Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (2 page)

Lothrin was conscious, but dazed.

An instant later, a tall figure bearing a musty, foul
stench stepped forward to confront Lannon. The Ghoul wore a silver crown, and
greed shone in his black eyes. His hair and skin were bone-white, and his
presence chilled the air. He wore a bizarre, royal robe of Birlote silk that
looked like intricately spun webs. In one hand he held Taith's silver dagger.
His other hand was knotted into a bony fist. The Eye of Divinity revealed that
this was a notorious miser and thief, centuries old, with flesh as cold as the
coins and gems that he hid away beneath earth and stone.

The Ghoul's gaze was fixed on Lannon's sword--not with
fear, but with a longing to possess the rare and expensive weapon.

With a trembling hand, the Ghoul reached for the sword. In
response, Lannon cut his arm off at the elbow. With a hiss, the Ghoul backed
away.

The arm lay twitching, still infested with evil sorcery.

The Ghoul tucked the dagger away and seized a small boulder
in his remaining hand. He raised it as if to hurl it at Lothrin, and Lannon
stepped in front of his friend. Lannon raised his sword to behead the monster.

 
But the Ghoul
backed away a bit more, still holding the rock, until the fog partially closed
around him and he was just barely visible. The ancient, cunning creature wanted
no part of Lannon.

The Ghoul dropped the rock and fled.

Lannon prepared to hurl his sword, just as the Ghoul
vanished into the mist. Then he decided against it--always afraid of losing the
unique weapon.

He helped Lothrin up. The Ranger stood swaying, still
looking dazed. He rubbed his shoulder and winced.

"It still has Taith's dagger," said Lothrin.
"A dagger crafted for Birlote royalty. We must hunt it down and finish
this."

Lannon shook his head. "I'm tired, Lothrin. And I just
want to leave these mountains. Besides, I suspect we will find items in that
cave that will more than make up for the loss of the dagger."

Lothrin's eyes lit up. "A treasure hoard?"

***

The floor of the reeking cave was littered with human and
animal bones. Vegetables and pieces of meat, in various stages of rot, were
piled here and there--food that the Ghoul was in no hurry to eat. It stank so
bad in there the two warriors could barely breathe. Scattered about was torn,
bloody clothing.

"What has this monster done?" said Lothrin,
shaking his head. He kicked at a bloodstained tunic. "It needs to be
destroyed."

"Look closer," said Lannon. The Eye revealed that
the victims had been killed by humans--probably bandits. "The Ghoul is
mostly a scavenger. But a very greedy one. If we take any treasure from here,
the monster may come for it."

"And I will be waiting with my dagger," said
Lothrin.

At the back of the cave was a huge pile of rocks, dirt,
clay, sticks, roots, pieces of wagons, broken barrels, and logs. This pile
reached the ceiling.

Lannon sent his gaze beyond the barrier--and glimpsed
treasure. But Lothrin had already begun tearing apart the heap.

"Can you believe this?" said Lothrin, pausing to
wipe sweat from his brow. "The Ghoul must surely visit its treasure
often--probably several times a day. And each time, afterwards, it must pile up
all this stuff again to hide it. Apparently, it is very passionate about its
hobby."

"This is madness," said Lannon, tossing a
battered wagon wheel aside. "Greed that is beyond my comprehension."

"Imagine spending your existence," said Lothrin,
"building a heap of refuse and then tearing it down again--over and
over--for fear that some intruder must glimpse your hoard. Could human greed
ever reach such a level?"

Lannon nodded. "It seems human greed can go far beyond
that. Look at what King Verlamer has done--waging war on the entire continent,
enslaving one kingdom after another. Those who serve greed are often
tireless."

"You must think the Birlotes are greedy, then,"
said Lothrin. His face was streaked with sweat and dirt. "Our empire is
large. My family is very wealthy, with vast treasure troves."

"Did they steal that treasure from others?" asked
Lannon.

"Of course not," said Lothrin, looking slightly
offended. "That's not our way. We created our own wealth through hard
work."

"Then that's different," said Lannon. "I
wouldn't mind being wealthy, as long as I earned it."

"You
are
wealthy," said Lothrin. "At
least compared to most."

Lannon considered Lothrin's words, and saw the truth in them.
"I guess you're right. For some reason I don't feel wealthy."

Lothrin chuckled. "Because we're still digging in the
dirt. As Divine Knights, we're still sacrificing all of our time to help
others."

"That must be it," said Lannon.

With a groan, he pulled a partially buried log free.
"Anyway, this sort of greed is beyond belief. This heap is gigantic!"

"It's monstrous," Lothrin agreed, ripping a
tangle of black roots free that looked like a giant spider. "I don't even
know what to say."

"It makes my flesh crawl," said Lannon. "To
tear all this apart---and then build it back up. Every single day. Over and
over, for who knows how many years or decades...or even centuries." He
shuddered.

At last they cleared the heap, and found a pile of gold and
silver coins beyond. Mixed into that pile were precious gems (mostly rubies),
along with jewelry, objects such as platters and goblets made of expensive
metals, fancy decorative objects like statues and vases, and exquisite weapons
and armor. A pair of Birlote torches--silver rods with glowing gems atop
them--lit up the treasure, causing everything to gleam and sparkle
hypnotically.

It was an impressive hoard and a great find for Ollanhar,
and for a few moments Lannon and Lothrin simply gazed at it in wonder.

Since joining Dremlock Kingdom, Lannon had seen a lot of
treasure. But there was something truly magical about this find--to see all
this sparkling loot in a single heap lying at the back of a dirty cave. Lannon
normally cared little for wealth, but he was filled with the urge to start
stuffing his pockets.

"One problem," said Lothrin. "How are we
going to carry this?"

Lannon shrugged. He examined
the weapons and armor with the Eye and found a helm made of Glaetherin. It
looked almost aquatic, with two rows of what resembled fish gills and a single
curved horn jutting out from the forehead. The horn was infused with energy,
granting the wearer endurance. It had been crafted by the Grey Dwarves for the
Norack ruler of a coastal kingdom, centuries ago, and had ended up belonging to
a famous pirate for two decades who had terrorized the coast. The name,
referencing a fierce sea god, was inscribed on it in small runes:

HEAD OF GRANACK

LORD OF THE WATERS

"You want this helm?" asked Lannon, kicking it
toward Lothrin. He explained what the Eye had shown him.

Lothrin knelt and touched the helm, his eyes wide.
"Items of sorcery are extremely rare, Lannon. This helm has to be worth a
fortune--maybe even more than your sword. Surely you should keep it."

"I don't like armor," said Lannon. "I move
faster without it. Go ahead and see if it fits. If it doesn't, we can give it
to some other Knight."

Lothrin tried it on, but found it a bit too large for his
head. "Doesn't feel right," he said. "Its power is lost on
me." He sighed, then removed it.

"Maybe Daledus would want it," said Lannon. He
thought it over and then said, "Actually, his head is probably too wide
for it."

Lothrin looked skeptical. "I'm not sure you have the
authority to just give it away like that. We're talking about a legendary helm
crafted for a king. Surely the High Council will decide what becomes of
it."

"I'm not too concerned with that," said Lannon,
examining a large jeweled goblet inscribed with Birlote runes. "We're not
at Dremlock or Ollanhar, and a good piece of armor shouldn't go to waste."

"This isn't just a good piece of armor," said
Lothrin. "You saw it yourself. This helm can make you a greater warrior. I
can't even imagine how long it took to craft this item--all the effort that
must have gone into it."

"It's a great helm, obviously," said Lannon.
"But we're not talking about the Hand of Tharnin here. It won't make you
invincible."

"True," said Lothrin, "but it also does not
corrupt like that gauntlet does. It can be used endlessly with no consequences.
Or am I wrong?"

Lannon examined it again. "I can't see any drawbacks.
But it doesn't mean there couldn't be some hidden ones. I believe any item of
sorcery can be dangerous if misused. I'm bonded to my sword to the point where
I occasionally start to become obsessed with it and worry that I'll lose it.
And my sword only contains a mild amount of sorcery held within the Dragon
bones."

Lothrin touched the gleaming horn and the gills. "This
helm may mean nothing to you, Lannon, but this could easily be the heart of a
kingdom. An item like this could spawn decades of war--and probably has."

"If you say so," said Lannon, not convinced.
"To me it's a lump of metal that sits on the head and gives you a
boost."

Lothrin gazed at him in amusement. "You're a strange
fellow, Lannon. As a Ranger, I too have shunned wealth and royalty in favor of
a simple life. But even I can recognize the true value of this helm."

"It would hold more value for you," said Lannon,
"if it actually fit your head. I think I'll see if Bekka wants it. Might
fit her."

Lothrin frowned. "Bekka shouldn't have it. Although
she is a member of the Council, there is nothing extraordinary about her. If
you don't want it, it should go to Aldreya or Prince Vannas."

"Because they're Birlotes?" said Lannon.

"Because of their royal blood," Lothrin answered.

Feeling irritated, Lannon swiped up the helm. "It's
going to Bekka, whether it fits her or not. She's just as good as anyone
else."

"Of course," said Lothrin, his face reddening.
"I didn't mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" asked Lannon. The
attitude of superiority that many of the Birlotes seemed to share sometimes
annoyed him.

For a moment, Lothrin was at a loss for words. "I
don't know. But you're right. There is no reason Bekka shouldn't have it. She
suffered horribly from that Ghoul's attack, and has fought valiantly to
recover. She is worthy."

The two stood in silence for a time.

Lannon gazed at the glittering heap. "There is no way
the two of us can carry all this. I'll wait here and guard the treasure. We'll
need a wagon."

***

Once the treasure was moved to the camp, the Divine Knights
held a meeting. Lannon sat with the Glaetherin helm beside him, waiting for a
moment to propose that it be given to Bekka. Bekka was sitting up, looking
stronger--though she wasn't wearing her armor and still seemed exhausted. Her
eyes held a determined, yet haunted look, her fingers digging at the earth as
she fought to hold herself upright. Her dark skin dripped sweat from pain and
exertion, her formidable muscles knotted with the mere effort of sitting up.
She had insisted on attending the meeting, and Lannon found himself admiring
her courage.

Young Taith sat beside Lannon, running his fingers over the
helm. His clothes and face were dirty, and a dead leaf was stuck in his tangled
brown hair. "Why can't I have it, Lannon?" the boy whispered.

"I already told you," Lannon whispered back, as
he plucked the leaf from Taith's hair. "It's too big for you."

"I'll grow," Taith pointed out.

Lannon gazed at him sternly. "It will go to a Knight
who can make good use of it. Now stop asking for it."

"But my dagger is gone," said Taith, sighing.
"I don't have anything now. And that helm is amazing. Please, can I have
it?"

 
Lannon shook his
head. "You'll get weapons and armor at Dremlock. Now be quiet, for our
leader is about to speak."

Taith bowed his head, looking gloomy.

"The Hawk has returned," said Aldreya,
"bearing commands from the High Council." The Green Knight of
Ollanhar was standing on a log, her curly silver hair blowing in the breeze to
reveal her pointed ears. She wore a green cloak of Birlote silk that signified
her rank. Her face was strikingly beautiful and youthful in the sunlight that
broke through the clouds, but her expression was grim.

"Let me guess," said Jace, scowling. He was
seated on a rock, long arms folded across his chest. "The mission is over.
We've been ordered to go home and indulge in some rice pudding." The
towering, purple-cloaked sorcerer spoke with heavy sarcasm. He had run out of pipe
tobacco recently and his mood had soured as a result. This was the first time
he had spoken all day.

"Not exactly," said Aldreya. "We are
commanded to resume the quest for the Green Flamestone immediately. There is a
town called Red Barrel beyond the mountains. We will journey there, and leave
Taith with the innkeeper. Later, a group of Knights will come for the
boy."

Taith's eyes widened. He clutched Lannon's arm. "I
don't want to be left with some strange innkeeper. Do I have to go there?"

"Sorry, Taith," said Lannon, "but yes, you
have to go. You'll be fine there. The Knights will take you to Dremlock to
begin your training." It was hard for Lannon to believe that this fearful,
uncertain lad had the potential to become a Dark Watchman. Yet the truth was
that Lannon himself had been a fearful, uncertain lad not too long ago. Lannon
had changed rapidly after becoming a Squire, and he saw no reason why it would
be any different for Taith. Soon the boy would learn how to fight and kill--and
more significantly, how to unlock the extremely dangerous Eye of Divinity. The
boy's childish innocence that made Lannon feel so fatherly and protective was
fleeting, soon to be replaced by the grim soul of a warrior.