Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  The three men waited for Lort to sit. With a trembling hand, he pulled his chair out and nearly tipped it over. “Sorry,” he mumbled, as he seated himself.

  “Would you like some tea?” asked Taris.

  “Certainly,” said Lort, and Taris pushed a teapot toward him.

  Lort poured a cup, but spilled some of it on the table. He felt like an utter fool. “Sorry, I’m kind of clumsy today.”

  Shennen glanced at Taris, looking amused.

  Taris allowed Lort to sip at his tea for a moment, then said, “I’m sure you’re wondering why you’ve been summoned. We’ll get to that in a moment. But first, we have a few things we need to discuss.”

  “I have something I want to discuss,” said Trenton. “Has there been any word on Lannon Sunshield and Prince Vannas? Has a Hawk arrived?”

  “No,” said Taris. “I’m hoping we can take that as a good sign. By now they should be beyond the Soddurn Mountains and into new lands…unless, of course, they encountered trouble.”

  “Which they probably did,” said Shennen. “As you know, I wasn’t in favor of them taking that route—even with the White Flamestone to guide them. Too many dangers there. Too many highly skilled Knights have perished in those mountains—including Ulruk Spiritblade, one of the greatest Blue Knights in Dremlock’s history who had survived many perilous missions.”

  “Exactly,” said Trenton. His weathered face was twisted into a scowl of disapproval. “It was a foolish decision to send them there, Taris, and like Shennen, I believe they probably have found trouble.”

  Taris shrugged. “It was by far the quickest route to our goal, and time is vitally important. And this discussion is pointless. The decision was made and now we must deal with the consequences.”

  Lort had no idea what they were talking about, so he simply sat and listened without interrupting. This was some sort of official High Council business, and a topic probably not meant for his ears. Yet the Green Knights seemed unconcerned with his presence, even glancing at him as they spoke.

  “What about Ollanhar?” asked Shennen. “How are things there?”

  “The Nine Axes arrived late,” said Taris, “of course. It seems they were distracted by some taverns along the way. But they are there now, and the tower is well defended. It is my opinion that Tenneth Bard will launch a fierce attack now that Lannon and Prince Vannas are gone on a mission. I’m not certain Furlus can hold the tower, and I feel we need to send more Knights.”

  “Send more Knights,” Trenton mused. “That’s always the answer to everything. Yet we have so few Knights to spare. How are we supposed to maintain possession of Ollanhar and expand to other fortresses when we lack the numbers to do so? Has recruiting improved at all lately?”

  “Yes, slightly,” said Taris.

  “Slightly?” said Trenton, shaking his head. “Yet Bellis continues to make it terribly difficult for us to find new Squires. The fact that they still control the cities of Silvergate, Kalamede, and Gravendar has hurt us in so many ways. Trade has diminished to the point where we almost find ourselves in a state of emergency. King Verlamer has managed to isolate us and weaken us with masterful skill. Our resources are dwindling. Again, how are we expected to expand?”

  “We require new resources, obviously,” said Taris. “Chief amongst those new resources is the Green Flamestone. With that in our possession, we can risk war with Bellis and begin pushing back—starting in the aforementioned cities of Silverland. We will demand that trade and recruiting commence unrestricted.”

  “Green Flamestone?” Lort questioned, speaking before he could contain himself. He clamped his hand over his mouth, then lowered it and said, “Perhaps I wasn’t supposed to ask about it.”

  “Feel free to speak, Lort,” said Taris. “Consider yourself a part of this discussion. Otherwise, we would not have summoned you.”

  “Thank you, Master Taris,” said Lort, bowing. “It is a great honor to be included.” He hesitated, then said, “So, um, the Green Flamestone?”

  Taris explained the full situation to Lort.

  Lort felt a rush of excitement. “So we could end up with two Flamestones in our possession. Or three, if you count the black one.”

  “The Black Flamestone is useless to us,” said Taris. “It is tainted by darkness and far too dangerous to be used by mortals. That one will be returned to the Divine Essence very soon. Still, two Flamestones would strike fear into Bellis Kingdom. It could potentially force King Verlamer to withdraw completely from Silverland. That would allow our expansion to proceed much more quickly.”

  “What can this Green Flamestone do?” asked Lort. “Where does it rank on the…well…the Flamestone power scale?” He cringed inwardly, thinking that statement had sounded terribly stupid.

  Taris chuckled. “The Flamestone power scale? I think it goes something like this: the Purple Flamestone, which is our wonderful Divine Essence and the Mind of the White Guardian, the Crimson Flamestone, which is the Blood, the White Flamestone and the Black Flamestone, which form the two halves of the Heart, the Golden Flamestone, which is the Will, and the Green Flamestone, which is the body. Those are the six parts of the White Guardian.”

  “So the Green Flamestone is dead last on the list,” said Trenton, with a wry smile. “Yet we base all our hopes on obtaining it.”

  “Yes,” said Taris, “but it is still an extremely powerful weapon—and much easier to use than the white one according to recorded history.”

  “What about that Golden Flamestone?” asked Lort. “If that is found, could the White Guardian live again? Could our god be…put back together? If each Flamestone is alive, couldn’t they become one being again?” He envisioned the White Guardian walking the land, and in his mind it was a pale giant—a god towering over all. A god who would once again bring peace and joy to Gallamerth.

  “No one knows where the Golden Flamestone is,” said Taris. “It may be lost forever in the sea, which would mean the White Guardian could never be reassembled. It would take all six Flamestones for our god to be whole again. Without the Will, our god still could not walk the land. And even if all six were found, it is doubtful the White Guardian could be made whole again. When it was shattered so long ago, it was gravely injured. The pieces will not necessarily merge together. The Birlote Wizards have concluded that our god can never heal.”

  “Yet we don’t truly know,” said Shennen. “Even the Divine Essence doesn’t know for certain. The topic has been debated for centuries and was the focus of a grand quest once that failed miserably. But right now reassembling the White Guardian is not on our agenda. It is so unlikely it is not even worth considering. We simply need the Flamestones to use as weapons against Bellis.”

  “Can the Flamestones be destroyed?” asked Lort. “If so, perhaps that is what happened to the golden one.”

  “Anything is possible,” said Taris. “But no one has ever managed to destroy or even damage a Flamestone. They seem to be indestructible. The Golden Flamestone is barely mentioned in recorded history. It was lost when the great rock fell from the heavens and shattered the White Guardian, and it has never been seen since—whereas all of the other ones have been lost and found time and again. This makes for a compelling case that it vanished beneath the sea.”

  “So aside from the white one,” said Lort, “only the green one remains for us to use. As you said, the black one cannot be wielded by mortals, and the crimson one cannot be removed from its bed of straw.”

  Taris nodded. “It seems we are limited to two Flamestones, but that is enough to perhaps overcome even the colossal might of Bellis.”

  “But what if the mission fails?” asked Trenton. “Suppose things go badly and they have to turn back. What then? I have raised this question repeatedly and it still has not been answered to my satisfaction.”

  “If we fail to obtain the Green Flamestone,” said Taris, “we have other options. Don’t forget that we still have the white one, and there is no telling how powerful Pr
ince Vannas could become. Also, we have a Dark Watchman amongst us for the first time in ages, and there could be more of them out there waiting to be discovered. We will simply have to keep searching.”

  “Lannon Sunshield is extraordinary,” said Trenton. “The duel he won against King Verlamer will never be forgotten. But how important is he truly to Dremlock Kingdom? Isn’t he just a single warrior? Compare him to the sprawling armies of Bellis and he doesn’t seem like much of a weapon.”

  “Not this discussion again,” said Shennen, groaning.

  “A Dark Watchman is indeed a mighty weapon,” said Taris. “He is a warrior unlike any other. To even have one Dark Watchman on our side is a great blessing. I would say that Lannon is, in his own way, just as important as any Flamestone. If, that is, he can manage to keep himself alive.”

  “But that’s the problem,” said Trenton. “Lannon is young and able to fall into snares. Also, he bears the great potential to be cursed by the Deep Shadow, like all the Dark Watchman of ages past—which means he could turn against us. Can we afford to have him as a foe, considering all the other dangers we face? Probably not. He could doom us. And it is not likely he will escape that curse.”

  “Does it matter?” said Shennen, rolling his eyes. “It’s not like we’re going to throw Lannon out because he might be a future threat to us.”

  “Lannon can escape the curse,” said Taris. “It doesn’t matter if the others faltered. Lannon doesn’t need to follow in their footsteps, as long as he remains strong and wise. He has compassion and nobility, and if he clings to both relentlessly, he will not fail. Yet even a single act of selfishness or cruelty could doom him.”

  “I have never spoken to Lannon,” said Lort. “But I admire him greatly. I believe he of all Dark Watchman will maintain his honor.”

  “Perhaps,” said Trenton, “but the odds are against it.”

  Shennen yawned. “Why do we discuss topics that have been talked to death? Yes, Lannon could fall to the Deep Shadow. We know that. We knew it before we recruited him. And so on and so forth.”

  Taris smiled. “You are still fairly new to the High Council, Shennen. You will come to understand that talking a topic to death is what we do. Especially with Trenton around, as he is never satisfied.”

  Trenton shrugged. “An issue tends to remain on the agenda until we figure out a solution. So yes, I will continue bringing up old topics.”

  “Can we move on now?” asked Shennen.

  Trenton sneered. “I take it you would rather be out and about assassinating someone? Why don’t you go and dispatch King Verlamer?”

  “I have considered it,” said Shennen, his expression serious.

  “Moving on, then,” said Taris, reaching for his tea. The sorcerer hesitated, seemingly lost in thought all of a sudden. “What were we talking about?” he asked, looking confused. It was no secret that the Lord Knight of Dremlock still suffered pain from his terrible injuries—from the scars on half of his face that had been inflicted by evil sorcery to a severe head injury that had damaged his brain—and occasionally he experienced brief mental lapses that caused him to forget things or lose focus. But overall, Taris remained the wisest figure at Dremlock and the one whom everyone looked to for answers. He had done an extraordinary job of overcoming wounds that had once nearly forced him into retirement, and his skills as a sorcerer had increased dramatically in spite of his struggles.

  “The Flamestones,” Shennen reminded him.

  “We’ve talked enough about the Flamestones,” said Trenton. “Let us talk about the Hand of Tharnin and what has become of it.”

  Taris fixed his gaze on Lort. “Recently, we sought to bring the Hand of Tharnin and the Black Flamestone to Dremlock. However, our Knights were ambushed three days ago and the Hand of Tharnin was stolen. The Black Flamestone was carried off by one of our Elder Hawks during the battle and brought here, and now it is locked safely in a very secure vault.”

  “Was it Bellis?” asked Lort, dreading the thought that King Verlamer was in possession of the Hand of Tharnin.

  “We believe it was Tenneth Bard,” said Taris. “The Black Knight is alive again in the flesh, and he was seeking the device. Now that he has possession of it, he will be even more dangerous—which is why I suspect he will try to take Ollanhar. Furlus will have his hands full against this foe.”

  “If you don’t mind me asking,” said Lort, “what does this all have to do with me? Why are you sharing this information?”

  “You are very adept at using a shield,” said Taris. “The best at Dremlock, in fact. You have mastered a style that hasn’t been used for two centuries. It is our opinion that we need more of what you have to offer. We need to create strong defenders of Ollanhar who can withstand Tenneth Bard and his Goblins. You will go there with a group of Brown Knights—twenty in all—and train them in how to properly use their shields as weapons. We have forged spiked shields for all of you. You are hereby promoted to the Council of Ollanhar.”

  Lort bowed, overwhelmed by the great honor that had just been bestowed on him. “Thank you Master Taris, Master Shennen, and Master…” His mind drew a blank for a moment in his excitement.

  “Master Trenton,” said Trenton, frowning.

  Lort bowed twice to the former Investigator. “I will do my best to serve, as always. But I have a question, if you don’t mind. How is fighting with a shield superior to fighting with sword or axe?”

  “It’s not necessarily superior,” said Shennen. “Just different. At one time, Brown Knights fought only with shields and were very successful. However, that was eventually changed because of Kuran Darkender—who wielded both sword and shield. It was decided by the High Council that the Brown Knights should return to their roots. But we believe that was a mistake, that fighting with a shield only—as you do, Lort—is the best way for Brown Knights to engage in battle. It is a style that Tenneth Bard won’t be familiar with, and it will give us an edge.”

  “We need an edge,” said Taris, “because Tenneth Bard has raised a massive army of mighty Goblins, and with the Hand of Tharnin to serve him, we can only guess at how powerful he has become.”

  “When do I leave?” asked Lort, eager to begin the mission.

  “Today,” said Taris. “Go and choose your twenty Brown Knights, then prepare your horses. You will ride out after lunch.”

  “I will defend Ollanhar to my last breath,” Lort promised. He couldn’t help but grin, thinking of how his career had just taken a huge leap forward. He was now on the Council of Ollanhar! He couldn’t believe his good fortune.

  The Green Knights exchanged grim glances, and Lort’s grin faltered. “Yet hopefully it won’t come to that,” he added. He lifted his cup with a trembling hand and finished off his tea, which had grown cold.

  Chapter 14:

  The Golden Truth

  “I will give you one more chance,” said the Lawkeeper, to the captives. “You will tell us everything you know about, well, everything—and do it quickly—or I will coerce the information from you by means of pain.”

  None of the Divine Knights spoke.

  The Lawkeeper was soaked from the storm, yet somehow his silver hair continued to maintain its spiked appearance. His devilish Birlote face was twisted with anger. “I could be warm and dry inside my tent, relaxing with a goblet of wine, but I have to stand here getting blasted by the rain like a fool waiting for you to speak. With each moment that passes, your suffering will be greater.”

  “What do you hope to learn?” asked Galvia. “You already know why we’re journeying through these mountains. You know what our goal is. You have been following us for that very reason.”

  “Don’t try to deceive me,” said the Lawkeeper. “You are on the Council of Ollanhar. I know there is useful information you can give me that would result in a quicker and more pleasant death for you.”

  “Death is death,” said Galvia. “The manner in which you kill me doesn’t matter, for eventually my pain will end. You h
ave nothing to barter with.”

  “The life of the boy, perhaps?” said the Lawkeeper. He drew a dagger and stepped close to Taith.

  Taith cringed and shrank back.

  “Don’t think I won’t do this,” said the Lawkeeper. “Even a child’s life can be sacrificed for the greater good of my kingdom. So are you willing to tell me what I wish to hear in exchange for his survival?”

  “No,” said Galvia, glowering up at him. “I will not barter for his life or the life of anyone else. I will obey the Sacred Laws no matter what, as commanded by the Divine Essence. Do what you must.”

  The Lawkeeper’s face turned crimson. “I’m so weary of you insane fanatics and your pathetic god. Even the life of an innocent boy won’t sway you from your wretched beliefs?” He sighed and rubbed his forehead. “This is why I hate dealing with Divine Knights.”

  “We have nothing to tell you,” said Garaloth.

  “Very well,” said the Lawkeeper. “You leave me no choice. I must introduce you to one of my favorite devices—The Golden Truth.”

  The Golden Truth was a fancy torture rack on wheels that was rolled into the tent. It was made of oak and polished brass, with symbols of the sun carved into the wood. The Lawkeeper gazed at it with pride.

  “This will make you talk,” he said. “It has never failed.”