Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (30 page)

"But he's also a bigger target," said Jerret.
"And one with no armor."

"I have my shield," said Shenosi. "Nothing
gets past it."

Jerret looked amused. "If you say so, big
fellow."

"I have a sword for you, Vorden," said Prince
Vannas. He tossed Vorden Lannon's Dragon sword. "You won't melt that. And
I don't need a sword anyway for this battle." He still wore his jeweled
dagger.

Vorden nodded. "Greatly appreciated."

Huenov hadn't yet joined them. He was seated on a crate,
the brim of his purple hat pulled down over his eyes. He seemed to be enjoying
the ride.

"Better get that bow ready," said Lothrin.
"Didn't you hear Aldreya?"

Huenov pushed his hat back and sat up straight. "But I
was having a nap. You mean it's time to fight already?"

"Nearly," said Lothrin, looking grim.

Huenov rose, standing atop the crate. With a confident
smile, he un-slung his silver bow and readied it. "Time to administer some
stings." He glanced up. "Why is the crow's nest empty? We should have
an archer up there."

No one replied.

The three warships loomed before them.

"I believe they're still out of range," said
Aldreya.

"No, the great catapult is launching!" Lothrin
warned.

Even as he finished speaking, the massive arm shot forward
and hurled several heavy spheres into the afternoon sky.

"To late!" Jace yelled, his eyes wide.
"We're finished!"

***

 
The catapult's
first launch was perfect. The steel orbs--two of which weighed more than
five-hundred pounds--descended straight toward
The Golden Promise's
deck. The Knights, mercenaries, and crewmen scrambled to get out of the way,
some running and some leaping.

The three lighter orbs cracked the deck but bounced off.
One of them struck a crewman in the chest, killing him on impact--shattering
his bones and hurling him into the lake. But the two heaviest orbs smashed
through the reinforced planks and vanished below, leaving gaping holes in the
boards. The entire ship shook from the impact, knocking people off their feet.

Aldreya rose and yanked Prince Vannas to his feet.
"Destroy that catapult," she commanded, "before it can launch
again."

"It's still too far away," the prince replied.
"We need to get closer."

Theradaxa motioned to a crewmember. "Check the damage.
Let me know if we're taking on water."

Looking frightened, he bowed and went below. A moment
later, his voice arose from one of the holes in the deck. "There's plenty
of damage, but no sign of water. They didn't break through."

"Row faster!" Theradaxa ordered the crew.

The catapult fired again, but this time their foes had
taken less time to calibrate it and the steel orbs did no significant damage.
One of them tore part of a rail off the deck, and another bounced off the
boards and landed in the lake, while the remaining ones missed completely. The
one that bounced, however, jarred people off their feet and caused panic.
Prince Vannas again fell to the deck.

Again Aldreya pulled him up. "You must try! We have no
other weapons that can reach it."

Everyone else had taken cover, leaving only Aldreya,
Vannas, and Theradaxa standing in the open.

Sighing, the prince raised the White Flamestone.

Then a dark shape descended from the sky. Still recovering
from the shocking impacts, Prince Vannas was unprepared for the Goblin Vulture
that swooped down and seized the White Flamestone in its claws. The Vulture
flew off toward the warships, followed by two more Vultures.

"Shoot that beast!" Prince Vannas cried, his eyes
wild with desperation.

Aldreya hurled a fireball that fell short.

Lothrin and Saranna shot at it and missed, but Huenov's
arrow drove deep into the Vulture's body for an instant kill. The Goblin
dropped like a stone into the water, where it lay in a feathered heap rocking
on the waves.

Prince Vannas gazed at it in horror. "The White
Flamestone will sink forever! We'll never find it beneath the lake!"

Without hesitation, Jace dove into the water. He swam
toward the fallen Vulture with powerful strokes from his long arms. But he soon
came within bow range of the two smaller ships that were still advancing as the
big one held back. Jace was forced to halt as arrows struck the water near him.

Lothrin prepared to dive in as well, but Aldreya ordered
him to halt. "We need all of our archers," she explained, "to
give Jace cover."

The Golden Promise
surged toward the two advancing
warships. Meanwhile, the remaining Vultures dove toward the dead one in an
effort to retrieve the White Flamestone. Lothrin and Huenov shot the beasts
from the sky.

Jace dared to swim forward and took an arrow to the
shoulder. Crying out in pain, he quickly retreated again. The two ships of
Bellis halted, and the Paladin ship did the same. They were now well within bow
range of each other, with Jace caught in the middle and still trying to get to
the White Flamestone.

With anchors dropped, arrows flew back and forth between
the ships. Huenov climbed to the lookout and put his bow to good use from
there, keeping the smaller catapults on the two ships from launching. He shot
dead anyone who tried to get close to the siege weapons. Bellis' soldiers
returned fire, desperate to take out this lethal marksman, but Huenov was well
defended in the wooden bucket high in the air. Soon the crow's nest was
bristling with enemy arrows.

Facing two warships filled with many archers, Aldreya's
warriors were soon pinned down and struggling to return fire, while Jace had to
withdraw completely from the vicinity of the White Flamestone or he would have
been riddled with arrows. He swam just out of range, looking pain-wracked and
frustrated.

Then the great catapult launched again, and this time one
of the heavy missiles entered a hole in the deck and hurtled below with
dreadful force. Moments later one of the crewmen shouted that they were taking
on water.

***

Lannon and Doomar departed from the pirate ship in a small
rowboat that they lowered by rope into the lake.

Lannon rowed as fast as he dared, and the boat shot across
the waves. It was tiring and took great focus to maintain the swift pace, but
he was desperate to reach the battle and assist his friends. He was pulling the
oars with such force he feared the pressure would snap them in two. One
pleasing aspect, however, was that the boat's oar design allowed for easy
rowing while facing forward, so Lannon could see what lay ahead of him without
sacrificing speed.

"You're rowing like a madman," Doomar pointed
out.

"Good," said Lannon. "That was my
goal."

Doomar studied Lannon thoughtfully. "It looks almost
comical. This insane rowing and the boat moving so swiftly. You're like some
Dwarven machine instead of a man. This is totally inhuman."

"Just trying to get us there," said Lannon.

Doomar opened his pack and peered in it for a moment. Then
he took out the painting of his mother that had hung over his fireplace.
"Yes, I brought her with me. I couldn't bear to leave her behind." He
gazed at the painting for several moments, and a smile formed on his lips.

"Mother would have wanted to come," the Dwarf
added, nodding to Lannon. "To watch over me and protect me. So here she
is."

Doomar again gazed at the painting. "Mother, I want
you to know that all is well. There are some rough times ahead, but I can face
them."

The Dwarf looked up. "I still talk to her a lot."

"I understand," said Lannon, who was struggling
to respond and still keep his focus. "But don't let her influence you too
much." He realized that last statement sounded rude, and he regretted it.

"I didn't catch that last bit," said Doomar,
leaning closer.

Lannon cleared his throat. "Nothing important."

Doomar's eyes widened. He pointed behind the boat.
"Did you see that?" Trembling, he hurriedly put away the picture.

"You're pointing behind me," said Lannon.
"How could I see it?"

"Well, the Eye and all," said Doomar.
"Anyway, I saw a large aquatic creature surface for a moment. It was
matching our speed."

Lannon didn't slow. He had no time for beasts.

"There it is again!" said Doomar, pointing.
"Getting closer! Stop the boat, Lannon, or it might ram us!"

Lannon stopped rowing. He turned, but saw nothing except
the waves.

"It went under again," Doomar explained.

Lannon wondered if Doomar was losing his wits. "You
actually saw something? It wasn't your imagination?"

"Without a doubt," said Doomar. "And no, it
wasn't merely some big fish. It was a lake serpent, probably ancient by the
look of it."

"But is it wise to stop?" said Lannon.
"Maybe we could outrun it. It seems like we're making ourselves an easy
target."

"My instincts say we should halt," Doomar replied
in a whisper. "Just sit still and let the boat drift. Perhaps it will go
away."

The two sat in silence as the boat rocked on the waves.

Then the beast rose up beside them--a towering serpent with
scales that were varying shades of purple and wing-like gills on its head that
were transparent in the rays of the afternoon sun. A wide black beak, almost
three feet long, was pointed in their direction like a spear. Water poured in
rivers from its ancient scales that were crusted with snails and draped with
tufts of slimy green algae. The creature smelled as ancient as it looked. It
studied Lannon and Doomar with white eyes. Behind it, three humps surfaced,
showing the beast's impressive length of more than seventy feet. It was as
thick as a large tree trunk. Lannon sensed the immense power within it that all
Dragons possessed.

"Don't move a muscle," Doomar whispered.

Lannon nodded, overcome with awe.

"I said
don't move
," Doomar whispered.

As they watched, the Water Dragon slipped below the surface
so smoothly it barely left a ripple. They waited in tense silence, bracing for
impact, but it never came. Moments later the beast surfaced further away, and
was no longer gazing at them. It seemed to have lost interest.

Lannon breathed a sigh of relief. "That monster could
have shattered our boat into bits. It seems we were quite lucky."

Doomar wiped sweat from his brow. "Yes, that was too
close."

They waited until the beast was out of sight, and then
Lannon started rowing again. The Water Dragon had been amazing and wondrous,
but he had no time to dwell on it. The battle was still in progress.

Doomar took out his favorite painting again. "Mother,
if I don't survive this, please don't blame Lannon. He only tried to offer me a
new life."

Lannon gave a quiet sigh. Doomar's one-sided conversations
with his dead mother were distracting and somewhat unnerving. But Lannon dared
not say anything for fear of triggering one of the Dwarf's dark moods.

Doomar kissed the painting. "I love you, Mother."

Lannon looked away, slightly embarrassed for having
observed this intimate moment, and mumbled, "Glad she is with you."

Doomar frowned. "I know she isn't actually here, of
course. She is quite dead. I wrapped her cold body in cloth and buried her
myself."

"I meant in spirit," said Lannon. "Or
whatever you might call it. Something like that." He cleared his throat,
his mind blanking. "The painting at least makes her, you know, be
here
with you. Kind of." He forced a smile, while inwardly chastising himself
for such an awkward response.

"Is her spirit really here?" asked Doomar, his
face lighting up with hope. "Can you see her with the Eye of
Divinity?"

"No, I didn't mean that," said Lannon, wishing he
would have kept quiet. "I haven't actually glimpsed her."

"But could you?" asked Doomar. "If she were
here, I mean?"

"Possibly," said Lannon. "I've seen the dead
before."

Doomar's black eyes held a pleading look. "Then will
you try?"

A shiver ran over Lannon's flesh. He had no desire to use
the Eye for such a purpose. "Her spirit is probably at peace, my friend.
I'm sure she is watching over you, though. Take comfort in that."

"I shall," said Doomar, nodding. "And in my
painting."

"Glad to hear it," said Lannon. Actually, he
wasn't sure Doomar's obsession with his deceased mother was healthy. The
oversized Dwarf was obviously struggling badly to let her go--or something.
Lannon didn't know for sure. Doomar was too strange for him to understand. But
Lannon thought this quest was possibly just what Doomar needed to finally break
his mother's hold. This could be his long-overdue path to independence.

They fell silent and it seemed the conversation was over.

But then Doomar asked, "Do you miss your mother?"

"Yes," said Lannon. "And my father
too." It had been a long time since he had visited them, though he
received their letters quite often.

Doomar closed his eyes and leaned back, clutching the
paining to his chest. He fell asleep looking peaceful and soon began to snore.
The snoring was so loud it seemed to vibrate painfully in Lannon's ears.

Lannon rowed a bit faster.

A feeling of dread gripped him, making him wonder if he
would arrive too late and find his friends had sunk to a watery grave.

Chapter
17:

The Clash Upon the Waves, Part 2

As Lannon and Doomar drew closer to the battle, one of the
smaller warships turned and began moving in their direction. Not only had
Bellis' warriors spotted Lannon's rowboat, but they somehow knew it was him
onboard. Lannon had not anticipated this move, but it didn't trouble him
much--for it left his friends with one less warship to face. He let Doomar
sleep even as the enemy vessel loomed closer. There was no point in waking the
Dwarf just yet.

As the warship sped toward Lannon, the full size of it was
revealed. It was like a giant bearing down on a mouse. Its catapult was loaded
and ready to fire, and if that wasn't enough, more than a dozen archers stood
on the bow, arrows readied. They were taking no chances with the Dark Watchman.

Lannon finally shook Doomar awake. "Don't be alarmed,
but we're soon to be attacked."

Doomar stretched and yawned. "I thought you were going
to swim, Lannon, and leave me out of danger." He rubbed his neck and
sighed, then turned and let out a gasp. "They're coming for us!"

"Calm yourself," said Lannon. "All I have to
do is get close enough to board. Then I can fight them with my blade."

"How?" asked Doomar. "They will blast us
into bits!"

"I have a plan," said Lannon. "When we get
close enough, I'm going swim to the warship. After I deal with the archers and
catapult, I'll toss you a rope. You can climb up and help me secure the
ship."

"Can't you just levitate me?" asked Doomar.

"Maybe," said Lannon. He didn't like that idea,
for the Dwarf looked heavy. Surely the effort would exhaust him. "But I
don't like to waste energy. Let's plan to try a rope, unless absolutely
necessary."

"I can't climb very well," said Doomar.

Lannon reminded himself that Doomar had yet to receive any
training as a Squire. The Dwarf was immensely strong, but not a skilled warrior
with combat experience. "Never mind. I need all of my energy for myself.
Just stay in the rowboat and I'll deal with our foes on my own."

Doomar glanced at the approaching ship, looking fearful.
His knuckles were white as he gripped the sides of the boat. "It's getting
awfully close, Lannon. We might soon be in range of their catapult."

Lannon traded places with Doomar. He touched the water.
"Not terribly cold. But not as warm as I'd like, either." A few weeks
earlier, the water might have been comfortably warm, but with the fall chill
settling in each night, taking a swim would not be a pleasant experience. The
Eye, of course, could help shield Lannon from the cold if needed, but he hated
to waste precious energy.

Doomar grabbed the oars. "Should I row?"

Lannon shook his head. "Not yet. Just let yourself
drift until I summon you--but not too far away. Stay just out of range."

"How can I judge their range?" asked Doomar.
"I don't possess the Eye of Divinity, Lannon. And I don't know much about
ranged combat."

"Use your Dwarven instincts," said Lannon.

Doomar frowned. "But they're not very reliable."

Lannon shrugged. "I don't know what else to say. Just
don't get yourself killed. Your mother would haunt me forever."

"You're actually going to do this," said Doomar,
in amazement. "You're going to swim right at a warship of Bellis."

"Why not?" said Lannon. "I need to get close
so I can fight."

"But it's insane," said Doomar. "No warrior
does that kind of thing. Swimming straight toward an elite warship full of
soldiers?"

"It's dangerous, obviously," said Lannon.
"But necessary."

"At least they won't be expecting it," said
Doomar. "Who would ever expect such a bold move? I suppose that will work
to your advantage."

The Dwarf extended his hand. "Good luck, my friend.
You have been excellent company. I hope you survive this."

They clasped hands briefly.

"Thank you," said Lannon. "Wait for my
signal before proceeding. If my signal never comes, retreat--because I'll be
dead or captured. Row as fast as you can and don't look back. Maybe they won't
pursue you."

Doomar sighed. "Your words are not comforting."

Having no comforting words to give, Lannon simply dove into
the water and swam. "I'm freezing!" he complained.

"Watch for their arrows," Doomar called out.
"There will be a lot of them."

Lannon didn't waste energy responding.

***

The soldiers shot at Lannon the moment he came within
range. He was forced to slow his pace so he could deflect arrows. Defending
himself while swimming toward the warship was no easy task, but fortunately the
ship--
The Kraken's Beak
--kept moving toward him, shortening the
distance. The soldiers emptied their quivers, their bearded faces grim with
focus, but many of their arrows harmlessly struck the water around Lannon as he
maneuvered across the waves.

The soldiers let out cries of disbelief. These were
well-trained, hardened men used to dominating their foes. They had helped King
Verlamer conquer one kingdom after the next and had grown arrogant in the
process. But Lannon had cut through their ranged attacks without receiving a
scratch. They were left dazed as a result, their faces pale and their eyes
wide. Lannon could sense their thoughts:
 
How could any mortal man swim right at them so fearlessly without
being pierced by a dozen shafts?
They couldn't comprehend it. It was beyond
bizarre to see a lone swimmer attacking a powerful warship. One of the warriors
confirmed their thoughts by crying out, "This is madness!" so loud
that surely Doomar could hear it.

 
Lannon worked his
way close to the vessel and seized the hull, plunging his hand right into the
reinforced wood. The warship slowed. Lannon hunkered down, only his head and
arm visible above the water, and he hung there for a moment, resting. The crew
seemed to have lost sight of him, as no arrows flew his way. There were shouts
and pounding noises as they scurried about on deck. He could sense their
growing panic. They felt like they were facing some demon or monster and were
desperate to think of a way to stop his advance. They didn't merely fear death
or defeat--they also feared the humiliation of being conquered by a single foe.

Lannon examined the hull, wondering if he could rupture it
enough to sink the vessel. He decided he could, but the warship was designed to
withstand a lot of damage and it would take a long time to bring it down--too
long for Lannon's liking. He decided he would have to engage in battle.

Before they could target him again, Lannon levitated up to
the deck of
The Kraken's Beak.
By the time his boots touched the wooden
planks, he was weary and in need of another rest. He questioned his decision to
levitate, for it had cost him a lot of precious energy. Yet there was no time
to worry about that. More arrows flew his way, which he deflected, and then the
soldiers drew blades and charged him.

Lannon didn't want to kill anyone, but fighting with his
fists against fully trained soldiers was not a wise move. This was serious
business. The quest for the Green Flamestone was at stake--and all of
Gallamerth with it. Although not official, Dremlock was at war with Bellis.
Lannon dared take no chances in this fight. He drew his Glaetherin sword, and
his power flooded the blade.

Lannon cut down the first soldier to reach him, then became
a blur moving across the deck. More of his foes went down beneath the wrath of
his sword. He seized some of them and flung them into the lake.

The others hesitated, stunned by what they had witnessed.
Then they joined together in desperation and rushed him as a crowd, seeking to
overwhelm him. However, packing together so tightly was a dire mistake on their
part. Lannon sheathed his sword and wrapped himself in the power of the Eye.
Then he struck the group like a battering ram, blasting it apart like a pile of
dry leaves and sending warriors hurtling into each other with terrible force
and into the water below--a devastating strike that took the fight out of a
dozen men in an instant. Some lay on the deck with broken bones and head
wounds, while others cried out in the water below. Some begged for help.

Lannon had no idea how many, if any, he had slain. He
didn't pause to check and didn't want to know. For all his abilities, Lannon
was not immortal and one wrong move could doom him. His focus was on clearing
out the ship and saving his friends. This was a war against the darkest evil,
and death and suffering could not be avoided. As much as Lannon hated violence,
he was bound to it for the sake of humanity--for the sake of all that was good
and pure. But he had strong regrets. He wanted to save everyone, but he had no
time. By attacking him, these men were choosing their fate and creating their
own doom, and Lannon couldn't help them. Had they chosen to surrender, Lannon
would have allowed it--but they didn't. They continued to make war on him, and
he continued to fight back.

With all of his foes defeated--either lying on the deck or
in the water--Lannon took time to disable the catapult. He tore some of the
machinery apart, doing damage that would take hours or days to repair.

"Help me, please!" one of the fallen soldiers
begged Lannon. He gasped for breath and then said, "I'm in
terrible...pain! Put me out of...my...misery!" The man was writhing about
from some serious internal damage. Lannon scanned him with the Eye and saw that
he had a chance to survive.

"I'm not a healer," said Lannon. "I cannot
help."

"Kill me, then!" the man pleaded. "I'm dead
anyway."

"I can't do that," said Lannon. "It is
forbidden by Knightly law."

"Curse your Knightly law!" the man cried.
"And curse you...with it!" He went into a spasm but remained
conscious.

Lannon walked to the rail and waved to Doomar. He could see
men swimming about below, and others that weren't moving. How many had he
killed? This thought made him remember that he had once slain his own teacher,
Garrin Daggerblood--a man corrupted by the Deep Shadow. He had also killed one
of his close friends--Timlin Woodmaster, who had also been corrupted by evil.
Those memories were like a stab of pain to his heart.

 
He couldn't fathom
how anyone could enjoy war. Jerret Dragonsbane delighted in it, always waiting
for the next battle as if death and pain meant nothing to him. Every death
brought suffering to someone's family, yet Jerret seemed utterly dismissive of
that fact, caring only about proving himself. The barbarian mindset continued
to elude Lannon, and he was grateful for that fact. He didn't want to be like
Jerret. He wanted to care about everyone, even his foes.

Lannon tossed some wooden objects down to the
soldiers--crates, boards, and barrels. The soldiers clung to them, bobbing upon
the waves. Yet the dead floated with them--a reminder that even Lannon could
not avoid killing now and then. And he thought perhaps it was foolish to try.
By saving his enemies, wasn't he simply giving them a chance to recover and
continue their evil cause? Still, Lannon was not going to stand around on deck
and watch men drown. It was not his way. Dremlock's laws allowed for acts of
compassion toward the enemy--though at times throughout history Knights had
gone too far in aiding their foes and had been charged with treason. Lannon was
confident his actions were not treasonous. Kuran Darkender had been renowned
for his compassion toward his enemies.

As Doomar drew up alongside the ship, one of the
soldiers--who wasn't wounded at all--swam to the rowboat and climbed in. He was
a large man with a black beard and a hateful expression. He held a dagger in
one hand, and there was murder in his eyes. He gazed at the painting of Doomar's
mother that was lying on an empty seat. "Who's the ugly old hag,
Dwarf?"

Doomar's black eyes narrowed. "Get out of my boat. You
were not invited. How dare you threaten me with that knife when I have done
nothing to you? And how dare you speak ill of my mother?"

The soldier spat on the painting. "I'll cut out your
maggoty heart! You're nothing but a sick monster like your friend. No human
conquers a warship on his own. Goblin spawn from Tharnin!" His face
twisted into a mask of hate. "Goblin spawn, Goblin spawn!" Drool hung
from his lips.

"Leave me alone," said Doomar. "Go
away." For an instant he looked wounded, and then his face darkened with
rage.

With a spiteful hiss, the soldier lunged at Doomar,
swinging the dagger. But Doomar caught the fellow's wrist and lifted him into
the air. Doomar stood for a moment, shaking with rage, then hurled the soldier
against the warship so hard that bones and boards cracked. The limp man dropped
into the water.

Doomar stood there for a moment, trembling. Then he glanced
up at Lannon. "He shouldn't have attacked me."

Lannon nodded, amazed at the Dwarf's strength.

Doomar wiped off his painting. "I suppose I should
have kept this in my pack. I don't want it to get damaged."

Other soldiers had been swimming toward Doomar's rowboat,
but after witnessing the Dwarf's lethal display of strength, some of them held
back. Two determined fellows continued on, however.

"Stay away from my boat!" Doomar warned.

"Just get going," said Lannon. "I'll catch
up."

Doomar rowed away, leaving the soldiers to their fate.

Lannon jumped in and swam after him. He soon caught up and
climbed in. He took over the oars and headed for the two remaining warships.

Doomar appeared miserable. "Why are people so cruel
and wretched? If he hadn't tried to stab me, I wouldn't have harmed him. And
why spit on my mother? What did she ever do to him?"

Lannon had no answer. He was once again rowing like a
madman. "People create a lot of misery. There is so much bitterness in
this world. Life seems to have little value for some, whereas money is always
valued. It doesn't make any sense, if you think about it."