Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  Galvia’s irons were removed and she was bound to the torture rack. Slowly the Lawkeeper turned the crank, stretching her body. “You will feel immense pain in your joints, like nothing you have ever felt before.”

  As a Divine Knight of Dremlock, Galvia was well prepared for torture. Using the power of her mind, backed by her Knightly essence, she fortified her body against the torment, flooding her limbs with energy. The energy not only dulled the pain, but it also protected her against injury.

  Frowning, the Lawkeeper turned the crank even more, grunting from the effort, and still Galvia’s face did not change expression. She was capable of resisting for hours or even days if need be, her mind going into a deep state of meditation. Time and space became meaningless for her, and all she knew or understood was the fortification of her body against the force that was trying to stretch it. She became like stone—immobile, unyielding, and blessed with endless patience.

  “I think I’ll go have some wine,” said the Lawkeeper. “Meanwhile, you just enjoy the warm embrace of The Golden Truth. It will loosen your tongue.” He strode from the tent, leaving a soldier with a crossbow to guard the prisoners.

  “Are you okay, Galvia?” Wreld called out.

  “Don’t talk to her,” said Garaloth. “She will need all of her focus.”

  “Sorry,” Wreld mumbled.

  “So this is how Bellis treats its prisoners,” said Garaloth, to the soldier. “Putting a woman on a torture rack. Are you enjoying the sight?”

  The soldier—a lean man with a scarred, weathered face and eyes that reflected bitterness—sneered in response and spat on the ground. “Why should I care? You are enemies of King Verlamer and no punishment is too harsh for you. If I could put an arrow in you right now, I would.”

  “Are all warriors of Bellis so heartless?” asked Wreld. “You leave a boy in shackles to shiver in the mud? What kind of coward are you?”

  “Don’t waste your time,” said the soldier. “You won’t get any pity from me. I’ve killed women and children myself, and I don’t regret it in the least. Those who oppose my kingdom are not human and don’t deserve compassion. I hate the whole lot of you and will enjoy watching you die.”

  The Knights fell silent, knowing it was useless to try to reason with this warrior. He was jaded to the point where even a child’s life meant nothing to him and all he knew or understood was hatred for his foes.

  An hour passed, and then the Lawkeeper returned with a Thallite Giant who had to duck to fit under the tent roof. The giant seemed to fill up the tent, his massive muscles bulging beneath his crimson armor.

  “Are you ready to talk yet?” the Lawkeeper asked.

  Galvia didn’t respond, lost completely in her focus. She was aware of what was going on around her, but only in a vague, detached sense.

  “Amazing,” the Lawkeeper said, shaking his head. “Divine Knights are extraordinary warriors. No wonder your kingdom is still free when so many others have fallen. But let’s see how you do against a Thallite.”

  The Lawkeeper turned to the giant. “Use your strength freely, my friend, but don’t kill her. I only want her to suffer greatly.”

  Grinning, the giant seized the brass crank in his huge hand and slowly began to turn it. The others groaned, dreading what was about to happen.

  ***

  Lannon and the others followed a winding mountain path that led them across narrow ledges and steep slopes. They realized they could not have ridden their horses along this perilous route anyway. They found themselves in places where one slip would send them tumbling to their doom, with the wind and rain and lightning making things all the more deadly.

  At last they came to a point in the trail that was nearly impassable. The path ended at a sheer cliff, but resumed higher up on the mountainside across a narrow divide. Lothrin had a coil of rope and a grapple hook, and he tried to snag it on rocks on the upper path, but it kept slipping back down.

  “Unless we can figure out a way to fly,” said Jace, “we seem to be in trouble here. By the look of things, it appears the mountain rock shifted at some point, rendering this trail useless.” He pointed to where the trail climbed ever higher up the mountainside, revealed by the lightning. “I’m guessing this is the only way up to Wallrock from here, unless one has plenty of rope and other climbing gear, which we do not. We are ill equipped for this journey.”

  “Yet if the horses went to Wallrock,” said Aldreya, “there must be an easier route.”

  Jace nodded. “There is, but I don’t know where to find it. It has been too long since I last visited these peaks, and I don’t remember.”

  “I think I can make the jump,” said Lannon, gazing upward. “Give me your rope and hook, Lothrin.” The prospect of leaping up and over a deadly divide made Lannon’s stomach churn, but he had no intention of giving up. His focus was on rescuing Prince Vannas at all costs.

  “We’re all going to get struck by lightning,” said Dallsa, who was crouching by a boulder. “This is too dangerous. We must turn back.”

  “We have to continue on,” said Aldreya.

  Lannon took the rope coil and hesitated, flooding his body with the Eye of Divinity and focusing his mind. The others stood in silence, heads bowed, not wanting to disrupt his focus. He waited for the lightning to flash, and then he raced forward and leapt high into the air. It was a magnificent leap, but he failed miserably to reach his lofty target—instead using his sorcery to raise him up the rest of the way to the path. He lay on the ground exhausted for a moment, a colossal amount of energy expended to levitate himself.

  He fastened the hook to a thick black root (a dead root that looked to be from a Goblin-spawning Mother Tree) and then tossed the rope down to Lothrin. Without hesitation, the Ranger climbed up to the higher path. One by one the others climbed up, with Dallsa having the most trouble. The healer was not skilled at climbing, but Lannon seized her with his power and helped her along. By the time she reached the higher ground, Lannon was so exhausted he had to rest for several minutes before they could resume their journey. Using the Eye to move objects took a severe toll on him lately, as his power had become more focused around swordplay, strength, and quick, athletic movements (the typical style of a Dark Watchman).

  As they slowly worked their way along the narrow path, lightning struck perilously close to them, causing Lannon to shove the entire group backward on instinct—and nearly causing Dallsa to stumble off the ledge to her doom. Jace seized the healer in one huge hand before she could fall.

  Lannon groaned in weariness. “Couldn’t there be an easier route?”

  When they came to a shallow cave in the mountainside, Aldreya ordered them to halt. “We shall rest here and wait for the lightning to calm down. It’s simply too dangerous to continue on right now.”

  “So now we decide to wait,” said Dallsa, shaking her head in amusement. “What brought on that decision?”

  “That last lightning blast was a bit too close,” said Aldreya. “I’m certain I could feel the heat from it, and I’m surprised my hair isn’t sticking up.” She touched her curly silver hair that hung in wet tangles. Her youthful face had gone a bit pale. “I know every second counts, but if we get struck by lightning we won’t have any chance of rescuing Prince Vannas anyway.”

  “I have to agree,” said Jerret. “I thought we were finished right then and there. Death by lightning is a sad way for a warrior to go.”

  “I’ve been struck by lightning before,” said Jace, shrugging. “It tingles.”

  “Were you injured?” asked Aldreya.

  Jace didn’t answer, his grey eyes distant.

  “Were you injured?” she asked again, louder.

  “What?” he replied. “Oh, not really. Just burned somewhat, from head to toe. I lost an eye too, come to think of it.”

  “You lost an eye?” said Lannon.

  Jace nodded. “It popped out of my head and was hanging by a thread. I pushed it back in with a spoon, though. Good as new.”
The sorcerer nodded. “That’s right, my friends. If your eye ever pops out, a spoon really comes in handy. That’s why I always carry one with me—ever since that incident.” He felt around in his cloak pocket and took out a wooden spoon. He grinned. “The very spoon I once used to fix my eye. It also comes in handy for soup.”

  The others had no idea what to make of that story.

  Lannon felt restless, wondering how Galvia was faring. “I hope they don’t have any trouble back at camp,” he said. “Especially with Taith there. I wouldn’t want anything to happen to the boy.”

  “They will be fine,” said Jerret, with a dismissive wave. “Galvia will take care of him. Trust me, Lannon, our camp is well defended.”

  “Of course,” said Lannon, but he remained plagued by a gnawing feeling in his stomach. He wanted to hurry and rescue the prince so they could return to camp. Yet they were stuck in a cave until the lightning slacked off.

  ***

  “Surely you must be in terrible pain,” the Lawkeeper said to Galvia. “And trust me—it can get much worse. Do you have anything to say?”

  Galvia didn’t answer. She was aware that the pressure had increased considerably, but still her body held. The Thallite Giant gazed down at her and frowned, his hand pausing on the crank.

  “Leave her be, you coward!” Garaloth shouted.

  “Silence, or I will gag you,” the Lawkeeper said. He motioned to the giant. “Double your efforts. Whatever happens, happens.”

  The giant licked his lips, eager to cause damage. He turned the crank some more—until it seemed the chains might rip apart—and still Galvia’s body held. His eyes wide, the giant looked to the Lawkeeper.

  “She is like iron,” said the Thallite, in a booming voice that was louder than the storm. “This torture won’t work on her. If I apply greater pressure, she will likely be ripped apart. And so I await your orders.”

  “Last chance to talk,” the Lawkeeper said to Galvia.

  The others bowed their heads, their faces pale.

  Galvia heard his words, but she had no intention of responding. Her focus was extreme—beyond anything she had ever accomplished before. Her skill of Fire warmed her body, flooding her limbs with massive strength and endurance, as she prepared for the next phase of the torment.

  The Lawkeeper nodded. “Very well. Kill her.”

  “It will be my pleasure,” boomed the Thallite. With a grunt, he threw all of his strength into turning the crank, determined to tear the young Knight apart. But the crank snapped off in his hand.

  The giant held up the broken crank. “Whoops.”

  The Lawkeeper’s face contorted with rage. “So she has defeated The Golden Truth. That has never been done before. We’ll see how she fares with the gallows! Build me a platform at once. We will hang the three Knights.”

  Ethella entered the tent, the blue glow from her staff falling upon them. “We don’t have time for that. We can execute them with sword or bow.” Her eyes sparkled with evil. “Or I could just do it myself.”

  “No,” said the Lawkeeper. “I want them hung—a traditional execution. I don’t care about being in a hurry, and I don’t care about the storm. She escaped The Golden Truth, but she will not escape a stout rope!”

  It took them less than an hour to construct a platform, during which time the storm only grew worse. The platform stood out in the open, with three ropes hanging down—one for each Knight.

  Galvia, Wreld, and Garaloth were taken atop the platform, their wrists shackled behind their backs. A rope was placed around each neck.

  “This is the end for all of you,” said the Lawkeeper. “Stand there for a moment and contemplate that. Your precious god won’t save you. He leaves you to hang from the neck.” Lightning struck close by, and the Lawkeeper shrank back. He gazed warily at the sky.

  “Don’t kill them!” Taith begged.

  “Silence, boy,” said the Lawkeeper, his hand on Taith’s shoulder. “You will be better off without them. Their kingdom is doomed.”

  Garaloth turned to Galvia, his eyes full of despair. “How can this happen? The Divine Essence spoke through me—as if I have a great destiny as a Knight. Why would our god do that and then abandon me?”

  “I don’t know,” said Galvia, which was the truth.

  “It’s not over yet,” said Wreld, but his expression showed the doubt he was feeling. “Maybe Lannon and Prince Vannas will save us.”

  Galvia bowed her head and didn’t reply.

  “It can’t end this way,” said Garaloth. “It’s not fair! I’m not ready to die. I…I haven’t done anything yet. I haven’t made a name for myself. If I die now, I will be forgotten.”

  “You won’t be forgotten,” said Galvia. “The words the Divine Essence spoke to Lothrin will always be remembered—words that came from your lips, Garaloth.” It was the only comfort she had to offer. She too desperately wanted to live on. There was so much more she wanted to accomplish. She had done so well in her brief time at Dremlock and Ollanhar, rising quickly through the ranks to become a respected Knight and member of the Council. The thought of it ending on this night was nearly unbearable, but she saw no way out. Her parents would be devastated, and she hated the thought of them suffering over her death.

  “If this is the end,” said Wreld, “I want to say I have truly enjoyed serving with the two of you. You are both great Knights.”

  “As are you, Wreld,” said Galvia. “Yes, this could very well be the end for us. Try to find peace in your hearts. Take comfort in knowing we did all we could to serve our god and kingdom.”

  Wreld sighed. “Soon we will rest forever.”

  “But we can’t give up!” said Garaloth, panic in his eyes. “Lannon!” he called out. “Prince Vannas! Come and help us!”

  The soldier gagged him with a strip of cloth.

  “They won’t make it in time,” said Ethella, with a laugh. “In fact, they might never return at all—considering what they’re facing.”

  “It is time to get this over with,” said the Lawkeeper. “Galvia shall be first.” He signaled to one of his warriors who stood atop the platform. “Proceed with her execution.”

  The time for hesitation was over. Galvia was a Grey Dwarf, and seldom did one of her kind die without struggling to the last breath. Summoning her skill of Fire, she melted through her irons and then plunged her burning hands through the soldier’s chest, killing him instantly. She shoved his dead body from the platform, and with a cry of rage, she leapt straight toward the Lawkeeper.

  The Lawkeeper took a step back, his eyes wide in shock. But Ethella was there to meet Galvia—blue lightning from her staff freezing the Dwarf. Galvia fell to her knees in the mud, energy rippling over her body.

  “I’ve had enough!” the Lawkeeper bellowed. “Shoot them now!” He motioned to his soldiers, and they raised their crossbows.

  Galvia made peace with her soul and waited. She had done all she could, and there was simply nothing left.

  The bowstrings released their deadly bolts.

  Chapter 15:

  The Gauntlet of Axes

  It was a cloudy, cool morning when Faindan Stillsword reached Ollanhar Tower. His heart was heavy with gloom as he gazed up at the dark keep, for he believed this was the day he would lose his Knighthood. He had violated the Sacred Laws in severing and destroying his own hand, and he had disobeyed Aldreya’s command by going to Ollanhar instead of Dremlock.

  A Divine Knight must never bring serious harm to his body. To do so, even to relieve suffering, is a grave offense against the gift of life. Those were the words of the Divine Essence. Faindan pondered them, searching for a loophole, but there was none to be found. Clearly, he had cut off his hand strictly to relieve temporary suffering. It had served no other benefit. Faindan would have likely recovered fully had he simply endured the pain.

  He hesitated, wondering if he should head for the stable, get on his horse, and ride for Dremlock. He wasn’t sure why he had chosen to come here and p
ut himself at the mercy of Furlus Goblincrusher. Furlus was a sullen Grey Dwarf and it seemed unlikely he would take pity on Faindan.

  “What was I thinking?” Faindan whispered to himself. He gazed at the statues of the two Dark Watchmen that stood on either side of the door, and the gloom in his heart deepened. The weight of the ancient tower seemed to bear down on him, challenging his foolish reasoning. He turned to leave.

  But again a nagging voice in his mind told him to remain, and without giving it another thought, he strode up to the door—where a tall Red Knight was standing guard, a man Faindan didn’t recognize.

  “If he’s not too busy,” said Faindan, “I would like to meet with Furlus Goblincrusher. I…was sent by Aldreya Silverhawk.” That last statement wasn’t entirely true, and Faindan winced as he spoke.

  The Red Knight yelled out a few words, and the door was opened from the inside, where another Red Knight waited.

  Faindan entered the tower and found Furlus in the Entrance Chamber, seated at a table and studying a map of Gallamerth. The Tower Master glanced up briefly and then went back to examining the map.

  “Not much left that Bellis hasn’t taken,” Furlus grunted. “Now Gloneharn Kingdom has fallen. Just found that out today. They fought a bitter battle, and nearly all of them were killed. A nearby town was demolished, and everyone in it was executed. Bellis has been growing increasingly brutal.”

  “Terrible,” Faindan mumbled. “If I may sit down, I would like a moment of your time, Master Furlus. I know you are very busy…”

  Furlus didn’t answer for several moments. His beard got in the way of the map and he brushed it aside. “When I look at this map, as I do each day, I still can barely believe what I’m seeing—that one kingdom has expanded to such an astonishing degree. King Verlamer is a master strategist.”

  “May I sit?” Faindan asked again.

  Furlus glanced up. “Lost a hand, did you?”

  “That’s what I came here to talk about,” said Faindan. “Actually, I was ordered by Aldreya to go to Dremlock. I refused that order and came here.”

  Furlus raised his eyebrows. “I remember now. You left with the others during the Festival of Souls. How are they doing?”