Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  ***

  Lannon followed the trail through several more tunnels and chambers before encountering a locked iron door with a laughing Olrog face sculpted at the center of it. The door gave him immense trouble. He tried every technique he knew to get it open, but it wouldn’t budge. Because Prince Vannas’ trail passed beyond the door, Lannon had no choice but to keep trying.

  The laughing Dwarf seemed to mock Lannon, making him increasingly angry. Yet the more he struggled against the door, the more exhausted he became and the weaker his attempts were. The key to the lock was dark sorcery, and Lannon’s magic was just the opposite. At last he slumped down and rested for a while, letting his strength recuperate.

  Once rested, he wandered back along the tunnel, looking for anything that would assist him. In a storage room he found a large iron anvil. He carried it to the door and hesitated. Stealth and surprise were great assets, but he was about to make enough noise to wake the dead (if they weren’t already awake).

  Yet Lannon felt he had no other options. The door’s lock was simply too well-crafted by the Dwarves for him to manipulate. Nothing would work on it except dark sorcery or brute force.

  With a grunt, Lannon hurled the anvil against the door with all the power the Eye could lend him. The heavy piece of iron bounced off and Lannon had to leap over it to avoid a couple of shattered legs. It had left a tiny dent.

  Losing himself to frustration, Lannon lifted the anvil again and slammed it right into the laughing face—smashing it in. He heard a cracking noise at the edges of the door. Again and again he drove the iron object into the door, until at last he smashed it out of its frame and it fell to the stone floor with a deafening clatter. Lannon drew his sword and leaned against the wall, chest heaving.

  He rested for a while, then moved on. He soon entered a magnificent hallway with huge, rusty weapons lining the walls. These weapons seemed built for Thallite Giants or Ogres, but the Eye revealed they were actually for the Barloak Demons themselves. There were battle axes, broadswords, spears, maces, and hammers. There were also helms, shields, and breastplates. These were crude and simple weapons, not designed to look fancy but simply to kill and terrorize. They were appropriately ugly—especially now that the centuries had left them thoroughly rusted.

  Beyond that hall some wide steps led down to a large dining chamber full of chairs and oak tables, and it was here that Lannon found not only Prince Vannas, but his other companions as well. The prince stood in a corner, unshackled as far as Lannon could see. But there seemed to be something wrong with him. He held the White Flamestone in his cupped hands, and its pale glow filled the chamber. His gaze was locked onto the gem—his eyes blazing with intensity—and he was standing as still as a statue. He seemed frozen in some emotional moment.

  The others—with the exception of Jace, who was nowhere to be seen—stood on the opposite side of the room, their bodies held motionless by a pale mist twisted about them. They were as frozen as Prince Vannas.

  Cautiously, Lannon walked between the tables. The Dining Room was filled with fog. He sensed the demon was in here and concealed by the mist. The evil sorcery confused the Eye of Divinity, and the demon seemed everywhere.

  On some of the tables were the remains of a feast—including large animal bones, some with meat still clinging to them. On one table lay a large, half-eaten pig, its blackened flesh reeking of spices. There were wine goblets as well, and the wine within them looked like blood. The smell of incense and wax was strong in the air, as atop each table burned incense stalks in vases and tall, red candles. A huge stone fireplace held burning logs, yet the room still felt cold.

  Lannon went to Vannas first and shook him, but the prince would not respond. He was hopelessly lost in some trance, completely oblivious to his surroundings. Lannon tried to remove the White Flamestone from his hands—hoping it would awaken him—but he couldn’t budge it. The prince was engulfed in a thin shield of pale fire that Lannon was unable to breach. He was an immovable object that seemingly nothing could harm or affect in any way.

  Lannon tried to free the others, but the Eye was unable to pull apart their sorcerous chains. Lannon sensed that brute force wouldn’t work this time, and he paused to contemplate the situation.

  A noise reached his ears from behind and he whirled around. A wine goblet had tipped over, spilling crimson liquid. A bloated rat was creeping across the table in search of meat. It grabbed a bone with a bit of ragged flesh on it and fled.

  Nearby, the mist suddenly came to life—and a towering figure leapt toward Lannon, long white claws tearing at his face.

  Chapter 17:

  The Defenders of Ollanhar

  Three days had passed since the Gauntlet of Axes—three days of Faindan celebrating in the tavern and being praised by his fellow Knights. Now the mood had turned grim, and Faindan was summoned to a meeting in Ollanhar’s Courtyard on a bright, sunny afternoon.

  As Faindan stood looking about, he realized this could only mean one thing: bloodshed was imminent. Gathered in the clearing was an army of Divine Knights. Furlus was there with forty Red Knights, and Lort Greyshield and his twenty Brown Knights with their spiked shields. Also present were the Nine Axes, and Fadar Stonebow and eight elite archers.

  Furlus got right to the point. “The time has come to protect this tower,” he said, speaking loudly so everyone could hear. “With the Council of Ollanhar absent, we knew there was a good chance we would be attacked. Our enemies think we’re weak without the White Flamestone to protect us. They think they can wrest the tower from our grasp!” Furlus’ eyes blazed as he talked.

  The crowd watched him silence.

  “Even as I speak,” Furlus went on, “Tenneth Bard, our ancient enemy, is leading an army of Goblins and Blood Legion warriors in our direction. I am certain he is secretly in league with King Verlamer. This is an attempt to thwart Dremlock’s expansion, and they will show us no mercy.”

  Faindan glanced down at the stump where his hand used to be. So this was a fight to the death. He had survived the Gauntlet of Axes—had even emerged fully intact—but now he was faced with a different kind of gauntlet, one where crazed Goblins and bloodthirsty barbarians would swarm on him and his fellow Knights with the intent of killing them to the last fighter. Any survivors would likely be tortured and executed. And apparently these were all the Knights that Dremlock could spare.

  “And there is more grim news,” said Furlus. “Tenneth Bard wears the Hand of Tharnin—the gauntlet that caused us so much misery in the past. That means his strength will be greater than ever. Riding at his side is a powerful Legion Knight named Almdrax, who recently returned from the realm of Tharnin. They lead at least one-hundred fighters, including some kind of huge Centipede fitted with armor plating.”

  “I don’t understand,” said one of the Brown Knights. “How can we win against the Hand of Tharnin without the White Flamestone?”

  “Good question,” Furlus grunted. “I’ll get to that in a moment, as I reveal our battle plan. Fadar and his archers will shoot from the tower windows. Meanwhile, six Brown Knights will work our siege engine.” Furlus motioned toward the large crossbow on wheels. “With the Dragon Claw on our side, we should be able to take out the Centipede before it does too much damage. The Red Knights will hurl burning lances into our enemies’ ranks, and then we will close in.”

  “What about Tenneth Bard?” asked Faindan.

  “Leave him to me,” said Furlus, “and the Nine Axes. We will attempt to surround the Black Knight and overwhelm him. We will have to move quickly on horseback before he can use the Hand of Tharnin against us.”

  “Can I ride with you?” asked Faindan. “I am an honorary member of the Nine Axes, after all. I want to go against Tenneth Bard.” He spoke courageously, but inside he was afraid.

  “Let him ride with us, Furlus,” said Valedos Firehelm.

  Furlus nodded. “Very well. But it could be a suicide mission considering the foe we will be facing. Still want in?” />
  “Of course,” said Faindan, without hesitation.

  “That brings something to mind,” said Furlus. “I want to congratulate Faindan for making it through the Gauntlet of Axes. Few Noracks have ever matched that feat. I believe Valedos has something for you, Faindan.”

  Valedos stepped forward. “I offer you this Glaetherin shield. It is been modified for your missing hand. Give it a try.”

  The Dwarf handed Faindan a small round shield that gleamed in the sun. Faindan bowed and accepted the gift.

  “The shield is actually a gift from Furlus,” said Valedos, “but he felt I should be the one to present it to you. Guard it well.”

  Faindan found the shield to be a comfortable fit. It locked into place securely on his forearm. He couldn’t believe his good fortune—ever since losing his hand. How had it all come about? And why?

  The Knights raised banners and cheered, vowing to defend Ollanhar to the death. They took their battle positions and waited.

  An hour passed, and a lone cloud blocked out the sun, casting a shadow across the courtyard. Moments later a spy rode into the clearing and gave a final report: Tenneth Bard and his army had entered the oak grove. In moments they would reach the clearing and the bloodshed would begin.

  ***

  First came the Goblins, as usual, swarming into the clearing like angry bees. Faindan sat in the saddle with his heart pounding, waiting for the chaos to begin and wondering if death would find him on this day.

  In the midst of the Goblins was the Centipede, a crimson beast twice as large as a horse, its spiked armor gleaming in the sunlight as it scurried along. It moved with immense speed in spite of its bulk, its jaws glistening with deadly venom. The sections of bony plates of the Centipede’s body made clacking noises as it ran forward eagerly, driven to madness by dark sorcery and craving human flesh. Behind the slew of Goblins rode Tenneth Bard and Almdrax, along with twenty Blood Legion warriors.

  Faindan glanced at Furlus, waiting for the signal to proceed, but Furlus was busy shouting orders at his warriors.

  A volley of arrows from Fadar Stonebow and his archers flew from the tower windows, taking down several Goblins. Next came burning lances from the Red Knights, which slew several more Goblins.

  Meanwhile, the Brown Knights—with Furlus bellowing commands at them—took aim at the Centipede with the mighty crossbow and fired all ten spears. And somehow they missed, with two of the spears piercing the ground on either side of the scurrying monster.

  “Blast it all!” Furlus growled in dismay.

  Then the two armies met, and the Dragon Claw no longer had a clear shot and Furlus ordered it abandoned. Blazing swords hacked at drooling, leaping Goblins, and black smoke rose into the air from smoldering fur and flesh. The spiked shields of the Brown Knights tore vicious wounds in their foes.

  The Centipede bit an attacking Red Knight in two, its jaws expanding around the unlucky fellow and then crunching through his steel armor with ease. This caused shock and dismay amongst the other Knights.

  But the Centipede was only getting started. After crushing a Knight to death with its weight, it spit acid onto a group of Brown Knights, causing severe burns that took three of them out of the fight. Swords, axes, arrows, and spiked shields glanced off the Centipede’s armor and the hard shell of its body.

  Faindan couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The size and power of the Centipede was very intimidating. The beast almost seemed invincible as it twisted about searching for new victims. Faindan wondered how Tenneth Bard had conjured up this monster and was controlling it—and he suspected the Hand of Tharnin had something to do with it. The gauntlet was known for its ability to control the mighty beasts of Tharnin that otherwise were uncontrollable.

  Furlus gave the signal, and Faindan and the Nine Axes rode forward, cutting a path through their foes. Faindan steadied his nerves and summoned fire into his sword, even as a Jackal leapt toward him. He smashed the beast aside with his shield, and Valedos cut it down with his axe.

  Tenneth Bard saw their advance and rode forward eagerly to meet them on his Goblin steed, his black cloak billowing. His twin swords were sheathed, but he held up the Hand of Tharnin as he rode, the pair of blue stones in the gauntlet shining brightly with evil energy. As before, his face was concealed by shadow beneath his hood, but his aura was unmistakable. This was the Black Knight who had lived for centuries and was determined to see Dremlock Kingdom fall and the Deep Shadow spread throughout the world.

  Tenneth Bard pointed the gauntlet at Furlus and a fireball shot toward the Dwarf. Furlus batted it aside with his axe, but he was thrown off balance and fell from the saddle. An instant later several Goblins swarmed on him.

  Furlus rose, hacking at his foes with Dwarven fury, momentarily distracted. A mighty Wolf rose up on two legs beside him and he cut the beast in two. Foul Goblin blood dripped from his beard as he cleaved into his foes.

  One of the Nine Axes leapt from the saddle at Tenneth Bard, axe raised high in the air. It was a quick, agile leap that looked as if it would catch the Black Knight off guard. But Tenneth Bard caught him by the throat with the Hand of Tharnin and shook him viciously while crushing the life from him. Laughing, the Black Knight hurled the dead body aside.

  His face twisted with rage, Valedos Firehelm swung at Tenneth Bard’s neck, but Tenneth Bard deflected the axe with his gauntlet. The Black Knight drew one of his gleaming, curved swords and shoved it against Valedos’ chest. The sword failed to penetrate the Glaetherin armor, but the force of the thrust knocked Valedos off his horse—sending him head over heels from the saddle.

  Tenneth Bard turned and shot a fireball at another of the Nine Axes. It struck the Dwarf’s chest and burned right through his steel armor that was reinforced with veins of Glaetherin. The Glaetherin strands remained intact—but gaping holes were burned through the steel and the flesh was destroyed beneath. The Knight gazed down in shock at his smoking chest, and then he toppled dead from his horse.

  Tenneth Bard bellowed laughter.

  Almdrax slew a Brown Knight that tried to attack Tenneth Bard from behind. The huge Blood Legion warrior, who was protected by dark plate armor and a horned helm, drove his smoldering battle axe into the Brown Knight’s spiked shield—splitting it in two and then cleaving through armor, flesh, and bone. Almdrax’s eyes glowed yellow beneath his helm, his bearded face bearing a sadistic grin as he watched the dead Knight tumble to the ground.

  Horrified by what he was witnessing, Faindan tried to ride close to Tenneth Bard for an attack—but Goblins kept getting in his way.

  High up in a tower window, Fadar Stonebow took aim at the Centipede and waited. While the others continued to release arrows, the legendary archer sought a perfect shot. It was extremely difficult to wait and watch the carnage, but he held position like a statue, his bow bent to the maximum.

  His arrow burned golden with the Sacred Fire—a power that Tree Dwellers were typically forbidden by law to wield outside of Borenthia. Yet Fadar alone had been recently granted permission by the Birlotes to ignore that law (thanks to some lengthy negotiations involving Aldreya and Prince Vannas). It was an immense honor. He was supposed to use it only to defend Dremlock, but he reasoned that because Ollanhar was a distant part of the Divine Kingdom its use here was justified.

  And then Fadar saw his opportunity, as the Centipede’s jaws opened wide for a kill. He released the burning arrow—and watched it fly straight into the Centipede’s mouth. The golden fire burned ever hotter, and black smoke poured from the monster’s jaws. The Centipede went berserk, thrashing around and sending warriors leaping and tumbling to avoid it.

  In its fit of madness, the Centipede rolled onto its back to expose its more vulnerable underbelly, and the Divine Knights fell on it with their blazing weapons, piercing deep into its body. Soon it shuddered and went still.

  The Knights cheered.

  But Faindan Stillsword was only vaguely aware of the battle around him. All he knew was the real
threat—Tenneth Bard—was still seated arrogantly in the saddle, shooting fireballs at Divine Knights and doing immense damage. Meanwhile, Goblins and Legion warriors blocked anyone trying to get to him.

  Faindan swung his sword at a Jackal and missed—nearly falling from the saddle in the process. Valedos cut down the Jackal, but then a leaping Wolf nearly took Faindan from his perch. He managed to barely duck it as it flew over him, the Wolf’s claws raking the top of his head and drawing blood.

  A battle-scarred Legion Soldier—hooting strangely like an owl—tried to ram Faindan in the gut with a spear, but Faindan blocked with his shield and then kicked the spear upward, smashing the hooting warrior in the nose. Clutching his bleeding nose, the warrior stopped hooting and ran away with a horrified look on his face, as if he had suddenly lost the will to fight.

  Must have embarrassed him, Faindan thought. Weird.

  After being momentarily lost in a sea of chaos, Faindan found himself right next to Tenneth Bard. The Black Knight was looking in another direction, and Faindan had an easy opportunity to attack. He was about to swing when he realized his blade held no fire. He had let it falter in the confusion of battle.

  Focusing his mind, Faindan called fire into the sword—making it burn as hot as he possibly could. Once again he remembered the image of Kuran Darkender that had appeared to him in the moat, and then he heard cries around him from the Divine Knights: “Behold, the White Fire!”

  Faindan looked around, thinking Prince Vannas had returned with his Flamestone, but then he realized the White Fire was in his blade. He gazed at the pale flames that engulfed the weapon in surprise, and then he lashed out at Tenneth Bard just as the Black Knight turned in his direction.

  Tenneth Bard raised the Hand of Tharnin, and there was an explosion of white sparks as the blade connected with the gauntlet. Both Faindan and Tenneth Bard were flung from their horses—and both quickly leapt up from the ground.