Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  “You look worried,” said Taith. He picked up a stick and tossed it into the fire. A winged shadow soared across the campsite—an ugly shadow that indicated a Goblin Vulture out on the hunt. The horses snorted and stomped. Taith shivered.

  Galvia glared at him. “I’m not worried—just pondering things. And you should be in bed.” She waved him away. “Go to your tent and sleep, little man. We have a lot of riding to do tomorrow…after the others return.”

  Taith didn’t move. “I’m worried too. What if Lannon never comes back? Who will look after me? Not Daledus, I hope.”

  “Daledus is a great warrior,” said Galvia. “Show him some respect. He may seem harsh to you, but he would defend you with his life.”

  “That Dwarf scares me,” said Taith, “and he’s extremely loud like my father. I’m afraid he might beat me. But Lannon isn’t like that. Lannon treats me kindly most of the time. I don’t want anything bad to happen to him.”

  “Lannon is a Dark Watchman,” said Galvia. “He can look after himself.” The winged shadow passed over the campsite again, and Galvia glanced up, catching a glimpse of a dark, hideous shape.

  “What does that mean?” asked Taith. “To be a Dark Watchman?”

  Wolf howls came from the peaks, and then more howls erupted in response from another direction. Taith looked around fearfully. Goblin Wolves, by the sound of them. Other noises could be heard—strange cries and shrieks. The mountains were thoroughly infested with Goblins and other terrors.

  Galvia hesitated, wondering how to respond. She wasn’t sure she was qualified to answer that, considering how little she knew about Lannon and his predecessors. At last she said, “It means he’s not a normal Knight. He’s much more powerful—more like Taris Warhawk the sorcerer. But different even than Taris.”

  “Like Kuran Darkender, maybe?” asked Taith. “I saw his statue in the shrine. He looked very strong. Was he a Dark Watchman?”

  Galvia shook her head. “Kuran Darkender was a shield-bearing Brown Knight, which was the first color class appointed by the Divine Essence. He was very powerful for a Knight, but he wasn’t a Dark Watchman. Lannon has a special gift that not even Kuran Darkender possessed—the Eye of Divinity. It makes him more of a sorcerer than a warrior.” She wasn’t sure why she was bothering to explain all this to a mere lad, but talking about it seemed to make her feel better and restored her confidence that Lannon and the others would prevail.

  “I have that power too,” said Taith. “Well, I can’t make it work right now, but maybe when I get older. I can’t wait to learn how to use it.”

  Galvia nodded. “Your time will come, Taith.”

  They sat in silence for a while, gazing at the fire. The winged shadow did not return. The mountains seemed suddenly very quiet.

  “Who would win in a fight?” asked Taith, finally breaking the silence. “Lannon, or Kuran Darkender? I’m betting Lannon would win.”

  Galvia laughed. It was a childish question, but one she found very interesting to contemplate. “It is said that Kuran Darkender was nearly invincible, but who knows? He never fought a Dark Watchman, to my knowledge. I’ve seen Lannon fight, and I know what he is capable of.” She hesitated, not daring to suggest that Kuran Darkender could lose—but not wanting to diminish Lannon’s stature either. At last she simply shrugged and said, “It would be an intriguing battle.”

  “I’d love to see that,” said Taith, “as long as it wasn’t to the death. You look like a strong warrior too, especially for a girl. You look like you could break me in half! I’m glad you’re here to protect me.”

  Galvia nodded. “Amongst the Grey Dwarves, many of the women are as strong as the men. We can do everything they can do.”

  “Then where is your beard?” asked Taith. “Daledus seems to love his beard, even though he told me some of it was burned off. He said a thick beard is very important to a Grey Dwarf, yet you don’t have one.”

  “Thankfully,” said Galvia, rolling her eyes. “The men boast of their beards, but the women know it is meaningless and are just fine without them. It’s all talk. Does a beard help in combat? No, it only gets in the way.”

  Taith laughed. “You would not look good with a beard. I just pictured that in my mind. It was not a pleasant thing to imagine.”

  “I would guess not,” said Galvia, and they shared a laugh.

  “Are your parents still alive?” asked Taith.

  Galvia nodded. “Alive, and still fairly young by Olrog standards. I just got a letter from them two weeks ago. They are very proud of my progress. I haven’t had a chance to write them back yet.” That last statement made her anxious. Her father especially was waiting to hear from her, and she had so much to tell both of them. Emotion gripped her heart, but her face remained stony.

  “Where did you grow up?” Taith asked.

  “In a mountain city,” said Galvia. “I spent most of my youth in tunnels and caverns. Life was very hard. All I did was work and study. Be glad you’re not an Olrog, Taith. It’s so much easier for me at Dremlock. It wasn’t at first, when I was a Squire, but now that I’m a Knight I have more freedom. That’s something you can look forward to.”

  “I want to be a great warrior like Lannon,” said Taith. “I know he’ll look after me and make sure I do my best.”

  Galvia smiled. “You’ve changed rather quickly. Not long ago you were very obnoxious, but now I find myself enjoying your company.”

  “Daledus changed me,” said Taith, frowning. “He scares me. I never know what he’s going to do or say. And his fists are huge.”

  “Don’t be afraid of him,” said Galvia. “Just show him respect.”

  Taith nodded, his eyes wide. “Definitely.”

  Garaloth Demonfoe, the self-appointed bard, approached them. He shivered, moving closer to the fire. “The night grows cold, my dear friends, and we are left to fend for ourselves against the mountains. The cold is everywhere thanks to the Deep Shadow.” He raised his flute. “Perhaps a song would warm us.”

  “Later,” said Galvia, not in the mood for music.

  Garaloth bowed. “No worries. I only play to entertain and when everyone is in agreement.” A shadow darkened his face. “Perhaps I wanted a bit of music only because the mountains seemed so quiet all of a sudden. It seems the Goblins have all gone to sleep for the night.”

  “Or perhaps they are feasting,” said Galvia.

  Garaloth shuddered. “I would be honored to assume the first period of guard duty. I’m wide awake, you see—still fired up from that magnificent Crimson Feast. I still cannot believe the Divine Essence actually spoke through me!” He shook his head in amazement. “I will always consider that my greatest honor as a Knight, no matter what happens in the years to come.”

  Galvia smiled. “Of course. And that’s why you will be second in command here, Garaloth. The Divine Essence must have chosen you for a reason. That will probably earn you a promotion from the Council.”

  Garaloth bowed twice, his expression eager. “I can only hope.”

  “About the guard duty,” said Galvia. ” I want three warriors on watch all night—at three different points around the camp. Our enemies might choose to attack us while our numbers are diminished and Prince Vannas and Lannon are away.”

  Garaloth glanced about, a flicker of fear in his eyes. “Ah, I didn’t think of that. I figured we would be safe here, while the others would be the ones in peril. But you’re definitely right about that.”

  Taith rose, his eyes wide. “We’re going to be attacked?”

  Galvia realized her mistake in speaking freely in front of the boy. “It’s a possibility, Taith, and nothing more. But rest assured we will do everything possible to protect you. We have many stout Knights on hand.”

  Garaloth winked at the boy. “Fear nothing, Taith, for the Divine Essence will protect us. I shall play a song for you on my flute. If Galvia will allow it.”

  Galvia nodded. “For Taith, then.”

  Garaloth played a
soft and gentle tune—a haunting melody that made Taith close his eyes and appear to drift off to sleep. The music merged with the crackling of the fire, and a peaceful feeling settled over the camp, promising that it would be a night of warmth, safety, and pleasant dreams in spite of their grim surroundings.

  Galvia sat down with her back to a tree, her war hammer lying next to her. She closed her eyes, letting the music relax her toward sleep. She thought of Jerret—already missing her best friend. Time seemed to slow until it became meaningless, drifting away like the notes in the air, until all that remained was the timeless music that existed beyond mortal pain and fear. Convinced that nothing would harm them, she said a prayer of thanks to the Divine Essence for blessing her with Knighthood and then let herself drift into a peaceful slumber.

  She fell asleep convinced all would be well.

  Yet when Galvia awoke sometime later, when the fire had died down to coals and Taith and Garaloth were sound asleep, she realized it was all an illusion. There was no peace or safety to be found in the Soddurn Mountains. This was a place of terror and death, and something ugly was bound to happen here. Yet the attack did not come from the creatures of the peaks—but from Bellis.

  The Lawkeeper and his warriors had entered the camp with their weapons drawn—intent on bloodshed. Their faces were twisted with malice, and they never spoke a word as they charged in for the kill.

  “Flee, Taith!” Galvia cried, to the sleeping lad—causing him to snap awake. She rose, war hammer in hand—dread gripping her heart.

  This was a fight to the death.

  ***

  As the Council of Ollanhar moved higher into the mountains, the weather turned foul. It started slowly, with the wind picking up and thunder rumbling—the great pines swaying and creaking around them. Lightning flashed in the peaks, and then the rain began. It started as a drizzle and soon became a raging downpour beneath the pitch-black sky, sweeping over the riders in sheets.

  The Knights used a pair of Birlote torches to guide them. The glowing gems fastened to silver rods were impervious to the rain, casting a crimson glow around the party. The storm seemed sinister—a deliberate attempt by the Deep Shadow to slow their progress. But the warriors would not be slowed, for they were desperate to rescue the prince and the White Flamestone. The fate of Dremlock Kingdom, Ollanhar Tower, and perhaps all the land depended upon this mission.

  Lannon hunkered down beneath his hooded cloak, the water rolling off the Birlote silk. Like everyone else, he was concerned about the lightning—knowing that a bolt could strike without warning and kill both rider and horse. Lannon was able to shield himself with his sorcery, but sustaining such a shield was tiresome and he had no idea if it could stop a lightning bolt completely. Even the Bearer of the Eye was not necessarily safe from the wrath of the storm.

  As he guided his horse over the gnarled roots of a huge pine, Lannon paused to gaze at the tree, which was ugly and twisted—with big knobs protruding from the bark that looked vaguely like demonic faces. As the lightning flashed, the face-like bulbs were revealed, leering down at Lannon and sending chills along his spine. The Eye of Divinity showed that the tree was infested with the Deep Shadow and filled with hatred toward the riders, craving their doom. The roots trembled beneath the hoofs of Lannon’s horse, recoiling at the animal’s touch.

  Then another lightning flash revealed two figures standing by a boulder near the tree—handsome men with pale skin and jaws that hung open to an unnatural degree to reveal long, curved fangs. Like the ancient pine, these creatures despised humans and delighted in their destruction.

  Lannon cried a warning, as the Ghouls leapt in for the kill.

  One of the creatures went for Dallsa, seizing her leg and trying to pull her off her horse. The healer cried out in disgust and smashed the Ghoul in the head with her steel mace, but the weapon deflected off the skull as if it had struck stone. The Ghoul ripped the mace from Dallsa’s hand and flung it aside.

  Lannon leapt from his saddle high into the air—right over Dallsa and the Ghoul—and landed behind the creature, sword in hand. He plunged the weapon into the Ghoul’s back. The Ghoul hissed in displeasure and released Dallsa. Lannon withdrew his blade, focused his energy, and tried to behead the creature. But the Ghoul ducked the stroke and tackled Lannon, bearing him to the ground.

  Meanwhile, the other Ghoul had gone for Jerret, knocking him from his horse and ending up on top of the Red Knight, choking him. Aldreya hurled a fireball at it and missed, the burning orb exploding against the huge pine and making the tree shudder. The Ghoul sought to crush Jerret’s throat as it grinned, drool dripping from its gleaming fangs.

  With a grunt, Jerret shoved the creature off and rose, flaming broadsword in hand. As the Ghoul leapt toward him again, reaching for him with fingers bent like claws, Jerret cut off its arm. The Ghoul seized Jerret’s sword with its remaining hand, but the flames that engulfed the weapon were burning so hot that it screeched in agony and let go.

  With a sneer and a brutal swing, Jerret beheaded his foe.

  Lannon froze his adversary and shoved the Ghoul away—sending it hurtling into a tree with a cracking of bone and wood. An instant later an arrow from Lothrin’s bow lodged in the creature’s forehead. But the Ghoul tore the arrow away and started forward again.

  Lannon rose, a cloaked shadow in the raging storm, and as the Ghoul staggered toward him in a daze, its fingers reaching for his neck, he darted forward as swift as the wind and cut off its head.

  But two more Ghouls had leapt from behind boulders and entered the fray—one of them charging at Aldreya and the other pulling Jace from his horse.

  The Ghoul that attacked Aldreya didn’t fare too well, as she calmly hurled a green fireball from her stone dagger and struck it in the face. The Ghoul’s head exploded into glowing fragments that landed like stones pelting the earth and trees. The headless body took a couple of steps and then toppled over.

  Jace rolled around on the ground, trying to dislodge his Ghoul before it could find his throat with its fangs. Jerret and Lannon rushed over to assist him, but they couldn’t get a clear swing at the creature. At last Jace managed to shove it away, and the sorcerer rose, hands raised for battle.

  But before the Ghoul could charge Jace, Lannon and Jerret both impaled it with their swords from behind, driving it to its knees. Then Jace leapt in for the kill, slamming his fist down on the creature’s forehead—a shattering blow that left the Ghoul instantly limp in death, the dark sorcery that animated it fleeing from the body like a foul mist.

  Jace motioned to Lannon. “Cut off its head so it cannot live again.” He spoke loudly to be heard over the storm—almost yelling.

  Lannon did as Jace wished.

  The sorcerer groaned, rubbing his shoulder. “Very powerful foes—and I fear just a small sample of what is to come. What a wretched place this is!” The rain quickly washed the dirt and pine needles from his hair and cloak.

  They climbed back onto their horses.

  Daledus frowned. “Well that happened rather quickly. I didn’t even get a chance to join in.” His axe was still strapped to his back.

  Dallsa shuddered, glancing fearfully toward the trees and boulders. “How many of these things are lurking about?”

  “Who knows?” Aldreya replied. “The mountains could be crawling with them. They remind me of the Stonemen of Old Hill Forest.”

  “They are very much like the Stonemen,” Lannon agreed, remembering his encounter with the zombies that had pursued him so relentlessly.

  “Such horrible monsters,” said Dallsa. “It sickens me what was done to Bekka—the pain and loss that she is enduring because of a single bite. I could sense her feelings—that her very soul was devoured and she is now empty. It is just a bitter illusion, but she doesn’t yet know that. I wish they were all dead.”

  “You may get your wish,” said Jerret. “We may have to kill all of them to regain possession of the White Flamestone.”

  “Yet it wasn
’t a Ghoul that took Prince Vannas,” said Lannon. “It was something much more powerful—perhaps whatever spawned these Ghouls. I’m guessing a Barloak Demon, like the one I encountered in Old Hill Forest. If that’s the case, we will have a rough time of it. I’m not sure we can win.”

  “Without the Flamestone,” said Aldreya, “it won’t be easy. But what choice do we have?” She looked doubtful. “Yes, we must continue on.”

  “And what of my cousin?” said Lothrin, pain in his eyes. “He must surely be dead by now. There would be no reason for our enemies to keep him alive. Surely they would view him as a threat and eliminate him quickly.”

  “Don’t underestimate the White Flamestone,” said Jace. “Vannas has grown more powerful and will not be easy to kill—not even for a Barloak Demon. That gives us a slim hope that we can save him.”

  “I don’t understand,” said Lothrin. “He is still a flesh-and-blood mortal. If he was ambushed, how could the Flamestone protect him?”

  “Sorcerers are difficult to kill,” said Jace. “Our bodies change over time from the magic we wield. We toughen up a bit.”

  “My cousin is not a sorcerer,” said Lothrin.

  “I beg to differ,” said Jace. “A sorcerer is one who uses sorcery on a frequent basis. I believe our good prince fits that definition.”

  They fell silent, the effort too great of having to yell their words to be heard above the storm. Lightning split the air close to them, striking a towering pine and catching it on fire. The pine blazed like a torch, burning branches falling to the ground. The riders halted, uncertain if they should attempt to continue on.

  But at last Aldreya motioned them forward.

  Lannon lost sight of Prince Vannas’ trail. It simply vanished—along with that of whatever creature of Tharnin had been accompanying him. Lannon paused, scouring the terrain in an effort to locate it again, as the others waited with bowed heads in the lashing rain. Finally Lannon gave up.