Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  Faindan quietly slipped into the murky water next to the tower and waded around it. There was a quick drop off and the water was up to his chest. He hesitated, chills rippling over his flesh. His inability to see below the surface was quite disturbing, and for a moment he considered abandoning this idea. He assumed the fish-eating Goblin wouldn’t be much of a match for a Divine Knight, one hand or not, but the thought of it snagging his legs in the dark depths made him shudder.

  Nevertheless, he moved on around the tower, determined to give Gelarro what he wanted. When he reached the area of the tower that was furthest out in the river, the water was still at chest level. His arm had grown tired, and his Flayer was resting below the surface. He decided he would begin randomly striking at the base and hope he connected with Goblin flesh. His biggest fear was that the beast would flee down the river.

  Then something struck him with a dastardly jolt—almost like an electric shock tearing through his muscles. Powerful tentacles wound around him, squeezing with such force that only his Knightly sorcery saved him by shielding his body. He could barely breathe before he was yanked below the surface.

  Faindan was stunned and horrified. He had never expected the Goblin to attack with such speed, strength, and fury. Too late he realized and this was no simple fish eater but a mighty, bone-crushing foe—probably an ancient beast that had been put in the moat when the castle was still standing.

  Faindan fought back with everything he had, but in a few moments he realized he was going to drown. He realized Gelarro would find him dead—his skeleton and his clothes, if nothing else—and the artist’s despair would grow. Faindan had made the biggest error of his life, wading into the river for an easy kill and being ambushed by something he had no hope of defeating.

  His mind began to grow dim, and he stopped fighting, waiting for death to take him. It seemed his time in the world had reached an end.

  Then a bright light seemed to flood the water—a piercing light that entered his body, mind, heart, and soul and filled him with energy and strength. Suddenly a magnificent bearded Knight was standing before him, filling his vision—a huge, muscular warrior wearing the shining silver breastplate that only a Lord Knight of Dremlock wore. This great Knight had a commanding and divine presence, his flesh and armor engulfed in a radiant glow.

  It was Kuran Darkender.

  The vision was unmistakable. This was the first and greatest Lord Knight of Dremlock, his image burned deeply into the mind of every Divine Knight. For a few moments all Faindan knew was the glory and presence of this great warrior, and then he broke free of the Goblin’s tentacles, tearing the slimy things apart. His Flayer drove deep into the beast, finding its heart and finishing it.

  Moments later Faindan somehow found himself on the river bank with the slain Goblin lying next to him. He was alive and unharmed.

  Kuran Darkender was gone.

  ***

  When Gelarro returned, Faindan said nothing about his vision of Kuran Darkender. That was Knightly business and not something for the artist’s ears. Gelarro was delighted to see the dead Goblin. He knelt by the creature on the river bank and stroked its tentacles, an awed look on his face.

  “What an amazing beast,” Gelarro said, shaking his head. “Who knows how old it is? It came up the river a few years ago and cleaned out nearly all the fish. But its fishing days are done with. I hope killing it wasn’t too much trouble.”

  “Not at all,” said Faindan. “I killed it with a single blow.”

  The artist looked a bit disappointed. “I would have thought the battle would be a bit more perilous than that. Ah well. Maybe my imagination got the best of me in thinking this beast was such a menace.”

  Realizing his mistake, Faindan said, “Oh, it was a perilous fight. Actually, I’m rather fortunate to be alive.”

  Gelarro raised his eyebrows, and his smile returned. “Well then, perhaps I should pay you a bit of silver for your troubles. I did well in town and have some to spare.” He reached into his tunic pocket, but Faindan shook his head.

  “Keep your silver. You’ve done enough for me.”

  “And yet you’ve done so much more for me,” said Gelarro. “You made my river safe again and gave me something to decorate my home—something that is sure to improve my mood. You see, when I awaken on a cold, dreary morning to cruel silence, and I think to myself that there are heartless monsters in the world, I will look upon this Goblin and know that some monsters are just savage beasts seeking to feed. They are not evil like humans are. I can’t explain it, but that means something to me. The sight of this beast is refreshing—because this is evil in a simple and childish way. Not the twisted, abhorrent, and complex ways of humanity. The real monsters are humans without conscience, not hungry Goblins just looking for food.” He sighed, as if unable to clearly speak his thoughts. “It’s silly, I know.”

  “It isn’t silly at all,” said Faindan, though he didn’t understand. Goblins were born of evil—the children of the Deep Shadow. It seemed that Gelarro was confused from so much pain, grasping at thoughts that made perfect sense to him but were incoherent to Faindan. Regardless, he seemed to be having a moment of joy, and that made the bitter fight with the Goblin seem worth it.

  “I must ride on now,” said Faindan. “Farewell.”

  Gelarro nodded. “Farewell, great Knight of the Divine Order. If…if you ever…” He fought back emotion. “If you ever happen to encounter my wife and daughter, their names are…” He clutched his forehead and groaned. “Their names are Leiathell—my wife—and Caithlin. Last name of Braxul. Blonde hair, blue eyes…” He hung his head in sorrow.

  “Leiathell and Caithlin,” Faindan repeated gently. “Blonde hair and blue eyes. I will remember this and watch for them.”

  Gelarro bowed. “I thank you so much…”

  Faindan left him there, kneeling on the bank by his dead Goblin. He rode away from the lonely house without looking back.

  Chapter 11:

  The Celebration that was Ill Fated

  Lannon Sunshield and the Divine Knights rode into the Soddurn Mountains along rocky, narrow trails that led between boulders and stunted pines. The thick fog, steep slopes, and muddy ground made the journey treacherous, as the horses slipped and stumbled. After the attack on Lannon and Bekka, the Knights were staying fully alert, riding in silence and watching everything (or as much as could be watched with the dreadfully thick mist shrouding the landscape).

  Bekka was still unconscious—lying in the back of a wagon—since being bitten by the Ghoul. She moaned and writhed about in her sleep, waving her arms as if to ward off unseen foes. Whatever nightmare she was trapped in was too horrible for the others to imagine, yet they could do nothing to wake her. Dallsa had already spent hours working on Bekka, yet she showed little sign of improvement.

  Everyone wanted to get through the Soddurn Mountains quickly and without further incident, but the going was torturously slow. They felt like arrogant intruders (and perhaps they were), boldly daring to venture where so many others had perished over the centuries. The Knights were supposed to fear these mountains and go around them, as most everyone else did, but with the White Flamestone in their possession, they rode straight into the gloomy peaks where forgotten horrors of the Deep Shadow lurked and hungered for human flesh.

  They made camp for the evening on a fairly level area amidst some pines. They built a bonfire with dead, grey trees that looked like a huge pile of burning bones. Smoldering pieces of ash drifted with the breeze beneath the pine boughs. They cooked bear meat for dinner, and a young Blue Knight named Garaloth Demonfoe played melodies on a flute. Garaloth was a short, stocky Red Knight with red hair and a beard and a constant cheerful expression. He had been trained as a bard and was also the scribe and record keeper.

  “There is so much gloom in these mountains,” said Garaloth, “that I propose we hold a Knightly celebration—a Crimson Feast to be more precise. We need to show these slaves of Tharnin that we do not fear t
hem, that Divine Knights will make merry anywhere and under any circumstances.”

  Lannon had never taken part in a Crimson Feast before. This was just one of many rituals and celebrations held by Dremlock. He glanced down at Taith, who was standing next to him looking bored.

  “Would you like to celebrate with us?” Lannon asked.

  “No,” said Taith. “Why should we celebrate? I don’t like these mountains. They make me feel sad and afraid, like all of us are going to die.”

  “That’s the presence of the Deep Shadow,” said Lannon. “It gets into the mind and tries to drain your will. You have to learn to resist it.”

  “I don’t like the Deep Shadow,” said Taith. “Don’t like it one bit. Can’t we just keep riding until we get through the mountains?”

  Lannon didn’t bother to answer.

  “I think we should indeed celebrate,” said Aldreya. “It would make a powerful statement—to hold a Crimson Feast in the Soddurn Mountains.”

  “Yet it could also offend our enemies,” said Jace. “It could stir up the evil against us and make our foes bold. That could lead to bloodshed.”

  “Bloodshed has already occurred,” said Aldreya. “Bekka Nightspear lies in the back of a wagon, seemingly more dead than alive. She hasn’t gotten a moment of rest since being bitten. The Soddurn Mountains struck first, and now it is up to us to respond. We will show our defiance.”

  “I’m with Jace on this,” said Vorden, who was leaning against a pine and holding his spiked shield. His face looked troubled. “I know more about the Deep Shadow than anyone here. I was a prisoner of it for a long time. I suggest we just quietly slip through the mountains, as quickly as we can. With Lannon and Prince Vannas riding with us, the servants of Tharnin may simply opt to let us pass through. But not if we hold this feast. If we dare to honor the Crimson Flamestone that killed so many creatures of Tharnin, we are sure to be attacked.”

  “Listen to Vorden,” said Jace. “He, above all others, is wise in the ways of Tharnin. Let us simply eat, sleep, and ride on come morning.”

  “Perhaps my suggestion was foolish,” said Garaloth. He sighed and ran his fingers through his red hair. “I…I wasn’t really thinking about the consequences. I certainly don’t want to stir up our foes.”

  “Why not?” said Jerret. “Bekka is suffering wretchedly. And as Divine Knights we’re supposed to simply ignore that and slink off through the mountains? We need a bold statement—one that will set an example for all the land. So many Knights have vanished here. We owe it to them to show we are not afraid.”

  Aldreya smiled. “Well said, Jerret. I very much agree.”

  Galvia patted Jerret on the back. “You are growing more wise each day, my very good friend. Yes, we need to show Tharnin what we’re made of.”

  “Even if we hold this feast,” said Prince Vannas, “Tharnin will not dare attack us. They would burn in white fire. No, our foes will hide in the fog and fear us like the cowards they are.”

  “But there is a fortress in these peaks,” said Jace, “called Wallrock. Many Knights were taken to that foul place and met some terrible end. I do not speak in jest. There is a real fortress filled with real enemies of immense power that could be unleashed upon us. Have we come here to start a war? No, our goal is the Green Flamestone and our conflict with Bellis.”

  “We have not come to start a war,” said Aldreya, “but we are Divine Knights, and wherever we go, we must display the banner of Dremlock and the Divine Essence. It is our duty to never show fear or weakness.”

  Jace sighed. “With all due respect, Green Knight, you’re not thinking clearly. This isn’t about fear or weakness. Sometimes stealth and avoidance of conflict is desirable, and I firmly believe that is the case right now.”

  “I’m with Vorden and Jace,” said Lothrin. “No need for us to hold this celebration when we can quietly go about our business.”

  “I want a feast,” said Daledus. “And a grand one at that. With a crimson bonfire and everything else. We shall make this mountain bow to our will.”

  “What is your opinion, Lannon?” asked Aldreya.

  “Lannon wants to leave here quickly,” Taith answered, “without any feast.” He squeezed Lannon’s arm. “Right, Lannon?”

  “You don’t speak for me, Taith,” Lannon said firmly. “Now go sit down and stay out of this discussion.” He pointed at a log.

  Sighing, Taith shuffled over and sat.

  “I’m not sure I want to hold the feast,” said Lannon. “I love Dremlock’s traditions, and I do want to honor all the Knights who have died in these mountains…but I don’t know. We don’t want to start a war up here.”

  “I need a firm decision from you,” said Aldreya.

  Lannon hesitated, then said, “My decision is…it would be best if we didn’t hold the feast. I’m trusting Jace and Vorden on that.”

  “Some are in favor, some are against,” said Aldreya. “So who feels comfortable with me making the final decision?”

  The Council Members all raised hands.

  “Very well,” said Aldreya. She stood in silence for a time, then said, “I can almost feel the souls of the fallen around me. I can almost hear them asking for this feast to show they did not die in vain. I think the Divine Essence would want this. Therefore, we will go ahead with it.”

  Vorden slammed his shield down and walked away.

  Jace nodded. “So be it. We must be cautious, then, and limit how much wine and ale we drink. We will have to watch everything.”

  Garaloth shrugged, then threw a concoction into the fire and changed it to a crimson hue. He said, “Well, looks like we’re going to do this. I must admit I feel a bit apprehensive in light of our conversation. But…” He grinned broadly. “But if we’re going to proceed, let us celebrate like Divine Knights!”

  The crowd cheered.

  Garaloth raised his arms proudly and said, “We hold this feast in honor of the dead—those valiant Knights who dared enter these mountains, for whatever reasons they had at the time, and found only suffering and death.” He bowed his head. “Indeed, we cannot even imagine what they endured, in the blood-soaked cliffs and in that terrible fortress of Wallrock where all hope and goodness has withered away. They must have felt so alone and so far from home.”

  Garaloth stood in silence for a few moments. Then he went on, in a louder voice: “And we are here to honor the Crimson Flamestone, the Blood of the Divine Essence that cleansed the world of the Barloak Demons.”

  A burst of spark and flame rose from the fire.

  Garaloth suddenly turned, and his eyes were glowing crimson. A gasp arose from the Knights. He said: “We also hold this feast in honor of Ethrin, son of Lothrin, that he may be the first in over two-thousand years—two-thousand years—to hold the Crimson Flamestone in his hands.”

  The Knights looked on in amazement, for they knew the Divine Essence was speaking through Garaloth. It was no longer the Red Knight before them, but a human vessel filled with the mind of their god.

  Aldreya turned to Lothrin, an expression of awe on her face. “Our god speaks of your future son, Lothrin. Respond!”

  Lothrin stepped forward, his face pale. “My future son will be named Ethrin? Yet how will I produce a son if I remain a Divine Knight?”

  “Ethrin Windbow will be his name,” replied the Divine Essence. “I command it to be so. You must strive to bear a son—when the time is right—and name him such. Yet the Sacred Laws cannot be broken.”

  Lothrin reached up and touched the strange, leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. “Then Ethrin will be the one. He will be marked by the leaf that burns. Only he will be able to remove the Crimson Flamestone from its bed of straw, where Olzet Ka, our mighty king, placed it so long ago.” He spoke with deep reverence.

  Lannon couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Was the Divine Essence actually speaking through Garaloth, or was it some trick of the Deep Shadow? Lannon could feel the presence of his god, however, and his doubts vanish
ed. He glanced about and saw only expressions of shock and wonder.

  Jace’s eyes were fierce with emotion as he watched the scene unfold. At last, the huge sorcerer stepped close to Lothrin and laid a hand on his shoulder. “You must tell us more, oh mighty lord of Dremlock! Tell us everything that you know so we will understand how to serve you better!”

  “I know only this,” said the Divine Essence, again speaking through Garaloth. “My blood must be free again in the land, or there will be no land. All of the Flamestones are one, even though they remain apart. Find one, and it will lead you to another. I will go silent now for seven years, during which time many things will be decided. There will certainly be much pain and loss, but if my Knights stay strong and true, there will be victory as well.”

  Lannon and Prince Vannas stepped forward, waiting for words of wisdom. As the two most important warriors at Dremlock, they hoped the Divine Essence would take a moment to guide them. But their god hadn’t appeared for that purpose, and Garaloth’s lips spoke no more.

  Finally, Garaloth’s eyes became normal.

  “Incredible,” said Jace. “I haven’t seen such a thing…well, ever. Not that it hasn’t happened before, but I wasn’t around to see it.”

  Lothrin looked stunned. “Our god wants me to produce a son and name him Ethrin Windbow. The name makes sense. It is one of Birlote royalty. But…I am to produce a son without violating the Sacred Laws that forbid marriage? It is impossible!”

  “In time, anything is possible,” said Aldreya.

  “Your son will hold the Crimson Flamestone?” said Prince Vannas, looking skeptical. “While I trust in our god, it just doesn’t seem likely. Any son of yours, Lothrin, would be inclined to spend his days hunting and fishing and wandering the forest, not wielding a Flamestone.”

  “Lothrin’s son might gain possession of it,” said Jace. “He apparently has the potential to remove it from the straw. This is a huge revelation, my friends. This is what I have been seeking for a long time, because I know only the Flamestones can defeat Bellis and the Deep Shadow now.”