Knights: Legends of Ollanhar (6 page)

They clasped hands for a moment.

"I'm getting paid, right?" Saranna asked,
smiling.

"Considering the risks," said Lannon, "you
will be paid well. Aldreya will present you with a contract and an advance. You
will also be given a cut of any treasure we happen to obtain--though I can't
promise we'll find any."

"Count me in!" she said, with greater enthusiasm.
"I just have to finish up some business here, but I think I can leave
tomorrow."

"Tomorrow would be fine," said Lannon. "By
the way, if you know of any other Rangers who might want to join us, feel free
to invite them. But we're looking for the best fighters possible."

Saranna thought it over for a moment, then said, "I
know of two who would qualify. They are considered legends amongst the Rangers
and would likely demand a high price. Even Bellis respects them, for they are
the best."

"That's exactly what we're looking for," said
Lannon.

"They're also arrogant," she added. "The
authority of Dremlock--if it still has any authority these days--is meaningless
to them."

Lannon shrugged. "We desperately need great fighters,
arrogant or not. So where can I find these two?"

"I'll speak to them," said Saranna. "Just
give me the contracts. I will either show up with them at my side tomorrow, or
not."

Lannon nodded. He couldn't begin to understand the
mysterious ways of Rangers, so it was indeed best if Saranna handled the
recruiting.

She finished her stew in silence and then left the tavern.

***

As Saranna stepped out into the dusty street, she was
apprehensive. She was about to leave behind the only life she knew, on a quest
that was certain to gain her plenty of new enemies. She stood in contemplation
for a time, wondering if she should abandon this madness and stay in Red Barrel
where she had a chance to live in peace and do things her way.

She savored the pleasant breeze, her gaze moving past the
vegetable stands and sprawling oaks. A young girl was playing with a tame wolf,
and a farmer was washing vegetables in a tub of water. A fisherman was selling
poles and lures of many bright colors. There was not a soldier of Bellis to be
seen.

But those soldiers were everywhere else, punishing the
innocent, causing endless misery. People were suffering all over Gallamerth.

 
Yet Saranna wasn't
a Knight, and it wasn't her duty to make war on King Verlamer. If she rode with
Dremlock's servants, she was choosing to become an enemy of the king--which
could come back to haunt her in many ways. While Verlamer might excuse her
simply because she was hired help doing a job (paid mercenaries were seldom
held accountable, thanks to ancient laws that were still respected), the king's
behavior was hard to predict. It was unlikely, but he might take it personally
and seek to have her arrested or executed.

On the other hand, why should she expect others to fight
for her freedom? She had skills that were useful to Dremlock. Could she simply
leave this small band of Divine Knights to their fate? They were the only ones
left to challenge Bellis' tyranny, and they needed her help.

By choosing to go with them, Saranna was surrendering peace
and relative comfort for extreme peril and hardship. She was certain of that.
And while she might return richer if all went well, she might be forced to live
like a fugitive--afraid even to walk the streets of a remote town like Red
Barrel in daylight.

But it was her choice alone.

She was still a free woman and had to decide for herself.
If she opted to remain in Red Barrel, life would go on. No one would think ill
of her, and Lannon and his Knights would simply move on. After all, she wasn't
a legend like the two Rangers she was about to meet with. She was a woman
filled with doubts and regrets, weary of combat and struggle--someone who
dreamt of an easier life. She wasn't the Ranger of years before who had first
met Lannon in the Bloodlands. She was tired. So why had she agreed to a mission
that favored those with bold and adventurous spirits? What had she been
thinking?

"Freedom," she whispered to herself. That was the
answer. If she went on this quest, it was for the sole purpose of defending
freedom.

And the possibility of gaining vast treasure
, a
little voice in her mind added.

She sighed, hating that little voice.

You fool
, she thought.
You're buying into it,
just like Lannon wants you to. You'll probably come back with nothing--if you
come back at all.

***

The innkeeper--a tall, mostly-bald, heavyset man--emerged
from the kitchen. Lannon motioned him over. He had a friendly face but stern
eyes. He extended his hand. "Name's Balerus. And you are?"

"Lannon Sunshield, Knight of Dremlock."

Balerus bowed. "Welcome to my humble inn, Lannon. My
apologies if things are a bit chaotic in here."

Lannon shrugged. "This is a tavern, after all."

"It's more than that," said Balerus. "This
place binds the whole community together. Sure, there is fighting and bloodshed
in here now and then, but life is hard in this region. People need a place to
have some fun."

"How safe is this inn for a boy?" asked Lannon.
"Around twelve years of age, with a bit of a mouth on him."

"Safe enough," said the innkeeper. He lifted a
heavy club from behind the bar. "Does this answer your question?"

Lannon nodded.

"Believe me, I know how to use this," said
Balerus. "I have a young daughter to look after. Not always an easy task
in a tavern full of drunken men. So how long will the boy be staying
here?"

"Until the Knights come for him," said Lannon.

"Fair enough," said the innkeeper. "The boy
will be well cared for." He hesitated, then added, "There is one
problem, though. I can deal with any drunken fool who gets out of hand, but I
can't handle trained fighters." He fell silent.

"Tell me more," said Lannon.

"Each night," said the innkeeper, "three men
come to my door demanding money. These are huge men who know how to fight. They
have threatened to burn down my inn if I don't increase their so-called dues.
In return for those dues, they supposedly keep me safe from Bellis' soldiers.
It's utterly ridiculous, considering there are no soldiers in this area. It's
just an excuse to take my money."

"What about the Rangers?" asked Lannon.
"Don't they maintain law and order here?"

"I hired two Rangers to deal with them," said the
innkeeper. "They were beaten so badly they almost died. Since that
incident, the other Rangers are reluctant to get involved. At least the ones I
can afford. Believe it or not, I don't have much coin to spare right now. It's
cheaper for me just to pay those rogues than hire some of the more elite
Rangers to deal with them. Regardless, they do pose a real danger to this inn
and anyone staying here."

"I will confront the rogues," said Lannon.
"If I drive them away, will you agree to look after the boy?"

"Absolutely," said the innkeeper. "If you
get rid of them, I will let the boy stay here free of charge. But I want to
keep this whole thing quiet, and I want to avoid bloodshed if possible."

"If I handle it alone," said Lannon, "there
is less chance of bloodshed. My sword will stay in its sheath." Lannon
intended to try to reason with the men. Perhaps when they learned who he was,
they would stop terrorizing the innkeeper and find another way to earn a
living.

"That might be a grave mistake," said the
innkeeper. "These men are giants. I don't think it's wise even for a
Divine Knight to confront them alone. At least take one of your companions with
you."

Lannon considered it, then shook his head. "Just
me."

The innkeeper nodded, his face grim. "If you insist.
They always come quite late, after the tavern is closed. I may have to wake
you."

"Not a problem," said Lannon. "By the way,
my companions and I will be needing rooms if you have any to spare."

"I do," said the innkeeper, smiling. "My two
best rooms, reserved for special guests like Divine Knights. No extra charge.
Fair enough?"

"Fair enough," said Lannon, nodding.

***

Later that night, after the tavern was empty and quiet,
Lannon snapped awake to the sound of a gentle knock. As silent as a shadow, he
rose from his bed and belted on his sword. He slipped on his soft leather boots
and donned his Birlote cloak, adjusting the hood so it partially concealed his
face in shadow. He shifted the cloak so the hilt of his intimidating sword was
visible.

He glanced at his companions--which included Taith--and
found them sound asleep. He crept to the door and opened it. It made an
annoying creak, and he glanced back to see Taith shift about. But the lad
appeared to still be asleep.

Lannon stepped into the hall and gently closed the door.
The innkeeper's face was grim. He was holding his club.

"Are you sure about this, Lannon?" he asked.
"These rogues carry iron hammers and won't hesitate to cave in your
ribs--or maybe even your skull."

Lannon nodded, then went downstairs. The fireplace held
only coals, and a chill had crept into the tavern. Moonlight shone in through
the windows, revealing barren oak tables. The dead Goblins glowered at Lannon
with gleaming eyes. He glanced behind him and saw the innkeeper was following.

"Don't worry," whispered the innkeeper.
"I'll just watch through a window."

Loud banging on the front door broke the silence.

Lannon opened it and found a huge, bearded man standing
before him. The man's face was weathered and ugly, with an oversized nose, and
his shoulders were as wide as the doorframe. He wore rusty chain mail and held
an iron hammer in one hand. He seemed almost ogre-like.

Lannon pushed the man back a bit and stepped outside,
closing the door behind him. Two more men--similar in appearance to the first
one--stood before the door. They looked so much alike that Lannon assumed they
were brothers. They glared down at him--angry giants eager to smash him.

"Greetings," said Lannon. "I'm here on
behalf of the innkeeper."

"So you're paying his debt?" one of them asked.
He held out a sack. "Just drop the coins in there, then, and we'll be on
our way."

"Not going to happen," said Lannon. "I'm a
Knight of Dremlock Kingdom. I'm also a Dark Watchman. Does that mean anything
to you?"

"It does," one of them said. "You might be a
Knight, but you're no Dark Watchman. I think you're a liar."

"He is a
dirty
liar," another said.
"Look at his face."

"I'm not a liar," said Lannon, "but you're
clearly thieves. What gives you the right to steal from the innkeeper?"

"We're not stealing anything," one of them said.
"He owes us, and each night after he does business we come to
collect."

"We come to collect!" another echoed, raising his
hammer.

"Owes you for what?" asked Lannon.

"He hired us to keep the peace in his tavern,"
one of them said. "We worked for months with no pay except food and ale,
while he made excuses and empty promises. Finally we grew tired of it and
decided to force him to pay."

Lannon sensed they were being truthful. He was about to
take their side when one of the brothers tried to shove a hammer into his gut.

Lannon seized the hammer and tossed it far down the street
where it landed with a thud. "No need for that," he said. I believe
your story."

But the brothers weren't listening. They drove in on him
with fists and hammers, intent on breaking his bones. They were immensely
strong and fought with the fury of barbarians, swinging the heavy hammers with
shocking ease. But Lannon was too swift for them, dodging the blows.

Lannon hurled one of them against the wall of the inn,
cracking a few boards. He punched another one lightly in the stomach, winding
him and causing him to double over for a moment. He swatted a hammer aside with
his palm.

Stunned at Lannon's power, they backed away, looking grim.
Their eyes were wide with shock. It seemed they had given up.

"Had enough?" Lannon asked. "Let's talk,
then."

In response, one of them hurled his hammer at Lannon's gut.
It was a mighty throw that might have dropped a charging bull in its tracks.

Lannon caught the hammer, then held it forth in two hands.
"Enough of this," he said. "Let me show you what will happen if
you continue." With the Eye flooding through his muscles, Lannon bent the
stout iron handle into a circle. He tossed the mangled weapon to the ground.

The brothers bowed their heads, looking sullen.

"You are indeed a Dark Watchman," one of them
said. "And that means the innkeeper has won. He has truly cheated us out
of our money. I guess we'll just go back to the forge with nothing."

"This isn't fair," another said. "Our
blacksmith business is failing, and we desperately needed that money to buy
better supplies. We'll be forced to close now. But we obviously can't defeat
you."

"You don't have to," said Lannon. He was
determined to help them. "How much does the innkeeper owe you?"

"Eight silver each," one of them answered.

"He owes that much?" said Lannon, sighing. He
wanted to kick the innkeeper in the shin for cheating these three brothers.
They were obviously simple men who worked hard for what they had and didn't
deserve such poor treatment. He sensed that under different circumstances they
would have been likable fellows.

They nodded. "We did a lot of work. We practically
lived at the tavern. We also helped with cleaning, cooking, serving
drinks--everything."

"I'll pay it for him," said Lannon. He opened his
pouch and gave them their silver. It was a lot of money, but he was certain
Aldreya would understand. "That ends it then, right? You'll trouble him no
more?"