unmarked. The crowd gasped in disbelief.

"Trickster!" Henati shouted, pointing at Lannon.

Doomar grinned. "Now that's quite a sight!" the
condemned Dwarf bellowed, rattling his chains. "Not a blemish to be seen.
You must be made of iron, Lannon." His muscles bugled as he strained
against the chains with renewed vigor, for he sensed the possibly of escape.

Overcome with shock and bloodlust, Henati threw down the
branding iron and draw his long dagger. "I'll gut you, wretch!" he
shouted. With surprising speed and agility for his age, he leapt at Lannon in
an attempt to drive the knife through the Dark Watchman's heart.

Lannon broke free of his irons just in time to seize
Henati's arm. He snatched away the Elder's dagger and flung it against a
tree--burying it to the hilt in the oak. He shoved the ancient Dwarf away, as
the guards closed in. Henati crashed into the three other Elders and knocked over
their chairs. All four Elders lay in the dirt, cursing and muttering, as a gasp
arose from the crowd.

"Wonderful," Lannon mumbled to himself as he
glanced at the fallen Elders. He hadn't intended to shove Henati quite so hard.
Lannon was quickly becoming the most hated enemy of the Malrogs.

The guards attacked Lannon with berserk fury in defense of
their toppled leaders. Lannon struck back quickly, hurling Dwarves away from
him left and right and knocking other Malrogs to the ground.

Lannon then sought to free Doomar from his irons, while
still fending off attackers. Hammers and long knives lashed out at him, but
Lannon pushed back with the Eye, creating a barrier around him and Doomar. At
last Lannon ripped the irons apart, and the oversized Malrog was free.

 
His face grim with
purpose, Doomar punched a fallen guard who was trying to rise and took the
man's hammer. The massive Dwarf then killed a guard with a blow so fierce it
shattered the fellow's skull.

Lannon hurled a Malrog into the fence, knocking over
several Dwarven youths. Then he seized Doomar and said, "I need to carry
you."

"No man carries me," said Doomar.

"We'll never escape," said Lannon, "unless
we move fast."

"Very well," the Dwarf said, with a sigh.
"This is an embarrassment, but I'm not going to argue with you. Do what
you must."

Lannon lifted Doomar over his shoulder and fled, drawing on
every last bit of the Eye to give him strength. He broke through the crowd like
a battering ram and then was hurtling along through the dark forest.

"This is impossible," said Doomar. "How can
you see?"

"I'll tell you later," said Lannon, not wanting
to expend any energy on talking.

"You're not human," said Doomar.

"Yes, I am," said Lannon. "Just
different."

"Why didn't you kill any of them?' Doomar asked.
"You should have at least killed Henati. That wretch deserved death long
ago."

"No need for bloodshed," said Lannon,
"unless given no choice."

"You have a noble heart," said Doomar. "Then
you're probably not too pleased with me for killing that guard back there. I
actually didn't mean to hit him that hard. I was just trying to knock him out,
not crush his skull."

"I don't blame you," said Lannon. "We were
in a fight for survival. Sometimes it's hard to show mercy when you're
surrounded."

"Yet you showed mercy," said Doomar.

"I did what I could," said Lannon.
"Sometimes I'm forced to kill as well. Tonight wasn't one of those
times."

Lannon stumbled over a log and nearly went down. After
catching his balance, he paused. "I really shouldn't be talking, as it
wastes precious energy. And I'm going to end up tripping or running into a
tree."

"I'll shut my mouth," said Doomar. "Though I
have to say I don't fancy being carried like a baby. Utterly
embarrassing."

"I can put you down," said Lannon. "But
you'll probably get caught."

A moment of silence followed.

"I'll endure the shame," Doomar said at last, his
deep voice somber.

***

After they had continued for sometime, Lannon paused to
rest on a hillside. They sat down in the leaves, sweat dripping from their foreheads,
listening carefully for sounds of pursuit. It was a hot night, and animal
noises came from all around, but there was no sign of the Malrogs.

"Thanks for rescuing me, friend," said Doomar.
"I was certain my time had come, that I would die on that post. I prayed
to the Great Light to save me. First time I ever prayed. You are a true
miracle."

"I'm no miracle," said Lannon, embarrassed by the
praise. "I just happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"I disagree," said Doomar. "The escape was
indeed miraculous."

"I think we have a good lead on them," said
Lannon, in an effort to change the subject.

"We should," said Doomar, raising his eyebrows.
"I've never seen a human move so fast over these hills, and in the dark no
less. And not a scratch from a branch to show for it. You must be a sorcerer of
some kind."

"Do you believe in sorcery?" asked Lannon.

Doomar nodded. "Only because I met a sorcerer about
twenty years ago. His name was Jace. A giant of a man and very wise. He stopped
by the village where I lived, and performed some tricks for the crowd. Everyone
assumed he was a fake, including me. But then I told him about my haunted home,
and he asked to come have a look. He told me it was indeed haunted and actually
called forth a ghost from the shadows. He told me it was a harmless entity. I
saw it with my own eyes and I felt its chill. My mother saw it too. I knew then
that sorcery was real."

"Interesting tale," said Lannon. "I was
traveling with a sorcerer named Jace before I was captured--very likely the
same Jace you encountered. Not surprising, though, since he seems to have
journeyed all over Gallamerth."

"Are you his apprentice?" asked Doomar.

Lannon shook his head. "I am a sorcerer, of sorts, but
not his apprentice. Jace and I are very different."

"We should keep moving," said Doomar. "We
still have a long way to go to get beyond the Oldermar Hills. Your speed will
come in handy."

"I'm actually rather exhausted," said Lannon.
"I can't maintain that speed while carrying you any longer. You'll have to
proceed on foot."

"At least I'll have my pride back," said Doomar.
"But don't worry, I'm part Malrog and I can move quite fast through the
hills. I'm also in great physical condition, thanks to working in my forge all
day long. I'm a blacksmith, you see. I make some of the finest weapons money
can buy."

"I have no doubt about that," said Lannon.
"You have the build of a blacksmith. In fact, you look strong as a
bull."

"I'm twice as strong as the average Dwarf," said
Doomar, his voice full of pride. "Before I was a blacksmith, I performed
feats of strength for the crowds. I bent steel bars, lifted boulders, and broke
chains. But you're even stronger than I am, apparently. You ripped apart those
stout irons, when I could not. I've never seen anyone break Malrog irons."

"I'm not actually that strong," said Lannon.
"My power makes it appear that way. You're actually far stronger than I
am."

Doomar shrugged. "Strength is strength, regardless of
the source. Muscle or magic makes no difference. My strength is legendary, but
yours is inhuman. You must be an extremely dangerous warrior."

"I do okay in battle," said Lannon.

"Quite an understatement, I'm sure," said Doomar.

They started off again through the hills.

"I will travel with you for a time," said Doomar,
"if you don't mind. We can visit my village, where I can pay you for
rescuing me."

"Payment isn't necessary," said Lannon.

"But you have no weapon," said Doomar. "I
can provide you with a stout blade or hammer, and some armor too if you'd
like."

"First I need to locate my companions," said
Lannon. "Then maybe we'll visit your village if it's along the way. I have
a friend who is in need of a great sword. I would like to see what you have to
offer."

"I have one Glaetherin sword," said Doomar.
"It's not pure Glaetherin, mind you. Not even close. I'm a respected
blacksmith, but I'm not wealthy enough to afford pure Glaetherin. But it is
stronger than steel."

"It's definitely worth a look," said Lannon.
Perhaps at last Vorden would obtain a sword that he couldn't accidentally melt.

"Our escape isn't certain yet, though," said
Doomar. "These hills are infested with Malrogs, and soon all of them will
be searching for us."

Moments after he finished speaking, a great horn sounded
throughout the hills--a warning that prisoners were in flight.

Doomar nodded. "They delayed the horn out of
embarrassment. Now the hunt is truly in progress. Can you feel the rage and
hatred?"

Lannon could. It was as if the entire forest had turned
hostile, a dark feeling infesting the very air itself.

"The Deep Shadow is awake in my people," said
Doomar, "filling them with power and evil. They will never admit it to
themselves, but when the Malrogs grow angry, ancient magic stirs to life."

"So that's how they defend these hills," said Lannon.
"The power of Tharnin makes them fierce and terrible."

"Yes," said Doomar. "As an outcast, I
understand this. But such ideas are forbidden amongst the Malrogs. To speak of
it is a crime."

"The Olrogs are similar," said Lannon. "They
too were once in the grasp of Tharnin and still harbor strange abilities as a
result."

"I am both Olrog and Malrog," said Doomar.
"So what does that make me exactly? What strange abilities do I
possess?"

"I don't know," said Lannon.

"I'm a monster," said Doomar, in a very deep,
chilling voice. "I have been told that all my life."

"That's ridiculous," said Lannon. "You're
just different than most Dwarves. There is nothing wrong with being
different."

"I almost wanted to die on that post," said
Doomar. "Maybe that's why I didn't really struggle. I'm tired of the
fight." He leaned against a tree, looking suddenly defeated. "Perhaps
you should go on without me."

Lannon was puzzled. "What's wrong?"

Doomar looked away. "Just having a moment."

"We need to keep moving," said Lannon.

Doomar hesitated, then started walking again. "Sorry,
Lannon. Sometimes my emotions get the best of me. I've had a very hard
life."

"Not a problem," said Lannon. He could only guess
at the dark thoughts that lurked in Doomar's head. How badly had he been mistreated
in life? Lannon could have studied him with the Eye, but he didn't feel it was
his right to probe the Dwarf's secrets, considering Doomar had done nothing to
earn Lannon's distrust. If Doomar wanted to talk about it, he would.

"I owe you much, Lannon," said Doomar. "I
will not hesitate again until we're safely beyond this forest." He raised
his hammer. "And if we must fight, I will hold nothing back." His
eyes smoldered with dark fire. "Nothing!"