Knights: Legends of Ollanhar

by Robert E. Keller

  The town appeared small at first glance--with only a single large inn, a stable, a forge, and a few shops that held high quality goods located along a dusty street. There were also several vegetable stands and tiny trading posts where one could purchase animal and Goblin hides. But it was actually a sprawling village where a lot of business took place behind closed doors in homes. The town had gone into hiding from Bellis and its ruthless taxes, the signs removed from the doors and windows, but it remained a popular business destination.

  Red Barrel was pleasant, with a few sprawling oaks nestled between the buildings and a friendly atmosphere. At least, that's how it appeared as the travelers rode along the street.

  But the Red Barrel Inn was not so friendly. Evening was approaching, and the inn was full of rugged farmers and trappers who distrusted outsiders, and Rangers who had no love for Divine Knights. The tavern was packed with drunk and rowdy folk looking for a fight. Most of them stood or sat at oak tables playing dice and card games, eating, chatting, making threats, arm wrestling, or just drinking themselves into a stupor. Dead Goblins were mounted on the walls or in corners, their dark, evil eyes gleaming in the light of lantern and fire.

  Aldreya, Taith, Vorden, Lothrin, and Prince Vannas went to shop for supplies, while the others--aside from Bekka--entered the inn. Bekka was asleep in a wagon and no one wanted to disturb her.

  Daledus' eyes lit up as he stepped inside, and he grinned. He sniffed the air, savoring the smell of booze, sweat, and pipe smoke. "Now this looks like heaven compared to those vile mountains."

  Lannon patted him on the back. "Don't get in any fights. We're here for friendly purposes, remember?"

  Daledus nodded, frowning. "Of course. I have no plans to fight. Just want to have some ale and relax." But his gaze wandered toward some angry men who seemed about to trade blows over a dice game.

  All eyes were upon the travelers as they walked to the bar. The place had quieted down a bit when they entered, but now the noise picked up again.

  As Lannon stood at the bar, a blonde woman who was plump and curvy confronted him. She stumbled, then kicked off her shoes in irritation. Her dress was stained with wine. She reeked of booze.

  "Honorable...Knights of Dremlock," she said, falling toward him. She grabbed the bar to steady herself and laughed. "You have the look."

  Lannon nodded. "Can I help you with something?"

  She threw her arms around his neck and planted a sloppy kiss on his cheek. "I love Divine Knights...very much." She then mumbled something unintelligible.

  Dallsa stepped close to her, glaring. "Lannon isn't interested."

  Lannon's face reddened a bit. He found himself irritated with Dallsa. He didn't need her to speak for him. He extracted himself from the lady's grasp. "Thank you, but I wish to be alone now." He turned away from her.

  The lady snorted. "Whatever. It's your loss, friend."

  Jerret put his arm around her. "You'll get nowhere with Lannon, my dear. I'll make for better company. Let's have a drink."

  She threw her head back and laughed. "Someone with a soul. Wonderful." Then she squeezed Jerret's arm muscles. "You must be the strongest Knight of all. What do they feed you at Bellis?"

  "Dremlock," Jerret corrected, his eyes narrowing.

  "That's what I said," she muttered. Then she clamped her hand over her mouth, and her eyes widened. "Wait, did I say...?"

  Then Jerret smiled. "No worries, my lady. I'm not a Divine Knight anymore, so say whatever you want. I couldn't care less."

  "Not a Knight?" she said, looking disappointed. "But how is that possible? You're the strongest one of the bunch." She pinched his arm again.

  "Not quite," said Daledus, nudging Jerret. "But close."

  Jerret sneered at Daledus. "I'd like a rematch on that test of strength. I think I had too much ale in me that night."

  "No rematch," said Daledus, grinning, "until the next Festival of Souls. Until then I remain the champion."

  Jerret started to turn away, but the lady seized his shoulder. "Knight, warrior, mercenary--what's the difference? Let's have some ale!"

  Jerret ordered drinks and then led her away to a table. He was soon engaged in merrymaking, and none of the men dared challenge the muscle-laden warrior. They didn't like or trust him, but they accepted him out of fear. After ordering two pints of ale for himself, Daledus joined him.

  Jace ordered three loaves of bread, two bowls of stew, a platter of fried fish and mashed potatoes, and a pitcher of ale. "That should take the edge off my hunger," he said to the wide-eyed, slender young woman of about fifteen who was taking his order. "Oh, and one more thing. Do you have any pudding?"

  She shook her head. She had curly blonde hair and wore a blue dress adorned with yellow flowers. "We have chocolate cake, though."

  "I'll take one," said Jace.

  "A piece of cake?" she said, writing it down.

  "No, a whole cake," Jace replied. "Who eats just one piece?"

  With a nod, she hurried off to the kitchen.

  Lannon moved apart from the others and stood at the bar, sipping a mug of milk. He ordered a bowl of stew, but didn't feel very hungry. He didn't especially like taverns, for their very existence seemed to violate the Sacred Laws, but they were a place to obtain food and drink and have some good conversations. At the moment, Lannon wanted no part of the latter, favoring a bit of solitude.

  Yet his isolation was interrupted by a rugged, bearded man with large fists and a pair of fur traps hanging from his belt. The man stepped close to Lannon, sizing him up. Lannon sighed, avoiding eye contact.

  The trapper moved closer. Dry leaves clung to his tunic and tangled black hair as if he had been sleeping in the woods. "You're with the Divine Knights, right? Saw your horses through the window. There's no mistaking the Greywinds. Don't take this the wrong way, but didn't Bellis crush you fools?"

  "No," said Lannon. "Our kingdom remains free."

  "If you're a Knight," said the trapper, "why are you so average in size? I thought Knights were supposed to be big." He leaned closer. "Like me."

  "Size isn't everything," said Lannon.

  "Yes, it is!" insisted the trapper. He made an odd growling sound in his throat. "I'm strong like a bear. You don't tame me." He thumped his chest. "Divine Knights are nothing in these parts. You should be afraid."

  "I'll keep that in mind," said Lannon. "You made your point, whatever it is. I think you've had too much to drink and you're not thinking clearly. Could you move along now, please? I really just want to be alone."

  "You're a rude wretch," the trapper growled. He lifted one of his traps. "I put a man's finger in here two nights ago. Cut it clean off."

  "I'm sure you're proud of that," said Lannon.

  "Very proud," said the trapper. "I enjoy teaching lessons."

  Lannon didn't respond. He focused on his milk.

  The trapper's eyes narrowed. "You're beyond Silverland now, little man. You're going to die out here, lost and forgotten." He jabbed his finger into Lannon's shoulder. "Divine Knights are lying tricksters who worship evil!"

  "I've heard enough out of you," said Lannon, irritation gripping him. "I suggest you go away before you get hurt."

  The trapper's eyes widened at that bold threat. Then he took a swing at Lannon's jaw. Lannon grabbed the fist and squeezed, and the trapper cried out in pain.

  Lannon released him. "Enough."

  The trapper glared at him, rubbing his fist.

  "That was a cowardly punch," Lannon said. "Is that how you win your fights? Attacking someone by surprise?"

  The trapper shrugged. "Usually works. And you deserved it for threatening me. I don't take kindly to threats from strangers."

  Lannon shook his head in disbelief.

  "You're stronger than you look," said the trapper, his bloodshot eyes narrowing. He squeezed Lannon's arm. "You actually do have some muscle under that cloak. You're hard as a rock."

  Lannon pushed him away. "Can I just finish my milk in pea
ce?"

  The trapper frowned. "Sure, why not? But you should work on that attitude if you want to fit in around here."

  "My attitude needs work?" said Lannon. "What about yours? You cut off a man's finger in one of your traps! Isn't that a poor attitude?"

  The trapper raised his hands. "Just telling you how it is, for your own good. If you want to ignore me, go right ahead. And that's the thanks I get for trying to set a man straight." He kicked a bar stool and walked away.

  Lannon gazed after him for a moment. Then he went back to sipping his milk, wondering if was somehow projecting a negative attitude to the locals. He prided himself on being polite and friendly. After pondering it for a moment, he concluded it had merely been a case of crossing paths with a drunken fool.

  Someone moved close to Lannon and plopped an ale mug down next to him. A female voice said, "The most powerful Knight of Dremlock, yet you're the only man in this entire tavern drinking milk."

  Lannon groaned inwardly. After the incident with the trapper, he didn't want company. Then he looked up--to find Saranna smiling at him. It had been a long time since he had crossed paths with the Ranger. She wore battered leather armor over her green tunic--armor that appeared to bear claw marks--and was armed with bow and dagger. Her long auburn hair was set in a single braid. She had been hardened by rugged living but still retained her beauty.

  Lannon returned her smile. "Good to see you again. I'm surprised to find you outside of Silverland."

  She didn't respond to that. Instead, they talked about old times for a while, and how Lannon and the other Knights were faring under the threat of Bellis. Eventually Jace and Dallsa came over to greet her. (Jerret and Daledus, however, were too distracted by merrymaking to bother--talking and laughing with the women and arm wrestling with the men.)

  Saranna was both saddened and angry to learn of Galvia's death, and she expressed her deep contempt for Bellis.

  "Bellis can rot," she muttered. "King Verlamer makes life hard for everyone. Anyone trying to run a legitimate business is harassed constantly, and the taxes are outrageous. Innocent people are imprisoned or executed as spies. Fathers torn away from their families in the dead of night--accused of conspiring against the king--and thrown in dungeons or made to work in horrid conditions. Yet there is nothing I can do about it. I'm just a lowly Ranger trying to earn my pay."

  "Not necessarily," said Dallsa. "I'm not much of a fighter, obviously, but I'm doing my part to thwart Bellis."

  Saranna studied her for a moment, then said, "A healer?"

  Dallsa nodded. "Still in training and not yet a Knight." She lowered her voice and added, "But Bellis has reason to fear me. If my mission succeeds, it could bring about the downfall of Verlamer's empire."

  Saranna looked skeptical. "How can Bellis ever fall? Their warriors and spies are everywhere, from sea to sea, and their resources are unlimited. It would take divine intervention to defeat them."

  "Yes," said Jace, his eyes shining. "That's exactly what it would take. The power of a god." He placed his huge hand on Lannon's shoulder. "A power that lies in certain burning stones, and in this man right here."

  "The Flamestones," said Saranna. "You already had one, last I knew."

  "We still do," said Jace. "But we need one more."

  With that, Jace returned to his meal.

  They fell silent for a time, as Saranna and Dallsa ordered some stew. They all stood at the bar, eating and barely talking for a while.

  "So why did you come here, Saranna?" asked Lannon, just to break the awkward silence.

  "To escape Bellis," she replied. "Silverland has become much too hostile toward Rangers. King Verlamer has no respect for my kind. He prefers to let his soldiers deal with Goblins and bandits. He thinks we demand too much pay." She laughed. "We barely scrape by, yet we demand too much pay. For someone who rules all of Gallamerth, he sure is greedy."

  Lannon nodded. "His greed knows no limits."

  Saranna shook her head in amusement. "There I go--bringing up the topic of Bellis again. Can't escape talking about it. It's very tiresome."

  "There is so much fear these days," said Dallsa. "Bellis is like the Deep Shadow itself, seeking to consume everything. You can't really escape Verlamer's presence, no matter where you go."

  "Actually, I'm doing well here," said Saranna. "Rarely is a soldier of Bellis seen in this unimportant region. And there is plenty of work."

  For a moment Saranna's gaze was distant, almost sad. "I have to admit that I do get tired of this lifestyle sometimes, though, but being a Ranger is all I know. Every day I get up and it's the same as the day before--someone needs a Goblin or two hunted down, or someone needs protection from bandits. I'm always out looking for work, when I'm not injured from combat. That's all I do, aside from a bit of merrymaking in the taverns."

  Lannon had a solution to her problem, but he wanted to approach it carefully. "Ever thought about traveling? Seeing new lands?"

  "That's why I'm here," she said.

  "I mean a bigger journey," said Lannon. "Across Gallamerth."

  Her eyes narrowed. "Get to the point, Lannon."

  He lowered his voice and said, "We're looking for stout warriors to accompany us on a dangerous mission that will take us out to sea. We might not return for a long time--if we ever do. It's definitely not for someone looking to settle down, but for someone with a heart for adventure."

  "We're seeking a Flamestone," said Dallsa. "If we obtain it, Bellis will have great reason to fear us. If we fail--or if we die out there--then Dremlock may fall. We are gambling everything on this quest."

  Saranna stood in silence for a time. Then she said, "I'm certainly not ready to settle down. In fact, I doubt I'll ever marry or raise children. It's just not my way. I do crave adventure, however. Count me in. I'm ready to leave this town. I'm so bored with it--you can't even imagine how I feel."

  "Are you certain?" asked Lannon. "I just want you to understand the risks. There is a good chance this mission could mean your death."

  Saranna shrugged. "Battling Goblins or bandits could get me killed, too. What's the difference? And if I ever do decide to settle down and raise a family, I want it to be in a free land. I refuse to surrender my offspring to that tyrant and his bloated kingdom. This looks to be worth the risk--a cause I can accept dying for. Yes, I just made a quick decision, but it's a firm one."

  Lannon nodded. He was surprised at how quickly she had agreed, with no discussion of a contract, but was also delighted. "Then we're glad to have you along. You're a great warrior and an exceptional Ranger."

  They clasped hands for a moment.

  "I'm getting paid, right?" Saranna asked, smiling.

  "Considering the risks," said Lannon, "you will be paid well. Aldreya will present you with a contract and an advance. You will also be given a cut of any treasure we happen to obtain--though I can't promise we'll find any."

  "Count me in!" she said, with greater enthusiasm. "I just have to finish up some business here, but I think I can leave tomorrow."

  "Tomorrow would be fine," said Lannon. "By the way, if you know of any other Rangers who might want to join us, feel free to invite them. But we're looking for the best fighters possible."

  Saranna thought it over for a moment, then said, "I know of two who would qualify. They are considered legends amongst the Rangers and would likely demand a high price. Even Bellis respects them, for they are the best."

  "That's exactly what we're looking for," said Lannon.

  "They're also arrogant," she added. "The authority of Dremlock--if it still has any authority these days--is meaningless to them."

  Lannon shrugged. "We desperately need great fighters, arrogant or not. So where can I find these two?"

  "I'll speak to them," said Saranna. "Just give me the contracts. I will either show up with them at my side tomorrow, or not."

  Lannon nodded. He couldn't begin to understand the mysterious ways of Rangers, so it was indeed best if Saranna handled the
recruiting.

  She finished her stew in silence and then left the tavern.

  ***

  As Saranna stepped out into the dusty street, she was apprehensive. She was about to leave behind the only life she knew, on a quest that was certain to gain her plenty of new enemies. She stood in contemplation for a time, wondering if she should abandon this madness and stay in Red Barrel where she had a chance to live in peace and do things her way.

  She savored the pleasant breeze, her gaze moving past the vegetable stands and sprawling oaks. A young girl was playing with a tame wolf, and a farmer was washing vegetables in a tub of water. A fisherman was selling poles and lures of many bright colors. There was not a soldier of Bellis to be seen.

  But those soldiers were everywhere else, punishing the innocent, causing endless misery. People were suffering all over Gallamerth.

  Yet Saranna wasn't a Knight, and it wasn't her duty to make war on King Verlamer. If she rode with Dremlock's servants, she was choosing to become an enemy of the king--which could come back to haunt her in many ways. While Verlamer might excuse her simply because she was hired help doing a job (paid mercenaries were seldom held accountable, thanks to ancient laws that were still respected), the king's behavior was hard to predict. It was unlikely, but he might take it personally and seek to have her arrested or executed.

  On the other hand, why should she expect others to fight for her freedom? She had skills that were useful to Dremlock. Could she simply leave this small band of Divine Knights to their fate? They were the only ones left to challenge Bellis' tyranny, and they needed her help.

  By choosing to go with them, Saranna was surrendering peace and relative comfort for extreme peril and hardship. She was certain of that. And while she might return richer if all went well, she might be forced to live like a fugitive--afraid even to walk the streets of a remote town like Red Barrel in daylight.

  But it was her choice alone.

  She was still a free woman and had to decide for herself. If she opted to remain in Red Barrel, life would go on. No one would think ill of her, and Lannon and his Knights would simply move on. After all, she wasn't a legend like the two Rangers she was about to meet with. She was a woman filled with doubts and regrets, weary of combat and struggle--someone who dreamt of an easier life. She wasn't the Ranger of years before who had first met Lannon in the Bloodlands. She was tired. So why had she agreed to a mission that favored those with bold and adventurous spirits? What had she been thinking?