Knights: Defenders of Ollanhar (Ollanhar Series Book 1)

by Keller, Robert E.

  Lannon darted in and took a swing at Jace’s neck. Somehow the sorcerer ducked and got behind Lannon, nearly catching the Dark Watchman in the head with a blow from his fist. The fist grazed Lannon’s hair.

  Lannon whirled around and stuck Jace in the forehead with the hilt of his sword, knocking him to the floor. Lannon moved in for the kill.

  Groaning, Jace tried to rise, but Lannon kicked him in the chest and knocked him down again. Lannon stood over the sorcerer, sword raised for a downward thrust that would pierce Jace’s heart

  Jace raised his arm to ward off the attack. “Enough, Lannon. I surrender. The Sacred Laws forbid you to kill me.”

  Lannon hesitated, not quite remembering the Sacred Laws. Was he supposed to spare Jace’s life?

  “My law is all that matters,” said Lord Hathannis. “You simply must do as I command, Lannon. Now pierce his heart.”

  While Lannon was hesitating, Jace snagged Lannon’s legs with his own and tripped him viciously. Lannon fell hard to the floor and struck his head.

  “Sorry, my friend,” Jace mumbled.

  “This is tiresome,” said the demon. “You’re making a fool of yourself, Lannon. Get up and kill him, or I will do it myself.”

  Lannon rose, blood dripping from his forehead, feeling dazed. His mind almost went black, but the power of the Eye sustained him.

  Jace rose to face him. “I don’t want to kill you, Lannon. You may be more important to the fate of this world than I am. However, I have a right to defend myself and if need be, I will take you down.”

  Lannon swung at Jace’s neck with a speed the sorcerer failed to match—but for some reason he didn’t finish the strike, the sword blade pausing an inch from the flesh. Lannon was puzzled by this.

  “You can’t do it,” said Jace. “You’re too lawful.”

  Lannon raised his blade again for another swing.

  Then the demon let out a loud hiss of warning. Vorden had somehow broken free of the sorcerous chains and was racing across the floor, spiked shield raised. Vorden’s yellow eyes smoldered with rage directed toward the demon.

  “Defend me, Lannon!” Lord Hathannis commanded.

  As Lannon turned to look, Jace lunged forward and swung his fist at Lannon’s skull. Lannon knocked the fist aside and again struck Jace in the forehead with his sword hilt, a brutal blow that knocked Jace instantly unconscious. The sorcerer toppled to the floor and lay motionless.

  Lord Hathannis laughed. “This should be an enjoyable duel to watch. I think I’ll grab a goblet of wine. I’m having too much fun tonight.”

  Lannon’s sword clanged against Vorden’s spiked shield, and Vorden shoved him back. The two warriors faced each other.

  “I warned you of this, Lannon,” said Vorden. “I warned you what could happen in this fortress, how you could lose yourself. Except I thought it would be me who turned evil here. You must find yourself!”

  In response, Lannon swung at Vorden’s legs, but his Dragon sword glanced off the plate armor, doing no damage.

  “You’re my best friend, Lannon,” said Vorden. “Maybe my only real friend in this world. I don’t want to kill you, but I won’t leave you like this. I won’t let you exist as a monster like I did. I’ll finish you before that happens.”

  “Then finish him, cursed warrior,” said Lord Hathannis. “Yes, I sense the power of the Deep Shadow in you. That’s how you were able to break free.”

  “I’m not the cursed one this time,” said Vorden. “Lannon is.”

  “You’re a child of the Deep Shadow,” said the demon. “Like me. You can never escape from the clutches of Tharnin, young man.”

  “Wrong!” snarled Vorden, but he seemed to falter.

  Lannon drove his sword into Vorden’s chest like a battering ram—but again the armor held and the mighty sword was turned aside.

  Vorden swung an armored forearm at Lannon’s head, but Lannon blocked with his own arm—flesh meeting metal. Lannon’s arm—which was shielded by the Eye—knocked Vorden’s aside.

  Then Lannon tore Vorden’s shield away from him and flung it aside. Vorden leapt in to get Lannon in a bear hug, but Lannon moved behind him and got an arm around Vorden’s neck, choking him.

  Vorden struggled to free himself, as Lannon sought to squeeze Vorden’s throat until his breath was gone. Lannon was surprised at how difficult it was to strangle Vorden. His neck seemed like iron.

  At last Vorden broke free, and he turned to face Lannon. “You’re fighting halfheartedly, like a weakling. I don’t possess the Hand of Tharnin anymore. What is holding you back?”

  Lannon pondered that. Was he actually trying his hardest?

  “Remember the Divine Essence, Lannon?” said Vorden. “Remember who you really serve? You should. You were blessed by our god and given a special gift. Don’t waste it now living as a puppet.”

  “I am your master now,” Lord Hathannis reminded Lannon. But a hint of uncertainty had crept into his voice.

  Lannon lunged at Vorden and kicked his legs out from under him. Vorden fell to the floor, and Lannon tried to smash him in the skull with his sword hilt—but Vorden blocked with his forearm.

  Lannon shoved the forearm aside.

  Vorden gazed up at him, sadness in his eyes. “I guess you have to make a choice, old friend.” He closed his eyes, waiting.

  Lannon hesitated.

  “Kill him!” came the demonic hiss.

  Lannon smashed Vorden in the head. But it was not a killing blow, rendering Vorden unconscious with a severe concussion. Again, Lannon had held back for some reason. He turned toward the demon.

  “I grow weary of this,” the demon said. “I sense life in him. I want your sword through his neck. Take his head and end his miserable life.”

  Lannon raised the sword, and he believed he would do as ordered. His doubt seemed to fade, and he prepared to cut off Vorden’s head.

  Then he heard a groan from behind him. It was Jace, who had risen to his feet, blood dripping down his long nose. “Don’t kill him, Lannon! In the name of Kuran Darkender, let your soul be free!”

  Kuran Darkender? Lannon pondered the name. It seemed to have been important to him at one time, but he wasn’t sure why.

  Lord Hathannis seized Jace’s throat in a clawed hand, lifting him into the air and shaking him. “Your death is long overdue,” the demon bellowed. “I remember you, sorcerer. You, who came here so boldly and raided my fortress. I will choke your head right off your neck, you wretched thief!”

  Lannon hesitated. Then at last he found himself, and a flood of memories returned. The Eye, backed by Lannon’s will, broke the spell.

  Lannon ran to the demon—who was focused entirely on killing Jace—with silent footsteps and shoved his sword into the pale back. The demon cried out in agony and dropped Jace. He twisted loose from the sword and turned to face Lannon, his face contorted with rage and hatred.

  Vorden rose from the floor, his forehead swollen and his yellow eyes unfocused. Then he seized his spiked shield and raced toward them.

  “Now you’re finished!” said Lannon, rage and disgust surging through him over what the demon had done. With Vorden at his side, the two warriors moved toward their foe. The demon tried to hide in his fog, but the Eye had adapted and Lannon could track his movements.

  Realizing Lannon could see him, Lord Hathannis stopped trying to conceal himself. He went after Vorden, who deflected a claw attack with his shield—the spikes drawing blood from the demon’s hand. Meanwhile, Lannon slashed a deep wound in the demon’s thigh.

  Then Vorden’s shield turned crimson with sorcery. It grew so hot that Lannon had to step away from it. Lord Hathannis sneered, undoubtedly thinking the smoldering weapon was no threat to him, and waited for Vorden’s attack. But Vorden simply stood there holding King Gormanol’s war shield, which had become so hot that even the stout Birlote steel had begun to droop.

  Then Lannon attacked the demon from the flank. Lord Hathannis turned and deflected Lannon’s swo
rd stroke, while Vorden slammed the glowing shield against the demon’s chest. The shield—heated by terrible fire given to Vorden by the Hand of Tharnin—melted deep into the demon’s flesh and became a blob of molten metal. Vorden released the shield and stepped back.

  The demon backed away, wailing in despair, trying to tear the glob of metal from his chest. Yet by then a huge hole had been burned into him. Lord Hathannis stumbled and fell, his blue eyes wide with shock. He continued to work at freeing himself from the blazing heat. The tyrant who had inflicted so much suffering on others would not die easily. He clung viciously to life.

  Before Lord Hathannis could revive, however, Lannon delivered the finishing stroke. Driven by the Eye, Lannon’s blade breached the demon’s formidable barrier of dark sorcery and passed right through the pale neck.

  It was over. The demon quickly burned to black ash.

  ***

  The demon was slain, but the spell that bound the others did not fade. The wisps of fog were still wrapped around them, leaving them unable to move or speak. They couldn’t even blink. And Prince Vannas was still lost in his trance. He hadn’t moved a muscle the whole time Lannon had been battling the demon, his gaze still fixed on the White Flamestone. Lannon wondered how he could stand there with his hands cupped before him without growing tired.

  “Can you free the others?” Lannon asked Vorden.

  “No,” Vorden replied. “My sorcery doesn’t work that way.”

  Lannon sighed. “We have three sorcerers here, and none of us can break a dead demon’s spell.”

  “I guess we stand guard and wait,” said Vorden. “I know some of those Ghouls are still creeping about.”

  “With their master slain,” said Jace, “I doubt they will attack.”

  Lannon sat at a table and worked on healing his ribs. He was tired of getting injured and dealing with severe pain, but he kept battling enemies of extreme power. He needed some easier foes for a change.

  The others sat across from him. Everyone was hungry, with the smell of spicy meat strong in the air—but they would not touch the food, knowing it could be contaminated by the Deep Shadow.

  “Sorry about your head wounds,” said Lannon, sheepishly.

  “Think nothing of it,” said Vorden. “You were not in control. I’m just disappointed that you defeated me.”

  “Yes, think nothing of it,” said Jace, sarcastically. “What’s a little skull bashing between friends now and then?”

  Lannon was flooded with guilt, for he believed he would have killed Vorden if Jace hadn’t distracted him for a moment. Lannon had been fully prepared to bring the blade down. Would he have stopped himself at the last moment? He would never know the answer to that, and it gnawed at him.

  “I know what you’re thinking, Lannon,” said Vorden, “because I feel it all the time. You wonder how you could have behaved like a monster. I would like to tell you that you’ll get over the guilt, but I never have—and I likely never will. You’re always going to regret this.”

  “I appreciate your honesty,” said Lannon, though that wasn’t entirely true. Part of him didn’t want to hear such things.

  “I won’t lie to you,” said Vorden. “What happened here is something you’re going to have to face again. You have it in you to succumb to the Deep Shadow like your predecessors did. If you didn’t, the demon could never have seized control of your mind.”

  Lannon knew Vorden spoke the truth. The strange battle lust that had been overwhelming him lately was surely a warning sign. The demon had snared him because he had been ripe for the snaring.

  “But I can help you resist,” said Vorden. “Because unlike you, I have to resist the Deep Shadow every day, and thus my wisdom has grown. Together, I think we can find a way to continue to serve the Divine Essence.”

  “Vorden speaks wise words,” said Jace, blowing pipe smoke in Lannon’s face and making him cough.

  “Could you breathe in another direction?” asked Lannon. He spoke absently, his mind still on the earlier battle. He envisioned his blade poised above Vorden, and he shuddered. He wondered how Vorden found the strength to live with the knowledge of his evil deeds. Somehow, Vorden was able to partially accept that his actions weren’t his fault—that he had been thoroughly controlled by the will of Tharnin. Could Lannon learn to do the same?

  “My apologies,” said Jace, turning his head to blow out more smoke. “Obviously not everyone shares my love of the pipe. But you’re still young. When you’ve lived as long as I have, you find yourself pleasantly distracted by the simple things in life.” He sniffed the air and groaned. “And right now, I’m being pleasantly distracted by the smell of roast pig. My goodness does that smell wonderful! Why does it have to be contaminated by the Deep Shadow? When Dallsa gets free, perhaps she could cleanse a piece of meat or two for me so I can eat.”

  Vorden shook his head in disbelief. “It’s a wonder you haven’t died from too much food, drink, or that foul leaf you smoke.”

  After several hours, the foggy chains began to dissipate. Aldreya was the first to break free, and she calmly approached them, leading Prince Vannas by the arm.

  “Welcome back, my dear,” said Jace.

  “If possible,” she said, “we must find our horses. We will need them if we are to continue our journey to Scalmfort Island.” She smiled at them. “By the way, excellent work in slaying the demon. I felt terribly helpless watching the fight, but I knew you would prevail. You three did something that Divine Knights have tried to do for centuries—slay what might have been Dremlock’s second most dangerous enemy to King Verlamer. There will be celebrating all over Silverland when news of this gets around.”

  “What about the prince?” asked Lannon.

  “A trance like this is not unheard of,” said Aldreya. “Sorcerers have been known to reach such deep states of meditation and focus that they forget to eat or drink for days and are unaware of what is happening around them. I suspect Prince Vannas is in such a state and his ability to use the White Flamestone will have improved when he finally comes out of it.”

  “Might as well sit down and wait,” said Lannon.

  Lothrin was the next one to break free—about an hour later—and he immediately ran to Prince Vannas and shook him. “Awaken, my cousin!” he cried, a look of despair on his face. “Don’t let the power consume you!”

  “The prince is fine,” said Aldreya. “This is for the better.”

  “But look at him,” said Lothrin, gazing at Vannas’ frozen face. “Does he look fine to you? It seems to me his mind is imprisoned by the gem. All this trouble that nearly destroyed us is because of this White Flamestone. It is turning my cousin into some…some creature that thinks it is a deity.”

  “Calm yourself,” said Aldreya. “Show some respect for the Divine Essence, for it was our god who chose Prince Vannas to wield the Flamestone. You talk as if our god is evil and selfish—out to destroy our cousin. The Flamestone is all that stands in the way of Bellis, and I am extremely grateful we have it back.”

  “Yet I am not,” said Lothrin. “I wish it was lost forever.”

  “Lothrin, that’s ridiculous,” said Lannon. “Without the White Flamestone, Bellis would rule our kingdom, and we might all be dead.”

  “You don’t know that,” said Lothrin. “Bellis never actually conquered Dremlock, remember? The fighting was still going on in the tunnels beneath. And it was you and your famous duel that ultimately drove them from the kingdom. The White Flamestone is not necessary and will lead us to our doom—as it almost did in this fortress. Sooner or later Prince Vannas will go too far and become a force of destruction that no one will be able to control. For some reason, you all fail to see this coming to pass. Even our god fails to see it.”

  “It’s rather arrogant of you, Lothrin,” said Aldreya, “to believe yourself wiser than the Divine Essence. I think your fears have become irrational and have overcome your good sense.”

  “Irrational?” said Lothrin, with a look o
f disgust. He pointed at Vannas. “No, this is irrational. He can’t even look away from the stone!”

  “This is sorcery business,” said Jace. “And you, Lothrin, are not a sorcerer. You’re a man of nature, who views things from a simple and practical perspective. But there is nothing simple or straightforward about Prince Vannas’ connection to the White Flamestone. Nothing at all. Even I cannot comprehend it.”

  “Listen to Jace,” said Aldreya. “His words are wisdom.”

  “All I know,” said Lothrin, “is that the Flamestone led my cousin into the lair of a foul demon. And the gem still consumes his mind. If we hadn’t come here and defeated the demon, what would have become of the prince? Surely the demon would have found a way to destroy him and claim the Flamestone. The Divine Essence is not protecting my cousin. In fact, just the opposite is true.”

  Aldreya’s face darkened. “Lothrin, you need to be wary of what you’re saying. Speaking out against the Divine Essence is not tolerated. That sort of talk can result in punishment.”

  Lothrin gazed at her defiantly. “I would rather lose my Knighthood than watch my cousin turn into some power-crazed monster. Remember, there is a good reason that Olzet Ka placed the Crimson Flamestone on a bed of straw and cast a spell over it that no one has been able to break. He knew it was too dangerous for mortal hands. And so is this White Flamestone.”

  “Too dangerous?” said Jace. “Yes, but only if an even greater danger isn’t present. After the defeat of the Barloak Demons, the threat of the Deep Shadow was severely diminished. The Crimson Flamestone was not needed. But even Olzet Ka knew that terrible threats could rise again, and so he left a possibility that someday the stone could be removed from the straw…by one of his descendants.”

  Lothrin reached up and touched the leaf-shaped birthmark on his cheek. “My future son,” he whispered. “Ethrin…”

  Jace nodded. “Do not shun the Flamestones, Lothrin, for your fate seems bound to them—and the fate of your future son.”

  “If I ever have a son,” said Lothrin, “I will not subject him to such a curse as the one that has been inflicted upon Prince Vannas.”