Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (23 page)

The giant shrugged. "Don't like the taxes, put the
beef back. By the way, I would also accept a third of the meat as
payment."

"I need all of it," said Lannon. "And I
can't afford your tax. I'm sorry, but I must move on now. I have a sick friend
in need."

The giant wiped his mouth on his sleeve and rose. He
approached Lannon, gazing down at him, a half-eaten turkey still in hand.
"Are you challenging my authority? A Norack only half my height, daring to
oppose me? I'll snap your neck if you disobey. Now either pay up, or take that
beef right back into the shop. Last warning!" He took a bite of turkey and
then flung the carcass aside.

Lannon shook his head. "Sorry, but I cannot
comply." He could have fled, but it might have brought trouble to Doomar.

The Thallite swung his huge fist at Lannon, but the Dark
Watchman dodged it. The giant then tried to grab him, to no avail.

Gralladus frowned. "You're a quick one. But I'm not
defeated. I will simply demand that everyone pay for your greed." He
raised his hands to his mouth and bellowed, "Come to me, people of
Callaboren! Come forth and pay your taxes--three silver for each household! If
you avoid me, I will come to your homes and extract a grim price!" He
shouted some more dire warnings.

Lannon didn't think the townsfolk would obey, but to his
surprise they gathered in the street, silver in hand. Their heads bowed, they
came forward and laid their coins at the giant's feet.

Gralladus gazed smugly at Lannon. "See how they obey
me? They crawl to my feet at the mere sound of my voice. They would rather go
hungry than refuse to pay me, for they know my power."

"This is pure theft," said Lannon. "Aren't
you ashamed?"

The giant shook his head. "You should have paid your
tax. This is all your fault, little man. You should feel terrible about
this."

"Actually, this evil is your doing," said Lannon.
"You're blindly obeying King Verlamer. Can't you think for yourself?"

Gralladus waved him away. "I serve my king by free
will, for he is wise and generous. Now go enjoy your beef. Savor every bite,
knowing that others cannot eat dinner today because of you. Three silver is a
lot to these people, and you have cheated them out of it."

Anger gripped Lannon. He sat the beef down on a porch.
"I can't let you get away with such thievery. This issue must be
settled."

The giant again waved him away. "I don't want to fight
you. You're not a lawman and have no authority here. I have paperwork to prove
my authority. You have your precious beef, so stop bothering me and go away.
Unless, that is, you're a lawbreaker who doesn't respect legal authority."

Lannon hesitated, unsure of what to do. He had assured
Doomar he would avoid a fight, but something had to be done about this.

"Go on, little man," said the giant. "Run
along and fill your greedy belly." He turned his back to Lannon. He
started humming a merry tune as he gathered up his silver, stuffing his deep
pockets.

Lannon's annoyance grew. At last he seized the giant's arm.
"I demand that you return their silver!"

"No," said the giant, pulling away from him.
"It belongs to King Verlamer now. Let these fools starve. Little folk are
inferior beings anyway, like worthless insects that need to be stomped into
slime."

But Lannon wasn't about to give up. "By the authority
of Dremlock Kingdom, I am taking you prisoner for the crime of theft."

"Dremlock has no authority here," said the giant.
"You are far from Silverland, oh foolish Knight."

"I bring the authority with me," said Lannon.

The giant moved his face close to Lannon. "Go ahead
and strike me, then. Give it your best. Break my nose, if you can--and if it
makes you feel good to do so. So who's the thief here? I think it's you, little
man."

Lannon hesitated. He had never encountered someone like
this. It wasn't his way to attack a foe who refused to fight, but what else
could he do? If he walked away, the townsfolk would go hungry.

The people stood watching from a distance.

"This discussion is over, Gralladus," said
Lannon. "Give them back the silver or I'll take it by force."

The Thallite's eyes widened. "So you
are
a
thief!" He hurled Lannon away from him with such force that only the Eye
saved Lannon from a host of broken bones. The Dark Watchman struck a wagon and
left much of it in pieces. Lannon lay stunned for a moment, then rose.

"Be gone, wretch!" the giant bellowed at him.

Instead, Lannon charged the Thallite and struck him in the
stomach with his fist. The giant doubled over in pain.

"Return the silver," Lannon commanded.

In response, the giant swung a mighty fist at Lannon's
head--a fist that could have smashed through bricks. But Lannon ducked the blow
and punched the giant again, this time delivering a stronger impact.

Winded, the giant gasped for breath. "This is nothing
but a...a brutal assault from a...sorry...rogue..."

Lannon tried to reach into the giant's pockets, but the
Thallite again shoved him away viciously--this time into a thick wooden post.
The post snapped in two. The townsfolk looked horrified, thinking Lannon was
finished.

Sighing, Lannon rose from the ground. He lifted the broken
post and charged the Thallite, swinging it at his head. The giant seized the
post in one hand and ripped it from Lannon's grasp, then swung it back at the
Dark Watchman with such speed and fury that he almost made contact. Lannon
barely dodged the blow.

They circled each other, as the crowd looked on.

"You started this," said the giant. "Now I
shall end it!" He launched a flurry of blows at Lannon, one of which
caught his shoulder. Though the Eye shielded him to some extent, the blow was
so vicious that Lannon's shoulder was damaged by the impact. He found he could
barely move his arm.

The giant raised the club to finish Lannon, but Lannon
kicked him in the shin, causing the Thallite to lower his weapon and hop in
pain for a moment. Lannon struck out with his good arm and again connected with
the giant's stomach. The giant backed off, again gasping for breath.

Lannon rubbed his shoulder. "This is ridiculous. Just
give back the silver."

"You'll have to steal it, thief," the giant
replied.

Lannon moved in on his foe again, and this time he swatted
the club from the giant's hand, sending it flying onto a rooftop. He went for
the Thallite's pocket, but the giant got him in a bear hug and tried to crush
his bones. Only the Eye saved Lannon from being squeezed into oblivion in that
monstrous grasp. Unable to crush Lannon, the giant flung him down the street.
Lannon toppled head over heals before lying still in a dusty heap.

Lannon rose, knowing he needed to act quickly. He was
exhausted and the Eye was running low on energy. Another severe impact might
end his fight.

This was it. He needed to finish this.

Summoning what energy he still had, Lannon charged in and
caught the giant's nose with a solid punch that rocked the Thallite's head
back.

The giant's eyes widened in disbelief as he clutched his
bleeding nose. He slumped down in the street, barely conscious.

"Finish me, Knight of Dremlock," he mumbled.

Lannon nodded. He raised his fist. "The silver, or
another blow!"

"Take it, then," the giant muttered, emptying his
pockets. "Take it all and be gone with you." He shook off the
dizziness and rose on shaky legs. "I will report this to King Verlamer,
and this town will be punished."

The crowd groaned. Some of them glared at Lannon. Some
shook their heads in despair. All of them refused to touch the silver.

Lannon was disgusted with himself. What had he just done?
Now surely the townsfolk would suffer all the more. Even killing the giant
wouldn't help, as that would just provoke King Verlamer's anger to a greater
degree. He realized there had been no path to victory in this situation. His
desire to help Doomar and resume his journey had cost the townsfolk dearly.

"This quest had better succeed," Lannon whispered
to himself. If they could obtain the Green Flamestone, perhaps there was hope
for these people. Meanwhile, they would surely face terrible hardships.

His heart full of weariness, and feeling frustrated with
himself, Lannon lifted the side of beef and trudged off down the road.

***

Over the next couple of days, Lannon cooked beef for Doomar
and nursed him back to health. Doomar's constitution was mighty even by Dwarven
standards, and he was soon up and moving about. Now that Doomar could care for
himself, Lannon knew it was time to move on.

They had just eaten a lunch of beef stew and biscuits and
were seated in the living room, when Lannon informed the Dwarf of his decision.
"I need to find my companions and can afford no further delays."

"Of course," said Doomar. The somber Dwarf bowed
his head, looking glum. "Knightly business. But there will be no
protection from Dremlock here in Callaboren. After your conflict with the
giant, taxes are sure to increase even more, and I can barely afford to stay in
business as it is."

Lannon lowered his gaze. "I should have listened to
you. But you needed that beef, so I didn't want to surrender it." Lannon
had already apologized for his mistake, but the guilt remained.

"I will admit the truth," said Doomar, looking
sheepish. "I could have healed without the beef. I'm sure it helped
strengthen me, but actually, I was just craving it. I regret ever sending you
into town. My desire for meat has caused much trouble. If my business closes,
how will I eat? I'm deeply worried, Lannon, and not just for myself. I fear for
the wonderful, peaceful Aramats."

"I want Callaboren to be free," said Lannon.
"But right now Bellis Kingdom is too powerful to oppose. I need to complete
my mission."

The strange Dwarf leaned back in his chair, looking
defeated. His black eyes appeared haunted and full of regrets. Lannon could
only guess at what was gnawing at his soul. Again, he wondered how much abuse
Doomar had suffered over the years. Yet he was still an honorable man, and that
spoke highly of his strength of will and good character. Doomar had the
potential to be a Divine Knight, but of course Dremlock seldom recruited
adults.

Yet Lannon was the High Watchman of Ollanhar. Surely he was
allowed to recruit any Squire who seemed worthy. He had recruited Dallsa--who
had been nearly a grown woman at the time--and no one had interfered. Doomar
was immensely strong, if nothing else, and clearly a skilled blacksmith.

"You could work for me," said Lannon. "For
my kingdom. I need a competent blacksmith at Ollanhar. I have a forge below my
tower, but no one occupies it. It could be yours to command."

"But I'm not a Knight," said Doomar.

"I can recruit you as a Squire," said Lannon.
"Eventually you could obtain Knighthood, or you could simply remain our
blacksmith. Either way, the pay would be good and you would stay busy."

"But this is my home," said Doomar, looking
around. "What would become of it? Who would look after it? My mother died
here, and I was always very loyal to her." He pointed to a painting of a
stocky Malrog woman on the wall. "She wouldn't want me to leave. She
didn't even like it when I left the house. She..." He shook his head.
"I know I sound ridiculous."

"Not at all," said Lannon, feeling pity for the
Dwarf.

Doomar sighed. "I would feel guilty for moving out.
Mother always feared for me, that others would hurt me. I want to go, Lannon.
I'm very lonely here. People only come for weapons or repairs, but much of the
time I'm alone. What you offer sounds wonderful. Yet...how could I do that to
Mother?"

"But she's dead," said Lannon. "And you're
an adult now. You have your own life to lead. You should do what makes you
happy."

"I can't betray Mother!" said Doomar, his eyes
wide. His knuckles were white as he gripped the arms of his chair. He sat in
silence for several moments, as if thinking it over. Then he said, "I'm
sorry, Lannon."

Lannon rose and patted him on the shoulder. "I
understand. Do what you must. If you change your mind, make the journey to
Silverland and go to Ollanhar Tower. Tell them I have offered you a position as
a Squire, and they will take you in. Otherwise, I wish you luck."

Lannon started toward the door.

"Wait," said Doomar. "Wait just a moment,
please."

Lannon turned. The huge Dwarf looked terrified. It was
shocking to see so much fear in the eyes of such a powerful man.

Doomar seemed to be waging some internal struggle. He rose
and approached the picture of his mother. He stood before it.

"Mother, I have to go," he said. "I...I want
to make new friends and see new places. I can't just be here like you always
wanted." Tears in his eyes, he bowed his head. "I won't let them hurt
me out there. Not long ago I killed a man who tried to hurt me. Well, two men
actually. I'm not proud of it, but it shows that I can look after myself. I
hope you understand, Mother."

Doomar turned toward Lannon. "I want to be a
Squire."

Lannon nodded. "Yet serving Ollanhar can be very
dangerous, especially if you go where I'm going. We have many enemies seeking
our destruction. I'll give you a bit more time if you want to think it
over."

Doomar shook his head. "No more waiting, Lannon. I'm
ready. I will go wherever you're going, to whatever fate. The time is
right."

"Then prepare yourself for travel," said Lannon.

"Am I a Squire now?" asked Doomar, his black eyes
shining.

Lannon nodded. "You are officially a Squire of
Dremlock, as far as I'm concerned. And you are Ollanhar's official
blacksmith."

"I will gather some supplies," said Doomar.
"And I'll get you that sword you wanted from my forge." He walked
past the picture of his mother, hesitated, and then walked on. His eyes
smoldered with determination.