Lannon fell silent. The lies people believed about Dremlock and the Divine Essence were very disturbing to him, but he sensed it was such a widespread problem that he had no hope of correcting it.
"Why do I even bother?" Lannon mumbled to himself. He bowed his head, feeling gloomy and helpless in the face of such ignorance.
A heavy hand grabbed his shoulder. It was Henati. "Don't fret, young man. I'm sure you've done some good in life as a Knight."
"Thanks," said Lannon. He knew he should let the conversation end there, but he added, "Now I feel better about being murdered."
Henati shoved him away. "Sarcastic tongue. I was having a moment of sympathy for you, but you ended that!"
***
A few hours later, they came to a winding, raging river and went down it on rafts. It was a harrowing journey, as rocks threatened them at every turn. But the Malrogs were experts at navigating the churning waters with their long wooden poles, and the rafts featured iron rings that one could hold onto in order to avoid getting tossed into the current and swept away. The river itself was magnificent, with rocky cliffs, waterfalls, and lush hills all around it.
At last the river ride ended and they encountered a trail that led them up to a broad hilltop where an oak hall stood. Lannon's blindfold was removed. They passed several houses nestled amongst the trees. The yards here were clean, for this was a village where the Malrog Elders lived called Stone Heart. This was where all the important decisions were made. It was a beautiful forested hilltop adorned with intricate wooden buildings and statues--vastly different from the crumbling houses and junk-filled yards Lannon had observed in other areas. A warm, positive feeling hung in the air, a feeling of purpose, authority, and wisdom. This didn't seem like a hilltop where a brutal execution would take place.
Lannon was taken into a small, square building with dungeon cells below it. He was locked in one of the cells to await his trial. A single, silent guard was left to watch over him and two other prisoners. The other prisoners were walled off from Lannon, but he could glimpse them with the Eye. They were Malrogs (with one being half Olrog as well), and like the guard they were sullen and quiet.
Lannon found himself alone with his thoughts and bored, wondering when he should escape. He wanted to give his companions time to depart from the Oldermar Hills, but he had no idea how long that would take. He decided to wait right up until the moment of his planned execution before breaking free.
His trial was delayed for the night and most of the next day. During that time, Lannon sat in his cell feeling restless. His meals were bland but acceptable, consisting of tough, boiled meat and unseasoned vegetables, with stale bread. He was given plenty of water to drink.
At last, Lannon was taken into the oak hall--the Council Hall, as it was called--and was made to sit on a bench at the front of the building. Two guards with crossbows stood nearby, ready to shoot if he tried anything. Lannon glanced about, impressed. The hall featured colorful stained-glass windows through which daylight filtered in. Carvings of important Malrogs from ages past lined the walls, stern and stately figures holding books or weapons or scepters. Bookshelves positioned behind the Council's table at the head of the room held many thick tomes.
"Here you will be judged," Henati told Lannon. "Consider yourself lucky. Not all prisoners are brought here and not all receive a fair trial. Most just simply disappear in the forest, never to be seen again."
"They're murdered," said Lannon, "by your people."
Henati shrugged. "Here we make the laws of the Oldermar Hills, but we can't control everyone. This land is vast, and my people must fend for themselves. They deal out justice when it is necessary."
Lannon nodded. "So if they get drunk and kill someone over a petty transgression, what's done is done. No one is held accountable, right? This is a savage land of barbarians, and no fancy village or hall changes that fact."
"We're a kingdom, actually," said Henati. "But one without a king--much like Dremlock. Our Council of Elders presides over this kingdom. We're not barbarians, for we have law and order in these hills. Yes, the Malrogs love to drink, and many of us are slobs. But many Noracks are slobs too. What sort of home did you grow up in, young Knight? Was it perfect?"
Far from it, Lannon thought.
"But unlike you Noracks," Henati went on, when Lannon failed to answer, "we have nothing but love and support for each other. We treat each other's homes with respect, no matter how unsightly those homes might be."
"Wonderful," Lannon muttered. "You're noble, loving, thoughtful people. And you like to torture and kill outsiders. I get it."
Henati's eyes narrowed. He stroked his long white beard. "I admit I am puzzled by you. I haven't figured out your game...yet. There is something different about you--a confidence or arrogance that concerns me."
Lannon smirked. "Are you afraid I won't scream loud enough when the torture starts? Maybe you should double your efforts." He decided to make no effort to hide his anger and disgust over the situation. These Malrogs deserved to know what he was thinking, and he was determined to let them have it.
Henati's lips tightened. For a moment he stood in silence. Then he said, "What would you like for your last meal? Choose anything you want, and if we have the ingredients, we will prepare it for you."
Lannon was hungry, but he was determined not to give them any peace of mind over his execution. "I would rather starve."
"I see," said Henati. "In that case, I will choose the meal for you. I choose fried fish, potatoes, buttered bread, and vegetable soup--exactly what I would eat if I were in your shoes. And apple pie and ale to go with it."
It sounded great to Lannon, but he said nothing.
After Henati departed, the afternoon slipped into evening, the shadows deepening in the oak hall. The guards lit candles, and the sounds of celebration could be heard upon the hilltop. The Malrogs were in a festive mood in anticipation of Lannon's execution.
Lannon wondered if it was time to leave. It was just him and two guards. He could overpower them and slip off into the shadowy forest. But after thinking it over, he realized he had unfinished business with Henati. Lannon was compelled to prove to the ancient Dwarf that the execution was wrong--a seemingly impossible task, but Lannon embraced the challenge.
It was lonely in the oak hall. He was deep in the hills, surrounded by people who despised him. As Lannon sat in the dim, shadowy glow of the candles, his soul felt cold and forgotten. It was a taste of the horror an outsider experienced when facing execution in Malrog lands. How many people had sat on this very bench, knowing they would be dead within hours? In such a remote area, they had no hope of being rescued. There was nothing but the darkness and the hatred. But the true horror came from the attitude of the Malrogs--the way they believed so strongly in what they were doing. They seemed so confident and sure of themselves, with such vast potential for good. Their strength, pride, and determination could have been an inspiration to all the land. But it was tainted with ugliness and oppression.
Lannon felt truly alone, cut off from everything good. His kingdom was far away, his friends moving on without him. He thought of his parents, who were always eager to hear news of his situation. They seemed so distant--in another world somewhere that seemed outside his current reality.
But he was not alone, he reminded himself. The Divine Essence was with him. The power of the Eye was his to command. Yet that realization disturbed him all the more. He was gifted with power, but so many others before him had lacked such power. They had felt terrible loneliness, despair, and desperation--yet with no way out. It was as if life for these outsiders had no value. They had been ripped away from their families and everything that mattered to them, dragged into the darkness to die in misery and humiliation at the hands of those who believed they had righteous power over life and death. Their bones now lay in a nearby river.
Lannon realized he was glimpsing the past, as if the ghosts of those who had perished here were whispering to him. H
e could have withdrawn the Eye back inside himself, but he refused to shut them out. Lannon's anger toward his captors grew, along with his desire to change their thinking.
Henati finally returned and sat Lannon's meal on the bench. He presented Lannon with leg irons. "We will unbind your hands to permit you to eat. See, we are not barbarians. Not when we offer you our best food and drink. Here in this hall, you are treated with dignity, young Knight."
Lannon shook his head. "Do you have any idea how miserable you make your prisoners? Do you understand the despair they suffer?"
"Pain is part of life," said Henati. "It is natural for a prisoner to feel despair, even when treated humanely. To you it is an abomination, but to me it is simply nature at work. Your pain will be a lesson to those who gaze upon you--especially the younger Malrogs. Rumors will spread through the hills and into the towns beyond. Your misery serves a great purpose in strengthening us."
"You're amazingly ignorant," said Lannon. "If you haven't gained wisdom by now, I suppose there is no hope for you."
"Insults are pointless," said Henati. "I expect better from you. If you want to win this debate, you will have to use logic. You appear to be swept up in emotion right now, as one would expect considering your grim situation. Such a state of mind leads to a poor debate. Get control of yourself."
It was true. Lannon's emotions were on edge, and that wasn't the way of a Divine Knight. Aldreya would not approve. Yet Lannon had no more logic to call upon. He knew this execution was wrong, but he wasn't skilled enough at debating to clearly explain why. Lannon was a simple warrior who served his god and kingdom, and not some great thinker or philosopher who could change someone's way of life with words alone. Lannon needed his actions to do the talking.
"Obviously," said Henati, "you have lost the argument. You did your best, but it wasn't enough to convince me. Therefore, your execution will continue as planned. Nothing will stop it, so I suggest you prepare yourself in whatever way a Divine Knight prepares for such a thing."
Overcome with frustration, Lannon said, "You might find yourself in for a surprise. I'm not so easy to kill."
Henati smiled. "I've heard that one before. Having put forth a poor argument as to why you should be spared, you now resort to empty threats." But there was a hint of concern in Henati's gaze. He studied Lannon in the candlelight for a time, as if trying to determine what the young Knight was all about.
"I'm not eating the food," said Lannon. "So let's get on with this." Lannon glanced at the platter of food longingly, then looked away.
"Very well," said Henati, and the confidence had returned to his face. "I've seen it all before. You aren't the first Divine Knight who has faced execution here, and you won't be the last. I will warn you though that any attempt at trickery will cause your torment to be vastly increased."
"I wouldn't give you the satisfaction," said Lannon.
Henati's face darkened. He motioned to one of the guards. "He speaks too boldly. Break a few of his ribs to quiet him."
His face somber, the guard drove his meaty fist twice into Lannon's ribs--blows that would have shattered bone had not the Eye of Divinity shielded him. Lannon gazed sullenly at the guard.
The guard raised his eyebrows. "He's a tough one, Great Elder. Those punches should have turned his ribs into jelly."
Henati nodded. "He can certainly take a blow. That is a skill that all Divine Knights possess. But no mortal can withstand fire. Bring him to the Judgment Post. It is time to get this celebration underway."
"What about his trial?" asked the guard.
"There will be no trial," said Henati. "The other Elders were too busy to bother with one. And he doesn't deny his guilt."
"A trial would have been nonsense anyway," said Lannon. "You were going to murder me from the start. So why bother?"
"The people are fond of trials," said the guard, gazing at Lannon in surprise--as if the reason was so obvious that Lannon should have known it. "It gets them fired up for the celebration."
"Well, I wouldn't want to dampen their spirits," muttered Lannon.
"That sarcastic tongue shall soon be removed," said Henati.
***
Lannon was led to the village square, where three posts bearing iron rings were embedded in the earth. He was chained to one of them, as a crowd of dozens of onlookers stood leaning against wooden fences and gazing at him. Many of them were young Malrogs--boys and girls barely in their teens. They held lanterns and torches as they stood beneath the sprawling trees, and their faces were tense and eager in the glow--though a couple of them showed concern and disgust. Several guards stood near Lannon, their weapons held ready.
Three other Elders were there--ancient Dwarves with white beards like Henati. They sat in polished oak chairs, their faces impassive. Also on hand were several wealthy and influential Malrogs seated in chairs. A pair of young male servants waited on them, carrying trays of drinks and snacks.
Lannon wasn't the only captive scheduled to die this night. Chained to another post across from him was a strange looking, shirtless Dwarf who had been one of the prisoners in the dungeon. He was half Malrog and half Olrog--a rare and forbidden mixture of two races that despised each other. He was larger than any Dwarf that Lannon had ever seen, his arms excessively muscular and his shoulders almost absurdly wide. He was more misshapen than a typical Malrog and slightly taller--over five feet in height. He seemed more like a short Ogre than a tall Dwarf, with a face that displayed a wide, flat nose and black eyes. He was bald, with a blue tattoo on his head that depicted a Malrog mark of shame, and his black beard was chopped off short. He looked so immensely strong that Lannon was convinced he could have been a match for Furlus Goblincrusher.
A guard tore away Lannon's tunic, leaving him bare-chested like the oversized Dwarf. The condemned Dwarf gazed at him somberly.
"How's it going, friend?" asked Lannon. "What's your name?"
"My name is Doomar," came the deep and sullen reply. "And things aren't going very well, obviously. I don't deserve to be here. I did nothing wrong. I haven't even received the trial I was promised."
"Exactly my situation," said Lannon, who then gave his own name. "Well, close to it anyway. I accidentally knocked down a Malrog house."
"I didn't even do that," said Doomar. "All I did was come here to visit my family. I'm an outcast who dared to return to the hills. Now I must pay for it with my life. It is a terrible injustice."
"Terrible injustice?" said a guard, sneering. "I say good riddance to you, Doomar. You slew Malgori, you vile wretch. Snapped his neck with your bare hands. That's a cruel and wicked way to kill someone."
"I was merely defending myself," said Doomar. "What was I supposed to do? He tried to put me in irons. I will not be enslaved."
"You're a monster," said the guard. "You should have been killed at birth for your deformities and corrupt bloodline."
"Galbanak speaks true," said Henati. The ancient Elder looked sad. "It is a shame your mother hid you away. Babies born with defects must be sent to the earth. It is the natural way of things. You are a walking abomination, and I find that truly disheartening. You should have been dead long ago. Thankfully, your pain will end tonight in a swift manner in spite of your crimes, for you have suffered enough in life. You will receive a blade to the heart and sleep forever."
Henati turned toward Lannon. "You, on the other hand, have been terribly arrogant and insulting. You will receive a harsh punishment, young Knight--one that will set a firm example to others. It will begin with my guard branding our mark of shame into your chest."
"Why have your guard do it?" said Lannon, his voice filled with disgust. "Don't you have the courage and conviction to carry out the punishment yourself? Or are you too much of a coward?"
Henati slapped Lannon's face, and the crowd cheered. "I am the Supreme Elder of the Highland Clan, not any coward. I was going to let my guard do it because he would be more merciful, but have it your way."
Henati bowed t
o the three Elders. "Though we were unable to have a trial, I would like your agreement before we proceed. Do you acknowledge the guilt of these lawbreakers and deem their punishments acceptable?"
The Elders voiced their agreement.
"Then there is no doubt," said Henati. "We will proceed with these executions and send these criminals to their eternal rest."
"It's murder," said Lannon. "Call it what it is." Gazing at the crowd, he called out, "Isn't that what you people are here for--to witness pain and death? Aren't you ashamed of yourselves? You should be."
The crowd booed Lannon. A few of the onlookers laughed.
He fell silent, knowing it was pointless.
Several muscular Dwarves--skilled warriors and guardians of the hills--played drums as some of the women danced. A group of female dancers, who had black circles painted around their eyes, sneered at Lannon with contempt as they twirled about, pointing and laughing at him. The dancers moved in odd, jerky motions that grew faster as the pounding of the drums became more vigorous, and then all of sudden both drums and dancers would pause, frozen in their poses. Then it would all start up again a few moments later.
The hills echoed with celebration, as distant Malrogs took to playing their own drums and shouting. It was a strange and savage scene, everything about it unfamiliar to Lannon. He felt like he was in another world. Great harmony existed amongst the people of these woodlands. They all seemed in tune with each other in a way that Lannon could never hope to comprehend.
But Lannon's focus once again turned to Henati. "Your people are truly in a festive mood this night. Is it always like this when someone is scheduled to be murdered?"
"Always," said Henati, pride in his voice. "When justice comes to this hilltop, it is a great cause for celebration." He waved dismissively at Lannon. "Don't try to understand it. You come from a world where people betray and backstab each other every day, where hatred and jealously lead to warfare. Yet here in the Oldermar Hills we have peace and unity. Yet you dare to question our way of life--you who make war on others so your perverse kingdom can profit?"
Knights: Legends of Ollanhar Page 16